Page 173 of Daughter of No Worlds

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I did,eventually, have to pry myself away. The sun had not quite risen when I defied my every instinct and removed myself from Tisaanah’s arms, throwing my clothes back on and giving her a — fine, two; fine, three — goodbye kisses. We were in mutual agreement that it was better to avoid the awkward questions that would come with my leaving after sunrise.

The dusky darkness met me with a wall of cool air that was one part refreshing, one part depressing, like a physical manifestation of how different the inside of that tent was to the rest of the world.

In there, I could remove myself from reality and think about nothing but Tisaanah for five blissful hours.

Out here, we were surrounded by displaced people whose homes had been destroyed, and we were on our way to fight the most powerful house in Threll.

Well, that was more effective than any bucket of cold water:Oh, yes, now I remember. Everything is terrible.

I kept my steps silent as I moved across the path to my own tent, glancing to the other darkened tents and sleeping bodies to my left. Tisaanah’s tent sat on the outskirts of the camp, beside mine, so it wasn’t far. Still, I was careful not to wake anyone as I opened the flap—

“You smell like debauchery.”

I jumped so high that I had to bite back a curse, whipping around to see Sammerin seated cross-legged beside the path, in front of his shelter. With his dark clothing and his typical quiet demeanor, he practically melted into the dusk.

“Shit, Sammerin, don’t do that to me.” I stepped towards him, examining his face while trying not to let him know I was doing it. “Don’t you have more productive things to do? Like sleep, for example. Perhaps that would be a better use of your time.”

Even in the darkness, it was easy to see that shadows pooled beneath his eyes, his quiet amusement weighed down by exhaustion. Yesterday had been a long, hard day for him. Lots of people to heal — and, of course, putting down Reshaye took a massive amount of energy. When I last saw him, he was so spent that he practically had to drag himself back to his tent.

Sammerin just looked at me, that knowing look sparkling in his eye, and raised his eyebrows slightly. “Have fun?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Max, what’s this?” He pointed to his tent.

I knew this was not going anywhere in my favor. “I’d love to play this game, but I have all kinds of important things to do.”

“This is a tent. A shelter constructed of fabric. Fabric is a material not known for its sound dampening qualities.” He said all of this in that perpetually smooth, calm voice, but his tired eyes glittered with laughter. “You’re lucky that I’m the only one close enough to hear.”

The thought of Zeryth— orNura—

I cringed and tried not to show it. “Firstly, I am a gentleman and therefore, again, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But secondly, if I did —theoretically— I’d find it highly, highly suspect that you listened to that.”

“Be assured that I tried very hard not to. But at least we got the inevitable out of the way.” Then, something shifted in his expression. The amusement faded. “I hope you’re both ready for today.”

A knot formed in my stomach. Right. In hours, Tisaanah would be walking back into the home of the man who had— well, I didn’t even want to think about all of the things that those people had done to her. She —we —were about the take on the most powerful house in Threll. And I’d have to watch her put herself in that kind of danger. And, of course, Reshaye…

“I’ll be more ready after another hour of sleep,” I grumbled, shoving my anxiety down my throat.

Sammerin stared at me with that searching concern for a couple of seconds longer, then shrugged. “At least if you die, you’ll die happy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t need anyone’s leftovers.”

I stifled a chuckle as I went into my tent.

Chapter Sixty-Four

Tisaanah

He had been gone for minutes, and I already felt his absence like an aching emptiness in the center of my chest. The tent was colder without him. Goosebumps were forming on my naked skin. And I could already feel the looming shadow of anxiety encroaching at the edge of my thoughts.

Anxiety. Reality.

But I tried to take just one more moment to lie there in the afterglow. I flattened my palm against the bedroll beside me. Warm. His scent — our scent — still hung in the air, sweet and familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

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