Page 23

CHAPTER 22

I HID AGAIN BEHIND the tree, back to the bark. The shadows under the jungle canopy seemed to grow darker, enveloping me in its ominous blanket. Zichri sighed. Then water sloshed, and crunching pebbles followed. I held my breath. The sound of footsteps waned and disappeared in the distance. Zichri had gone in the direction of our camp.

“Miss Cypress!” Laude called. Strain marked her voice. “Miss Cypress!”

The men would suspect I heard their private conversation if they found me here. I needed to move somewhere else. Traveling deeper into the forest, I hiked with no direction in mind. A pitter-patter of droplets played music on the treetops. Sprinkles of water dripped onto my nose. Still, I plowed ahead. Laude’s voice sounded farther away, but I didn’t care.

Zichri is using me, and Milo resents helping us. These thoughts drove me forward. Hadn’t I hoped to gather information? What was I thinking—trusting them? And why did it hurt so much to find out the truth? I picked up the pace, almost running across the muddied ground. Droplets soaked into my brown tunic.

What were Zichri’s brothers doing? Did Zichri have plans with them? An ache crawled up my neck, hitting the base of my head. My legs slowed their pace, and I stopped to rest, drinking in the earthy fragrance. I had to find out more. I had to face him as if nothing had transpired. Like he had no secrets.

A growl echoed through the jungle. I darted glances at the crooks of the vined trees and stepped slowly in the direction I had come. Glowing eyes from above stopped me cold. A large catlike animal stared down from a thick branch and licked its chops.

Oh, Ancient One! I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. With smooth, calm movements, I trod backward, keeping the animal in my line of sight, only glancing down to make sure a jutting root didn’t trip my foot.

The beast fixed its stare in my direction, still as a statue. My boots padded the forest floor. A verdant branch cut into my view of the creature, and I continued to walk until I could see it no more. I spun around. Thick blobs of rain blurred my vision as I shot through the forest like an arrow.

Why hadn’t I been more concerned about losing my way? Had I secretly hoped I would stumble across the ruins, and the whyzer would bestow the gift with the wave of his hand? Had I been thinking at all? My stomach shriveled.

The forest held me in its clutches. I couldn’t see mountains or much of anything. How was I going to get back? A flash of light tore through the sky. Thunder roared, and the ground trembled.

It didn’t take me long to imagine a giant cat prowling in the canopy. I pumped my arms harder, looking over my shoulder, and slammed into something.

I screamed.

“Cypress, Cypress! It’s me.” Milo grabbed my shoulders.

My breath rushed out in spurts.

“Found her!” His bellow sent another jolt through my body.

In the distance, Jaime’s voice responded, “Heading to camp.”

Milo stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled, piercing the air. Another person whistled from a good distance away.

“What are you doing so deep in the woods?” Milo’s narrowed eyes told me his mood had not improved.

“I got lost.”

He massaged his brow and tugged on his dripping hair before meeting my gaze.

His eyes rounded. He pulled out a dagger, knees bending in a fight stance. Was he going to attack me? He flung his weapon.

I gasped.

The blade flew past me, and a black-furred beast smacked the blade, sending it soaring until it collided against the smooth bark of a tree and dropped.

Milo slipped out another dagger from his boot.

The beast let out a throaty roar.

Milo stabbed its shoulder. The beast shrieked in agony but clawed at him with the opposite paw. A red gash opened on the beast’s fur. Milo grunted, parried, lunged, but the beast continued to press forward.

Should I run? But Milo. Could I leave him behind? I dove for the dagger Milo had thrown and grasped the worn leather against my achy palm. I popped up. Feet apart. Ready to throw.

The beast caught sight of me. It pivoted in my direction and launched, claws exposed.

No time to think.

I slashed the blade in front of me, awaiting the impact.

Milo slammed into the cat’s side and cut into its neck. Blood gushed onto my tunic. The body thudded to the ground.

My grip remained firm around the hilt of the dagger as I watched the black fur over the creature’s ribs still. A metallic odor filled my nostrils, sickening in my empty stomach. My heartbeat pounded in my temples.

Bu-bum, bu-bum, bu-bum.

Milo took a long, slow breath and squared his shoulders. He looked at me with a hard glare. “Don’t,” he breathed. “Run off. Again.” He reached for my sleeve but stopped before touching it. For a second, I thought there was something more he wanted to say. Instead, he tipped his head to the side and signaled for me to follow him. I dared not unlock my fingers from the handle of the dagger. Who knew what other creatures lurked in the shadows?

I stayed close at Milo’s heels, adrenaline shaking through my body. I ducked under low branches and watched for roots springing high out of the ground. It surprised me how long it took to get back.

Milo slowed his gait upon reaching the pebbly shore. “Back off from my friend.” His harsh words woke me from my daze. He gave one pointed look and stalked ahead in the direction of our campsite.

“Excuse me?” I jogged to make it to his side. “Were you speaking to me?”

“Yes.” He glared in my direction. “You are trouble.”

“Well, you all didn’t need to come with us. I tried to part ways.”

“Try harder.” An intensity smoldered in his dark eyes.

No one had ever spoken so harshly or with such force to me in my life. “Why?” I stopped walking. “Explain. What trouble?”

He whipped around. His face contorted into a grimace. “Zichri will not lie if you press for answers. Ask him.”

I lifted my chin in return.

He strode away. His figure grew smaller as he turned a bend. Was he truly going to leave?

Cold pins prickled along my skin. I said to myself that Laude remained my sole reason to head back to camp. That was not true. I desired to see Zichri again, to hold his hand just like the last two nights. He provided me the encouragement I’d not felt in years.

I recited words to myself, trying to be convincing: Zichri’s just a pawn … a delightfully handsome one. He means nothing, just like all the other Himzos.

Milo was right about me needing to ask more questions. Crunching noise came from behind me, and I whipped around, dagger at the ready.

“Whoa! There you are.” Zichri’s hand shot out and relaxed as I lowered the blade. “What happened to you?”

A warmth spread through my muscles, loosening my limbs. “I had a close encounter. I—I wanted to see if I could find the ruins myself. Here, take this.” The lie slipped off my tongue before I had a chance to think it through. I bit my lip and held out the dagger.

“Milo’s. Hmm. You should keep it.”

“I don’t have a sheathe. What if I hurt myself?”

“If you insist. We’ll find you a sheath back at camp.” He brought my hand up to his plump lips and gently kissed my knuckles. His smile dimpled his cheeks. “Next time, could you at least give us a chance to dissuade you from running off by yourself?”

“I understand.”

A crack boomed near camp.

His eyes rounded, and a concern line deepened between his brows. “We should head back.”

I bobbed my head, unable to process what could have made such a noise. We strode downriver at a quick clip.

“What do you think that was?” I clutched the front of my tunic.

“I’m sure all is well.” He looked over his shoulder and across to the other riverbank. “One good thing came of you getting lost.”

“Oh?”

“I know where we can cross the river without having to swim against the current.”

“Good. I’m sure you and the others have been through many adventures before.” I slid my most gracious smile in place.

Zichri interpreted my statement as an invitation to sharenear-death experiences. Blas had gotten lost in a cave once. Jaime had snuck into an enemy fort but was captured, and then the men broke him out. Gonzalo had tumbled after climbing a rocky wall.

He avoided any mention of Giddel or the worry tiptoeing the lines of his face. What would we find back at camp?