Sorry, Papa. I promise I’ll learn how to throw fire and keep hold of my dagger at the same time.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for the dagger and relishing the cool feel of its handle back within my grips. “For everything.”
Ian places his hands together before his face and bows. Such a reverent gesture that I don’t deserve. If anyone should be bowing at this point, it should be me. Slipping the dagger safely into my boot, I turn to face Bates while studiously ignoring the brooding archer beside him. After all, it’s Aras’ fault that Bates came along, whether Papa would like me to believe that or not. I don’t know what kind of games he is playing, but the Aras I know would never greet me with a frustratingly blank look on his face.
Unless Reeve and Ian are right, and I never really knew him at all.
“I’m going down to the river to fill my pouch before we go,” I say, shooting a look toward Bates’ smug face and grabbing Ian’s torch to light within the fire.
When his head nods of vague consent, I turn to make my way to the water. For the first time since shoving his bow in Ian’s face, I feel the subtle shift in Aras’ stance. He aims to follow me, and for once, I aim for his heart.
“Alone,” I call over my shoulder, stilling his muddied boots in their tracks. “And if any of you should think of following, consider yourself to have a date with my dagger.”
Papa growls. Ian laughs. Bates utters what I think must be an Orien curse. But not Aras… no. He doesn’t make a single sound, yet there is nothing to mistake the look of complete regret that pools around his edges. And though the thrill of keeping them all at bay for this short moment of time should fill me with pride, why do I feel as if I’ve died a hundred wretched deaths as his careful eyes follow my blazing light through the trees?
Forty-Nine
The soft rapids are a lullaby. A tune I’ve decided they’ve chosen to play for me and me alone. I don’t know why the cool waters reach out to calm my soul in this way, as if their sound alone could mend the tiny fissures forming from within. Maybe it’s some random gift of magic. For once, something that doesn’t fight for hurt and control. Or perhaps, I’m just the only one crazy enough to hear it. The only one in need.
I filled my pouch ages ago. It lies to the side, stored away in my pack that’s safely perched along the river’s edge, dutifully waiting for me to muster up the courage to find my way back to camp. I’ll do it, of course. Eventually. But for now, I’m content to stare into the churning waters as the moon’s reflection peeks down. I’m overcome with the worst feeling that I might be lost, yet I haven’t moved an inch.
“So you’re still on a first-name basis with him, I see.” His warm voice floats from the trees, raising chills across my tightly bound arms. “At least that leaves a little bit of encouragement, then.”
Heat flutters within my chest—a trapped bird waiting to be released. Words of snarled wit threaten to retreat into the air, but I pin my lips tight, content to keep what little is left of my control. I don’t have to turn to know that he approaches in that carefully precise, yet arrogant way of his. A strut that speaks of complete ease and power. I also don’t have to turn to know that he smirks. That his annoyingly perfect dimple sent straight from the evil depths of magic’s unknown shines in even the barest of lights.
No, I don’t have to turn to know any of this. It’s already burned within my heart.
The soft crunch of rocks bend beneath his weight, and my body tenses as his careful fingers reach out to corral my waves of hair, pushing it to the side and twisting it into a soft knot by my shoulder. By the time his painfully longing words whisper against my neck, I’m afraid I’ll hit the ground. “From the moment I awoke without you by my side, I wondered how I could ever make it right. If there was anything I could say or do to one day make it better. But then, as I saw you stand with a prince who hopes to hold your heart, I knew it was a fruitless measure. For I could live a hundred more seasons, and there still wouldn’t be enough days left in my life to tell you how sorry I am.”
His warm arms slide around my waist, and my tense back molds against his chest. Together, we breathe as a new melody washes us anew. Its slow rhythm speaks of loyalty and trust. Friendship and hope. Frantic hearts and longing beats. It speaks of us.
I close my eyes as the stubble of his chin rubs against my neck and his lips dance dangerously close to my ear. “My Bravest Penelope, why must you make me miss you so?”
And then I do turn, and we’re caught in the tangled embrace that I think we hoped for all along. My arms hook around his neck, and his chin rests comfortably atop my untamed hair. His hands trace soothing lines along my back, and I breathe him in, this handsome fool, and for some terribly loathsome reason, I wish we’d never part.
“This was more of the reunion that I was expecting,” I whisper against the dark fabric of his tunic.
A low rumble forms against my ear, and I quickly avert my eyes when I notice that those same coarse fibers stretch in an alluring mold across his chest.
Cursed stars above. How can one hug be the source of all my undoing?
Pulling back from his all-too-comforting embrace, I lower my eyes to the less intimidating floor. Aras’ hands reach out as if to pull me back within his grasp, but stop midway, curling into fists and flopping lifelessly by his side. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from this adventure, it’s that many times we have to do things we wish we didn’t.
“But I’d say this reunion is a lot different than having an arrow shoved in your face.”
Aras sighs as if he’s about to unleash a heavy burden from his chest and runs a shaky hand through his messy hair. What’s left of the little flame still alight on the torch shines up from the ground, lighting the deep lines of indecision crossing his face.
“Things are complicated, Bravest,” he finally mumbles.
“Oh, complicated, huh?” I mock with a wild throw of my hands. “Do you mean as in my whole life story is complicated, or that you brought one of my father’s henchmen to escort me back home, complicated? Because truly, I’d like to know.”
“Bravest,” he says, stretching out every syllable within my made-up name. “I was going to tell you. All of it. I swear—”
I roll my eyes, twisting on my feet and marching a short line across the bank and back. “In due time, I’m sure.”
A low growl leaves his chest. Before I can twist away, his hands are on my shoulders, halting me in place. “Look, it’s why I went back for the journal. It’s hard for me, alright? You don’t know what it’s like to carry someone’s secrets for the better part of your life. You don’t know what it’s like to live afraid that at any moment, you might slip up or someone powerful will come along and leach them from your soul.”
He pauses, a sad smile gracing his lips, while his warm hands trail down my coiled arms, leaving sparks in their wake. “I’ve always been proud to keep your secrets, and honestly, I don’t know how to let them go. Even to you. I thought that maybe if you read your mother’s journal, it would make it easier. You know, for us both.”
My thoughts flash to the last of her entries, when she spoke of Aras’ desperate protection over my sister, and his need to look after a ghost of a girl he didn’t even know. Sure, the journal has given me answers, but it’s given me a heartbreaking confusion as well. I needed more than words to help me understand and make it through. I needed the boy within the passages. I needed him.
Biting my lip, I force my eyes to look into the ones above. “I’m thankful for the journal. Truly, I am. But maybe you should have considered my stubborn nature before you followed through. After all, I’m not exactly a reader at heart, and I didn’t heed your encouragement to look at it until Reeve practically shoved it down my throat.”
At the mention of our dear acquaintance, his eyes close with a wince, and his forehead creases with well-deserved frustration. “Oh, yes, Reeve.”
“Reeve, indeed, Aras. S
o perhaps you could see why I’m little perturbed to have learned my life’s history from none other than my psychotic cousin and mysterious husband-to-be.”
Aras opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand, cutting him off with yet another problem that’s been bugging me since this journey began. “And why was it exactly that you felt it a good idea to introduce the two of us? Did you not think that, oh, you know, he might have scarily unrealistic ties to the Theron Court? Honestly, Aras. I thought he was going to kill me!”
“I know, I know,” Aras musters through clenched teeth. “When I brought you to Reeve’s camp, I truly thought it was the best place to keep you safe.”
“In the lion’s den itself?”
“Yes, Bravest, in the lion’s den itself. I knew he was aware of our journey. Especially after what happened to their last leader, I knew he wouldn’t let us pass through without seeing him first. I thought that if I were to be open about our visit, as if there wasn’t anything to hide, that he wouldn’t scrutinize your existence any more than he should.” His eyes alight with a spark, and he trails his hand back down my shoulder and up again. “And you know, I thought that if he did discover who you were, he would help us, or at least be a little more—”
“Cousinly?” I guess, catching his fingers with my own when they trail down again. “Trust me—I pondered the same thing while he locked me in a dark treehouse for hours on end.”
“Oh, Bravest Penelope.” He sighs, sending my nerves on end as he uses our clenched fingers to pull me into another tight hug. “Trust me when I say that if I ever see him again, I may very well skin his Theron hide. Although, something tells me you already did.”
I can’t help the wide smile that pushes against his chest. Too tired to gloat, I simply shrug. There will be plenty of time to show off later, and I have a few more questions that need answering before we make our way back to the awaiting world.
“Reeve certainly got what he had coming, I’m afraid, but that still doesn’t explain Bates and why he’s here. Isn’t this just the perfect opportunity for Knox to begin his war?”
Aras startles, pulling me back and running his hand along my cheek. “It would be the perfect opportunity if he knew.”
“And you’re telling me that he doesn’t?” I gasp, catching his hand in my own.
“If there is one thing you need to know about Bates, it’s that he is in the business of serving himself. While he may be one of your father’s trusted men, he also knows when he should keep information to himself. After all, it will be Bates on the frontlines of a thrown-together war. If he is going to have to fight, he’d rather do it when the odds are in his favor.”
“Meaning, when I’m fully trained and able to work with my father?” I infer.
“Exactly. With each day, Knox is growing anything but patient. If he knew we were delayed by a Theron outcast and his prince, the fire would already be raining from the skies, win or not.”
“But that still doesn’t explain your rude behavior back at camp,” I say, still bruised from our lovely first encounter. “You didn’t have to act as if I’ve always made your blood boil and run over. Ian, I can see, though that was still a little more than unnecessary.”
Thankfully, he has the decency to look abashed, and his eyes dart down to our squirming boots. “Well, you see, Bates doesn’t exactly understand our relationship, as it were.”
My eyes flick away from his warming cheeks as I fight the dreaded heat that surely waits on my own. I’m not sure if I’m prepared for where this conversation is going, but if he brings up our last night together, I may very well flog him and run away before it’s too late.
“Obviously, as I was like a son to your mother, he understands I might hold you with a much higher regard than most.” His words soften, and there’s a subtle unease that trickles through his voice, causing my chest to rise in fitful puffs. “And as I’m sure you already know, I’m also close to your sister, but in a very different way, of course.”
I gulp, silently begging my knees not to fail me now. Aras takes both of my hands and pulls them in front of his chest, so close to his lowered chin that I can feel the heat of his words against my skin. “But he doesn’t know how I truly feel, and that’s exactly how it will stay.”
My eyes peek up at his unreadable face, watching him as his thumbs move in soothing circles across my hands. I wonder if I will ever know how he truly feels. And better yet, will I ever understand how I truly feel about him?
“As long as Bates thinks I’m in this to get you home to train with your father, that’s all that matters,” he continues, looking up from our clasped hands and into my gaze. “He has to believe that I’ll help you destroy Theron, but more importantly, he can’t know that you’re already capable of more than they’d imagine.”
“And that’s why you lied to him about the fire and made Ian look like a blubbering fool?”
“Mostly,” he smiles crookedly, “but also because I really wanted to see the prince squirm.”
“I get it,” I admit. “The less magic I can produce, the longer I can bide myself time to decide what to do with this mess. Trust me. I’m all about deceiving Bates and my father in any way that I can, but that doesn’t get you off the hook completely.”
“Is that so?” He laughs, sending waves of tingles up spine. “And just what do I have to do to get off this proverbial hook of yours, Princess, and who’s to say I don’t want to be ensnarled in your graces forever?”
“Yes, that’s so,” I playfully retort, “but you have to promise me a few things in return.”
He faces turns serious, and his hands move to cup softly against my cheeks. “Name your price, Bravest. I’d like to say that some decisions may be too much to bear, but I can’t. Because at the end of the day, what’s best for you is what I’ll do. So what is it that you want, my Bravest? What is it that you need?”
His words are barely finished before what’s left of any resolve I clung to during this whole exchange melts and puddles to my feet, waiting to be carried away into the dark clouds above. My heart breaks for him, this poor boy. For at the end of the day, there’s a part of him that’s still worried about my future—still worried I’ll choose a different path. One that includes the Theron prince.
If only the fool would open his eyes.
“First, no more secrets.” Aras’ head starts to nod in approval, but I push on, determined for him to hear me all the way through. “I mean it, Aras. Not even one conveniently hidden truth. I swear that if another long-lost family member materializes out of these woods, I’m going to lose it, and Ashen knows it won’t be pretty.”
“Anything else?” he asks, gliding his thumbs softly against my cheeks.
I close my eyes, squeezing them tight as I prepare to admit my one last request. The one I need the most. When I open them again, I could swear I almost see my future swim across my vision.
“I want to go to Orien, Aras, and I want you by my side.”
His shoulders relax, and a warm smile colors his face in breathtaking hues. “Well, then, I think I can do that.”
“And just one more thing,” I continue, causing his eyes to appraise me with a playful squint. “I need you to be nice to Ian. At least, just try. He’s nicer than you think, and I have a feeling we’ll need his help one day.”
Aras bites his lip and tilts his chin to the side as if I’ve just offered him a choice between diving off a cliff and having his limbs torn by a wild beast. I don’t even attempt to hide my amusement.
“You drive a hard bargain, Bravest.” He smiles. “Maybe I can try a little harder not to despise him so much, though I must attempt to keep some of the charade alive for Bates. He wouldn’t take kindly to me befriending the enemy, after all.”
“Yes, of course,” I say, trying to respond in the most professional and detached manner possible, only to fail miserably with a sly grin in the end. “Mustn’t worry Bates.”
Aras laughs once more, and the sound sends a delic
ious buzz across my chest. I had forgotten how much I missed it.
“Let’s go, Bravest,” he says, pulling me with his hand as he pads backward toward the trees. “We’ve kept them waiting long enough, and by now, one of them is bound to show up and make sure you haven’t made good on that promise with the dagger.”
“Hmmm,” I muse, raising a finger to my chin. “Perhaps we should do something a little dramatic. You know, just to follow through on the charade with Bates.”
Aras wags a single finger in front of his face and clicks his tongue. “Not unless you want me to start calling you Penelope, Princess.”
I raise my brows with a playful tease, sending an innocent shove against his back as he turns to lead us into the woods and finally back on track.
Fifty
I’ve always been horrible at goodbyes, mainly because I’ve never had to give any. In Ashen, we didn’t leave each other’s sides. We were all happy. Content. And though no one ever bothered to tell me, cursed. But in its own way, what a blessing that curse turned out to be. For it never left me feeling as I do right now.
“And you’re sure you’re fine with this?” I ask, expertly blinking away any remaining tears. “Because I’m pretty sure commandeering one’s horse is one of the dirtiest tricks in the book.”
Honestly, I have no idea what I’m talking about, but at least my words sound sincere. Something just doesn’t feel right about taking this kind boy’s horses and leaving him to resume the long trek home on foot. Although I know we’ll meet again under hopefully much better circumstances, I can’t help but cringe every time I turn to see that understanding look of his.
The least he could do is kick dirt in my face.
“For the last time, Penelope, it’s not as big of a deal as you think it is.”
Ian strides across the small camp to where I stand beside the source of my unrest. He smiles to himself, rubbing a soft hand down her black mane. “Besides, I would have given her to you anyway,” he says, looking away as his cheeks hint of red. “You know, as a wedding gift of sorts.”
Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1) Page 36
