Page 53 of Red Demon (Oria #1)

Farmhouse

T wilight lined the sky when we stepped out by a rocky outcrop, sloping down the path into a pine forest. Telesilla tried again to heal Faruhar and apply the same glamor she did to us, her face straining, only for Faruhar to stay as she was, unconscious.

I’d lowered Faruhar gently onto a bed of dried leaves, keeping vigil beside her, holding her hand.

Telesilla set up a khel to hide us, saluting before disappearing back toward the caverns with Soren.

Remembering the last time she woke, Asher hid her swords, then went foraging nearby. Still, she didn’t wake.

Faruhar murmured under her breath, little noises that did nothing to slow my pounding heart. I kept saying her name. Finally, she responded, a slow smile spreading across her face.

Her eyes fluttered. “Is that you?”

A jolt of relief shot through me at the sound of her voice. “Faruhar,” I said. “You’re safe.” I gripped her hand. “I’m Jesse. That’s—”

She blinked, her smile faltering as she took in our surroundings, stumbling back with wild eyes.

Panic flickered in my gut when I realized the worn leather journal was still with the rebels.

I also realized those glamors would render us strangers, even if she’d recognized me before.

She dove for the dagger on my belt. I sprang back.

“You smell like him. You’re not him. Where … is the one I … trust.” She dove for my dagger again.

“Faruhar, listen to my voice. Please, it’s me, Jesse.” I evaded her grab once more. “It’s Chout Attiq-ka , a disguise.”

Faruhar squinted, considering. “Speak again, whoever you are.” A low growl rumbled in her throat as she gestured at Asher, staying far back with his weapon drawn. “And who’s he?”

“That’s Asher, my brother. You can trust him too. Same Chout glamor thing going on, but his voice will sound the same.”

I nodded at Ash to speak from where he stood across the clearing. “Faruhar, it’s Asher, your friend,” he said, earning a bewildered look from both of us.

I smiled.

“Friend?” she echoed, her voice laced with confusion. “I don’t…” Her gaze drifted past Asher, searching for something—or someone. She scowled back at me. “I don’t like this magic. You were never this … ugly.”

My cheeks flushed, a fire that warmed my chest. “Did you just call me—not ugly?”

“Voids. Anyway.” Asher released a long-suffering breath, sheathing the Asri blade Telesilla gave him to replace his empire sword. He studied Faruhar, leaning back with arms crossed. Birds chirped.

“What, Asher?” she said.

“Just making sure you no longer want to cut me open like a melon.” He stood taller. “Can I hug you? You saved our lives back there, and I—I want to hug you.”

Faruhar froze, eyes still wide as she nodded. Asher enveloped her in a warm embrace, and I watched as her fists unclench. Slowly, she softened in his arms, and I wondered how long it had been since someone held her like that.

I didn’t even wait for Asher to pull away before I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around them both.

She turned into me. Any air between Faruhar and my body crackled with a tension that wasn’t entirely unwelcome, demanding I hold her tighter.

When Asher pulled away, she leaned into the warmth of me, holding on just as tight, taking a deep breath at my neck.

In that moment, the forest sounds faded, replaced by the frantic drumming of my heart.

I could not let go.

“Jesse,” she breathed. I froze at the sound of my name in her mouth, pulling my hips away just enough to not let this get awkward, because it was about to get awkward.

“I want my swords back,” she said.

An abandoned farmhouse stood not far away, one with rough but sturdy walls.

With a little firewood and a wipe of a stone table, we had a sparse home for the night.

We changed into new clothes provided by Telesilla, and huddled around a true meal: roasted beech nuts, flatbread, a mushroom stew and asimina for dessert.

We knew we needed the rest, and I let the heat of the fire warm us to the bone as Asher and I caught her up on what she’d missed.

Her mind kept flashes without context: our first fight, threatening Asher. Mahakal. She had most of the pieces in her mind, if I was patient enough to help her reassemble. When I sat beside her at the end of her questioning, a spark of something deeper than recognition ignited in her eyes.

I had to look away. The fire in the charcoaled hearth didn’t shine as bright.

Although the farmhouse was devoid of most furniture, the Asri stone construction held strong, offering us each a separate room. Faruhar surrendered her weapons; we hid them under crates in a dusty pantry before heading for bed.

Alone in my makeshift bed of straw and leaves, sleep eluded me, my mind drifting to the stolen glances from Faruhar.

I reminded myself there was no name I could place on that emotion, not if she couldn’t remember her name and mine.

She remembers those she trusts. I needed to be that friend she trusted.

Still, I was worried about her waking up in a strange room with no one and nothing familiar to orient her except for a few notes she promised to scrawl on the wall with charcoal.

Unable to shake my unease, I rose and crept down the creaking hallway.

Reaching Faruhar’s door, I found it ajar, a beam of moonlight casting through the shattered window.

And there she stood, a silhouette scribbling away by the window sill with dark-stained fingers.

I don’t know why that image stole my breath.

“Faruhar?” I creaked the door open.

She turned to me, relief flooding her features. She looked down, fiddling with the hem of her loose flaxen shirt. “Jesse. I don’t know if this is enough—” She gestured to the notes she left on the walls, all of them, and then all over the floor in her scrawl of handwriting.

I bit my lip. “That’s gonna be a lot to clean in the morning. We don’t want to leave clues behind.”

“Right. Sorry.” She clenched her eyes tight. “Do you mind staying? Just in case? I know your new face now, so I should trust it even without the reminders.”

Her words, so quiet, softened what little resistance I had. “No problem.” She sat on the wooden bed frame topped with straw. I sat down on the window seat.

“When we’re near a town, can you buy me a new journal and fill it in? I don’t like taking risks like this, not when—” The vulnerability in her voice was a siren call. Within a single breath, I stepped forward, the space between us closing.

“I’m not afraid of you.” I reached out a hand, hesitant at first, then with a growing sense of resolve. My fingers brushed hers, and her hand trembled for a moment before relaxing in mine, her touch electric against my skin. “You’re safe with me.”

It took a moment for her to breathe in, to accept that.

She lay down in the straw bed, not letting go of my hand. I settled beside her, watching her every breath.

The firelight from the hearth mirrored the same intensity I felt in my own body. I felt an overwhelming urge to pull her closer, to bridge the gap, but I knew better. I was the friend she trusted.

In the morning, she tightened her hand in mine. I’m not sure I ever let go. Her smile held its place when she opened her brilliant eyes for me. “I still like your real face better.”

I swallowed, forcing myself not to make any sudden moves, just in case. “You’re safe, Faruhar, I’m Jesse—”

“I know.”

I shared the relief that flooded her face. It overcame me too, becoming a bittersweet pang in my chest. “You do?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed my hand again. “You stayed in my dreams, even the unnerving ones. It helped that you were so close.” A haunted look crossed her face, and my free hand went up to brush that fear away.

A rap at the bedroom door. Asher cleared his throat.

“Come in,” I said.

Asher froze in the doorway. Uncertain, he looked between us as we sat up in bed. “You good, Faruhar?”

She squinted at her notes in charcoal on the nightstand. “Asher? Yeah. We’re going to Uyr Elderven. You talked Asri rebels into sparing my life, and I’m very impressed by that.”

He blinked, then his brilliant smile bloomed. “Thanks. You two up for a little training before we get on the road? We’ll need to stay sharp.”

Training at dawn, a bit of normalcy. And, well, I needed to get some energy out just then. “Sure thing, Brother.”

The clearing by the house bathed itself in the golden light of sunrise. Frost-laden grass crackled underfoot as we circled each other. Faruhar, with her two swords held in a practiced grip, looked menacing, flawless. Ash, in his Chout-disguised face, looked kinda weird.

“Fight to disarm?” she said.

“No injuries sounds good,” I said.

We had no training blades. Ash and I wore our Chaeten leather, freshly washed and dried by the fire. Faruhar wore the best armor one might salvage from stripping Noé’s dead.

I charged in a blur, disarming Ash in under a minute.

“Get back in here, Ash,” Faruhar said, although she disarmed him seconds after he did. After a while, he stopped trying, and I focused on Far.

I surprised myself, rising to her challenge.

I found I could match her speed, my reflexes honing to her every feint and parry.

But voids, she was so hard to read. It took all my concentration to fend off two limbs that seemed to attack with independent thought, all lightning-fast strikes and agile dodges.

I met her like a storm cloud: powerful blows she needed her full rally to deflect.

The clash of steel echoed through the clearing, punctuated by the hiss of one of Faruhar’s blades slicing my face.

The scent of pine mingled with the metallic tang of blood, but the nick wasn’t deep enough to worry about.

“Sorry,” she said.

“You will be.” I winked, holding my face. “The not ugly face is under here too.”

She rolled her eyes at me.