Decisions, page 6
She caught herself abruptly, feeling like she’d swallowed something sharp.
In that moment, it seemed that she, too, had seen past the question. For it mattered not whether she felt remorse for her actions, the smoke had cleared and the deed was done. What concerned her now was not the question she’d been asking, but the one that was coming next.
“It isn’t good,” she determined, “when you can’t see their faces. It makes it too easy.”
Eden stared at her a moment, then squeezed her hand. “Yes, it does.”
Chapter 5
The sun rose like a lantern, straight up and perfectly round, like it had been pulled on a string directly into the sky. Its shimmering rays caught in the evergreen canopy and spilled like an overturned jar over the clearing, teasing the fringe of Kiera’s lashes and coaxing open her eyes.
It was early still, with a dewy mist clouding the trees. She sat up slowly, blinking in the silence. The air was cool, and filled with birdsong. She could trace the patterns of them, weaving in cheerful ribbons through the branches. The bright call of a passerine, the distant screech of a hawk.
Good morning, she thought, feeling warm for the first time.
The white ashes of the fire stirred weakly in the breeze, but aside from that, the clearing was still. The vampire was gone, having taken both the night watches, and the others were still drowsing in their beds, their breathing shallow and their bodies heavy with sleep.
She watched them a moment, lips curling in a secret smile.
In a way, it reminded her of those early days; before the vampire had been allowed to sleep beside them and they’d acknowledged the length of their journey with the comfort of a tent. There had been nothing those first nights, nothing but each other, splayed in a circle with tops of their heads touching. Nothing but warmth and restful breathing, beneath a glimmering mirror of stars.
The fae stirred lightly, rolling onto his side.
He may have tricked the others into a fireside conversation, but the hike had been long, and he was tired. Strands of bright hair trailed over the leaves behind him, like threads of a great tapestry that had been carelessly felled. His head was cushioned gently on a pillow of the vampire’s cloak.
Perhaps sensing him move, Jesse stirred as well—rolling over in a similar fashion, and winding a sleeping arm around the fae’s waist. Kiera stilled upon the blanket, watching with an unseen smile. They had slept in close quarters so long, there had been many similar moments. But they had all resolved themselves before waking, and never had she seen one for herself.
Eden lay there a moment, feeling the weight of it, caught between waking and sleep. At first, it looked as though he might drift off again. Then some hazy part of him remembered the vampire was still patrolling. His eyes fluttered open, glancing down at the arm.
I must have this painted.
By that time, Kiera was in stitches—pressing the weave of her braid against her lips to muffle the sound. The fae looked around and saw her sitting there. He stared a moment, still trying to rouse himself, then a trace of humor stirred in his eyes. He smiled indulgently and reached down, trying gently to free the shifter’s arm. It did not budge. If anything, it tightened.
“Jess,” he whispered, not wanting to startle him.
The shifter lay behind him on the blankets, his lips parted in dreaming, utterly oblivious to the rest of the world. When the fae tried again to dislodge him, he buried his face in the blanket. It wasn’t until he stretched his arm deeper, Eden caught him swiftly by the wrist.
“Jess,” he said again.
Jesse’s eyes opened slowly, like the parting of curtains. He took a moment to focus, staring blankly at the fae, waiting, it seemed, for him to say something further.
They saw the moment it clicked.
“Oh, heavens!” he gasped, jerking away his arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—stop laughing, Kiera—I didn’t mean to...” He trailed off with a helpless sigh, blushing with shame. “Sorry.”
Eden only grinned, pushing upright onto his arms. “For months, you have been restraining yourself. Almost a year. You should be nothing but proud. I know I am. Proud of you that is.”
“Please, don’t make this a thing.”
“Who could possibly blame you?”
There was a stirring in the branches, and Evander stepped into the clearing—having felt the fae awaken when he was still miles away. He paused curiously at the scene in front of him, and Jesse flashed a pleading look. Eden pursed his lips graciously, pushing to his feet.
“I missed you, my love.” He kissed the vampire lightly on the forehead, drawing back to take in the look of him, brushing dew off the cuffs of his sleeves. “I should not have thought that possible, given the way you’ve badgered me the last few days. You should not have taken both watches.”
Evander playfully tapped his nose. “I was never far away,” he teased, reaching into his coat. “Would you like some breakfast? I found some of those berries you like.”
They shone in his palm, a deep purple.
“Those are poison,” Eden said lightly, tossing them into the trees. “But I would be glad to find something else. Would you care to keep me company?”
The vampire merely smiled.
They tugged the others unceremoniously out of bed, and gathered up the cloaks that had been piled beneath them—shaking out the pine needles, and slipping them over their arms. It was the lightest they’d travelled since meeting with the fae, and they felt the absence of those comforts to which they’d become accustomed. The weapons, in particular, were a loss.
“Remind me to take some time before we leave,” Eden murmured, peering speculatively about the trees, “I wish to carve myself a bow.” The vampire nodded and they swept gracefully towards the forest, but he paused at the tree line. “Oh—just a moment.”
Before the others realized what was happening, he doubled back and knelt beside the fire, pressing a sweet kiss to Jesse’s cheek.
“I’ll see you at breakfast,” he whispered.
KIERA WAS STILL LAUGHING when the immortals vanished into the foliage, leaving the shifter blushing furiously in their wake. She was still laughing when said shifter grabbed the tops of her arms and threatened to kill her if she didn’t stop. Unfortunately, that made things quite a bit worse.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’ve found your sense of humor,” he said ruefully, kicking another log onto the fire. “Even if you’ve revealed yourself to be utterly callous. And single.”
The sun was bright, but they were high in the mountains and the air was cooler than what they were used to. Summer was quickly fading, a brisk autumn was coming fast.
She flashed a grin, settling down beside him. “I’m not single. Stop breaking up with me.”
“No.”
She grinned again, letting her gaze drift around the clearing.
With nothing but the fire to mark their presence, the place was whole and untouched, as if it had never borne the print of a man. Bright stars of tilsbreath and aconite dotted the bushes around the base of the redwoods. Crystal beads of morning dew clung to the tips of the grass. Somewhere not far away, the fae was roaming the slopes, the vampire drifting by his side. Somewhere a little further still, a great tower was spearing up from the forest, a thousand ravens waiting inside.
A sense of unreality swept over, and she hugged her knees to her chest.
“When did my life get so strange?” she murmured.
It was a question they had asked often, usually in the quiet moments between them, after the others had left. It wasn’t like the immortals would disagree, but in their own way, they were part of the problem. How did one get used to it? Gathering kindling with a vampire, trading jokes with a fae. Sailing across great oceans, and falling into the perils of a dwarven mine shaft. Throw in a three-headed dragon, and a celestial battle for the very heart of the realm...?
Not to mention some pretty strange rocks.
“I’m sorry,” Jesse quipped, “did you never imagine you’d get stuck on an endless camping trip with a neurotic fae and a vampire? Did you never imagine you’d be throwing dragon fire with your bare hands?” His cheeks dimpled with a little grin. “Not very inspired of you.”
She laughed and leaned against him, pleased they were teasing each other once again. It felt like ages since they’d had the space to do it. Even longer since either one had wanted to laugh.
The world had risen against them. It had been easier to scream instead.
“I’m serious. Does it ever strike you, sometimes?” she asked. “Even now? Do you ever look at the place we’re standing, and wonder how in the blazes we got here?”
And how we’re ever going to get back?
His face softened a little, like he’d guessed what she hadn’t said.
“It strikes me often,” he admitted. “There are times we’ll be sitting around the campfire, or telling stories on the trail. Times we’ll be poring over the map, arguing about the quickest route to some far-off place...” He shook his head thoughtfully. “It feels normal, now. That is perhaps the strangest thing. But there are times I pinch myself, when it feels like I’ve drifted into a fantasy.”
Her eyes flashed sideways. “...like this morning?”
“If you mention that again, I’ll throw you off a cliff.”
Inconvenient. There are always cliffs around.
“It makes me worried, sometimes,” he continued thoughtfully, “for what happens after.” He answered her questioning gaze with a little shrug. “How do we hang up our cloaks and go back to normal? What would that even look like? How do we stop moving?” he simplified things still further, shaking his head. “I don’t ever want to stop. Now that we’ve started—”
He caught himself suddenly, eyes lit with an inner smile.
“Making plans,” he summarized with quiet satisfaction. “That is my favorite part. Before the two of us met, before this all started...I had never made any plans.”
She stared at him a moment, utterly lost for words.
At a glance, it struck her as rather sad. Yet she understood it completely. When you were born a poor child in the mountains, you were raised not to make plans. The very instinct was driven out of you. What was the point in dreaming about the future when there was a decent chance you might not last the day? Life was hard, and often the best one could hope for, was to merely survive it. But the longer his words settled, the more she thought they were the sweetest she’d ever heard.
“That’s it?” she finally quipped. “That’s what strikes you as strange?”
Not the dragons, and monsters, and gods at our back?
He shrugged, gazing up at the trees. “It’s one of many things.”
They sat there for a while in silence, blinking up at the sunlit canopy, wishing it was possible to lose themselves in a single moment, to linger without end. The sun was rising, burning away the mist still hovering in the forest. His skin was warm, she felt the flush of it through his sleeves.
He’s always warm, always reaching for my hand.
“You asked if I’d ever imagined it?” she asked suddenly, breaking the long quiet. “I never imagined I would meet a man who’d stand each day beside me, holding the pieces together. I never imagined I’d find an anchor amidst this chaos, a reason to start making all those plans.”
Their eyes met in the stillness, alone at the top of the world.
“I would have never dared to dream.”
IT WASN’T LONG BEFORE the immortals returned, carrying everything they could for the makings of a woodland breakfast. There were dandelion greens and hazelnuts, cupped handfuls of raspberries and fresh apples from a grove by the river. The fae had even found some chicory, which he stewed in a bowl for tea. It was a veritable feast, and the friends gorged like there had been none other.
When they were finished, Eden pushed to his feet and drifted aimlessly through the trees, trailing his fingers along their sun-warmed branches as he moved from one to another. What exactly he was looking for, no one could say. It was quite possible he’d be unable to articulate it himself. But when he got to the boughs of a white ash, he stopped abruptly—gazing up with satisfaction.
A knife came out, and the wood was clipped. The bow was the first to take shape, then he sat by the fire and started whittling the arrows. A full company, he needed. No part could be done halfway. So the others fetched another log and sat beside him. The flames crackled happily, and the birds were singing in the trees above them. There was nothing else besides the quick sounds of the fae’s knife as it chipped away at the branches, carving those deadly shafts into life.
It was easy work, after so many centuries’ practice, and his mind was free to wander. There were many times Kiera saw his eyes trailing after the vampire, as Evander paced around the clearing, staring with that same peculiar intensity that had caught her attention that first day.
What are you thinking?
Of course, it was impossible to tell. Unless they wished it to be known, there was no one better than a fae for keeping a secret. There was only the weight of his eyes, that watchful flicker.
After some time had passed, the vampire noticed it as well.
“Did you say something?” he asked suddenly, looking across the clearing.
Eden glanced down quickly, shaking his head. “No, nothing.”
The carving resumed, and they returned to their separate corners; the fae to his arrows, the vampire to his thoughts. It was coming on mid-day, but the others paid it little attention. Pressed as they were to reach the tower, they had found themselves in a unique position: for once, there was no one chasing after them and the city stood just on the other side of the mountains, a few days away.
For once, their problems seemed manageable.
“Perhaps we should make envoys of our own,” Jesse said abruptly, tired of staring into the gorge that held the river, and plopping down beside the crackling fire. “I know that is our intention, but I’m not talking about the ravens. Perhaps we should seek out those other creatures”—he paused meaningfully, so they caught his dark intention—“the ones with a ravening need to destroy.”
Manageable? There is something wrong with my boyfriend’s head.
“That is not funny,” Kiera said flatly, as the vampire threw a sour look. “Until you’ve learned the art of being funny, perhaps you should focus on holding your tongue.”
“The grimlocks, the ogres and giants.” He leaned back his head with a grin, determined not to notice the quick flashing of the fae’s knife. “After all the damage we’ve done ourselves, they might have even heard of us. They might receive us with honors, allow us to present our case.”
It was a problem with wolves and restlessness.
Sometimes, they actually wanted someone to be chasing them. Sometimes they rebelled at the idea of leisure, needing to stir up their own brand of mischief, just to make the hours go by.
“Why stop there?” she asked coldly. “Why not send for the blisserin?”
“The blisserin!” he exclaimed, rewarding her with a twinkling smile. “I’d almost forgotten about that. Well, if there’s one, I’m sure there’s more. We could scour the countryside, looking in all those shadowy places that are perfect for ambush and help is hard to find.”
I’m going to kill him.
“Perhaps we should merely bait the forest,” she answered innocently, fingering the pendant that rested against her chest. Since leaving the valley, she’d taken once again to wearing it. The other was still housed in the sole of her boot. There were times she forgot it was there. “It seemed to like the taste of wolf—we could find you a long tether, stake it deep in the ground.”
The shifter nodded thoughtfully, frowning to himself. “That might work, although it seemed more interested in Eden. We should keep you firmly out of sight,” he added, “the girl who gave them an irrational fear of books.”
“The Carpathians may have interest.”
“I hear the Carpathians are good fighters,” he said brightly.
At this, the others turned in slow unison—murdering him with their eyes. It was a joke that touched a little too closely, and he lifted both hands, a portrait of innocence.
“That’s just what I’ve heard.”
At that point, Kiera turned in exasperation, waiting for one of the immortals to give one of their usual warnings. They would cast him from the mountaintop. They would crush every bone in his spine. But they no longer appeared to be listening. In fact, she got the feeling they hadn’t really been listening in quite some time. She was about to summon their attention, demanding some kind of retribution, when Eden jerked up his head suddenly, staring at the vampire in muted surprise.
“What was that?” he asked bracingly.
The others followed his gaze, staring without understanding. Evander himself looked just as bewildered, looking back for only a moment, before shaking his head.
“I said nothing.”
Instead of accepting this, or doing anything that could be perceived as remotely normal, the fae continued to stare at him—his blue eyes dilated in fierce attention, every muscle in his body gone taut and still. For the space of a single breath, the pair locked eyes, staring across the clearing like they were statues; waiting, it seemed, with no sound between them but the rise and fall of breath.
Then something shifted.
Eden bolted to his feet, scrambling backwards over the log.
He moved so quickly, it made him clumsy—such a rare occurrence, it could be counted on a single hand. His mouth fell open, and his lovely face paled like winter’s first snow. He stood there a split second longer, frozen in almost childlike surprise, then he turned and sprinted into the woods.
What the hells?
Kiera looked after him astonishment, before turning to the vampire.
Evander was stricken, a hand clapped over his mouth. For a moment, he could do nothing more than stand there. Then he grabbed two fists of hair, looking very much like a child himself.
