Page 19

19

A Curl of Ash

W e leave first thing in the morning.

The monks advise us to wait until after the sun has fully risen, and they give us small portable wards—Elium calls them charms—to place around our camp at night, with strict instructions to have them in place before nightfall. A large part of me worries my magic will interfere with them, but maybe it won’t—my magic used to do such things, but it’s not just my magic anymore, and in this instance, that’s a blessing.

As we fly, I test the bond between Daenn and me, not prodding at it, simply being aware of it, noticing the subtle shifts in Daenn’s mood at any given time. Mostly, there’s not much to feel. I think I can only sense the strongest of emotions from him, and as we fly, he’s focused on the task at hand: directing Storm, watching the jungle below for anything different from the ominous green swath that covers the land as far as I can see.

Occasionally, we’ll catch the sun reflecting off something below, blue or green threads of water, but otherwise there’s nothing to see. As we’ve left the temple behind, green has consumed the ground in every direction, and the canopy is too thick to make out individual trees .

When we land for lunch though, Daenn seems slower, tired. We’ve found a small stream, and I immediately kneel by the water where it’s flowing the swiftest over a tumble of rocks and take a long drink. It was cool up in the air, but descending into the jungle itself is hot and muggy. I’m already sweating.

I lift my hair off my neck and splash water over my skin. It cools me for all of a second before it just adds to the sticky wet feeling. I sigh and rise, turning back to Daenn. He stands beyond Storm, studying something on the ground. Concern flickers through our link. It has me hurrying to see what he’s found.

Strange slashing burn marks are scattered around on the ground and on the trees, like someone took a fire-imbued sword and hacked at everything in sight.

“What is this from?”

Daenn only shakes his head.

I shift warily. “Should we get back up in the air? Head somewhere else for lunch?”

Wry amusement ghosts through him. “Somewhere else will still be in the jungle,” he points out. “These are old.” He presses his fingers to one of them. He’s not wearing his gloves, I notice, and something about that small detail pleases me. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to be quite so guarded while wearing the bracer. “Whatever made them moved on a while ago.” His gaze rises and roves over the jungle.

I look too. It’s dense. I can’t see much farther than the few trees surrounding this little clearing by the stream. Everything is green. Dark green, light green, a multitude of shades, but all green. Even the tree trunks are coated in green moss.

The color has never felt ominous before. But now, I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched. It’s been running up and down my spine since we reached the jungle, a new permanent companion I could happily do without.

“We’ll stay here,” Daenn says after a moment of perusal, “but let’s eat quickly.”

Storm slinks into the jungle to find himself some lunch, and I hurry to unpack mine and Daenn’s. The monks were kind enough to send us with provisions that should last us until we reach the second temple. This meal is some sort of softened leaf wrapped around a mix of rice and spiced vegetables. The entire thing is tart, as if it was fermented after being wrapped together. It’s strange but delicious.

I’m full after three of the small wraps, but Daenn’s reaching for another by the time Storm returns and flops onto the earth nearby.

I wipe my hands and study Daenn. The bracer’s copper color, even dulled, stands out against his armor.

“How are you feeling?” I ask lightly, doing my best to hide the worry threaded through every word.

He tenses. Not so much in body language, but tension and guilt radiate through him to me over the bond as he speaks. “Fine.”

The single word, the emotions behind it, punches the air from my lungs. He just… He lied to me.

I’m certain of it; it’s the only thing that explains the guilt I’m sensing. Even if he’s hiding it, casually finishing off another wrap in one bite.

Daenn has never lied to me before. Not before when he was my Daenn, and not even as the king he is now, since my return. Maybe he withheld information, but outright lying?

No.

It worries me that he feels the need to hide the truth from me about how he’s faring. But even more than worry, I’m hurt. It’s a sharp ache starting in my chest and burning out from there, like a flame devouring a leaf into a curl of ash.

Daenn looks up suddenly, his brow furrowing as he meets my gaze.

I’ve been caught staring. Instead of looking away, I stand. I close the distance between us, stopping so close that the fabric of my fitted trousers brushes his knees. He has to tilt up to meet my gaze. I can see the flecks in his green eyes.

“Try again.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Try what again?” He matches my volume, but his voice comes out in a rumble that I can practically feel in my bones.

“Try lying to me again.” I lean closer, stepping forward between his knees to maintain my balance. “Better yet, you could tell me the truth.”

There’s barely any distance between us. His legs frame me, and his hands rest on his knees, his thumb touching the side of my leg from my stepping in so near to him.

“Why do you think I’m lying?” He tilts his head as he speaks, and a strand of hair falls over his forehead. I have a sudden urge to brush it back into place.

I curl my hand into a fist instead. The man might bowl over the back of his log to avoid me if I try to touch him. I don’t need him breaking his neck, especially in such an undignified way.

“I think the better question is why you think you can lie to me. I know you, Daenn Henriken. Even without this bond between us, I would know.”

He goes still, and I realize my error.

“You can feel my emotions.” It’s not a question.

“And you can feel mine.” I can’t be certain, but he’s not surprised by my slip, and it’s the only reason that explains that. I knew it was a possibility, but I’d hoped it was one-sided .

His jaw ripples, and I know it’s true. The confirmation has my mind flashing back, rifling through my memories to think of what exactly he’s felt from me.

“How long have you known?” My voice is breathless, a step away from panic. “I only realized yesterday, when I almost—” I swallow the word. I can’t say it out loud. “After you caught me.”

What has he seen? What does he know now that I’d rather he didn’t?

His hand closes over mine, and it shocks me out of my spiral, until I realize—he put his gloves back on at some point. He uncurls my fist, one finger at a time. I can’t tear my gaze away from it. How his hand engulfs mine; how gentle he is.

I almost pull my hand away when I realize why he’s doing this. He can sense my panic. He’s distracting me or soothing me from it. I’m not sure which.

I hate that it’s working. My heart rate has slowed. My breathing has evened. Against all reason, his touch has pulled me from my panic.

“I’ve known…” He hesitates. He’s anxious, an echoing emotion that makes me feel hollow. “…since the day after the wedding.”

I suck in a gasp and rip my hand from his. It’s only been a few days longer than I have, but it feels so long. He’s known basically the entire time we’ve been bonded and never said a thing.

But I wasn’t intending to tell him either. I can’t really blame him for not wanting to admit it.

Knowing he can sense my every secret emotion makes me feel exposed, vulnerable .

“I’m sorry. I should have said something. I just didn’t want you to feel like… that.” His hand flickers to gesture to me; he must mean the vulnerability I’m drowning in right now.

It’s surprisingly thoughtful of him. Far more reminiscent of my Daenn than King Daenn.

But it also reminds me of where this conversation started. I take a step back and cross my arms. The space is good. It helps me clear my head, to breathe in the wet, earthy scent of the jungle around us instead of him. To not be so close he could scoop me into his arms with no effort.

“I can appreciate not wanting to admit to knowing about the bond, whatever reasons for it. But lying, Daenn? We’re not skipping past that like it didn’t happen.”

He stands, and suddenly he’s in my space again, even closer than before. My heart kicks into another gallop, but it’s not panic causing it. It’s him. His proximity. His intense gaze, wholly focused on me, tracing over my face. His scent, woodsy and fresh, like our mountain home, crowding out the jungle odors. The way his hair frames his face, loose and ruffled.

Everything about him is making my head spin, my heart pound.

“Do you want me to tell you I’m sorry?” His voice is low, sending a sweep of tingles through my limbs that makes me wobbly. “I’m not. What good does it do you to know that the bracer is eating away at the magic, but it’s also eating away at me? I’m the only thing standing between you and whatever lurks in this jungle. You don’t need to worry that I’ll fall and you’ll be left alone.”

“I think I deserve to know if that’s a danger.”

“It’s not.” His voice is a growl. A promise. “I won’t leave you unprotected, Emana. I’ll stay cursed with this magic for my entire life before I’ll risk that. ”

He means every word of that. Fierce sincerity burns through him to me, bright and hot. I want to wrap it around me like a blanket.

I want him to wrap around me, enclose me in his arms and bury me against his chest.

The thought comes out of nowhere, shocking me to my senses.

It’s madness. This man is not my Daenn. I know that.

But it’s getting harder and harder to remember it, to remember why I hate him.

His gaze darkens. Hope curls around my heart. He reaches for me—

And Storm releases a battle shriek as a monster dives out of the jungle toward us.