Page 117 of The Moon's Fury

With a loud cry, she collapsed on his heaving chest. Zarian wrapped his arms around her as they both panted, tenderly stroking her back until their breathing settled.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

She didn’t want his tenderness, his gentle touch.

“I’m fine.” She stood quickly, cleaning herself up and adjusting her clothing. She spared him a glance. He was still on the ground, staring at her slack-jawed. “You said we needed to blow off steam. We did. I’ll drink thesilpharoontea at dinner. Let’s keep moving.”

By the time she reached Najoom and mounted, she’d expected Zarian to have followed her. But he was still on the ground where she left him. Slowly, he rose and brushed himself off, tugging his trousers back up. Dead leaves crunched under his boots as he stalked toward her. Without a word, he grasped Najoom’s reins and led them forward.

They didn’t stop for another break.

He hadn’t said a word since they’d resumed their journey. They rode in silence until a small stream cut through the path—the Mountains were full of them.

Zarian stopped Najoom and began digging in the pack. He tossed a bar of soap on the ground by her feet. “I’m going hunting.”

He stalked off into the woods, leaving her alone to tie up Najoom. As she watched him leave, a foreign feeling stirred in her chest. After oscillating between burning rage and cold numbness for days, the new emotion was welcome.

It was guilt.

With a sigh, she grabbed a change of clothes and washed up in the stream. Zarian still hadn’t returned by the time she finished, so she prepared the firepit while she waited. Once it was ready, she glanced around, ensuring she was still alone.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the stillness.

She called to her light.

Nothing answered.

With a sigh, she used a dagger and stone to light the fire. Soon, a small fire blazed before her.

Zarian eventually returned with a large hare for dinner. He sunk onto the ground across from her and began preparing it. When it was skinned and skewered over the fire, he headed toward the stream.

He hadn’t cast a single glance in her direction.

Her chest ached.

It was a sobering pain, one that constricted her heart like a vise until she couldn’t breathe. It settled low in her belly, twisting and clawing at her insides.

Memories dredged up, fresh and excruciating.

She’d lost her father, then her mother.

She had no idea where her sister was.

She’d lost her home and her powers.

The grief rose up again, bitter acid in her throat, and she wanted to numb her senses to escape the raw, burning pain it left in its wake. She had nothing to dull her senses except rage. As long as she fed the inferno inside, she didn’t have to nurse the festering wounds grief had inflicted.

But this time, she didn’t let her simmering anger boil over. Her eyes fixed on the tree line where Zarian had disappeared. He was hurting because of her. This kind, strong,goodman who had somehow found her worthy to love.

The crackling of the fire yanked her from her thoughts. With a start, she realized Zarian had left the rabbit on the skewer, expecting her to rotate it over the fire.

Shit.

She scrabbled over and turned the spit, wincing. One side of their dinner would be extra crispy. With a sigh, she folded her legs beneath her and religiously turned the skewer.

By the time Zarian returned, the rabbit was cooked through and portioned, ready to eat. He sat cross-legged across the fire, toweling off his damp hair.

“It might be slightly charred. Only slightly,” she said, reaching around the firepit and setting a plate before him.