Page 108 of Kingdoms of Night

And, it seemed, this blanket was now the totality of his clothing, if it could be called such.

“There.” She placed her arm around his shoulder and held the soft fabric together. “Do you think you can walk? It isn’t far. Maybe fif”—when he eyed her, she cleared her throat—“twenty steps into the forest.”

Twenty steps, and he could rest for the night? It sounded easy, even if it felt impossible.

No, he could do that much. He would.

“I can do it.” The words stumbled from his mouth. His throat scratched, and his leg muscles were as solid as unbaked bread. He had to lean against her.

Buttercup took the burning stick in her mouth while Hawthorn grabbed ahold of Idalno’s large pack, dragging it along.

He’d barely moved, already winded, and labored to find his footing on wavering ground.

Another step, and an elm came into his reach. He braced on the trunk for a moment, saving a beat of stillness, but Idalno’s hold didn’t leave his shoulder. She gently urged him on.

He leaned against her, moving his grip from one tree to the next.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he mumbled.

She glanced up at him and nodded warmly. “Have to be, if you’re going to move vats of poison and shift fermenting logs.”

It was strange to see her without all her makeup, with her hair coming undone at the crown and along her many braids.

Her eyes went soft. “You’re going to be all right, you know.”

Staying alive was one of his few skills. Had he even protected them from the spriggan? Everyone was alive. She hadn’t run. But she’d had more of that strange plant magic, and it had saved them. At least he’d managed to take the beating.

The trail of smoke ahead caught him. He blinked, his eyes burning. Buttercup kept the torch steady, but the smoke still drifted into his path. The small golden-orange glow lit enough of a path to see, but even so, his werewolf vision made the night nearly as clear as day. Clear, if not stable.

The world still spun, the hard-packed earth beneath his feet unsteady.

“Not twenty steps,” he grunted. They’d already passed that much.

“Really?” Her breaths were uneven, as if she strained. “You’re sure? I think you lost count. It’s just up ahead. Another ten, maybe.”

Liar. Such a liar.

Even as his stomachache doubled him over, he hid an inward grin at her game. When they trudged through another ten steps, he eyed her expectantly.

“Oof, another ten, I mean.” She inhaled gravely.

He raised an eyebrow. “You can’t count, can you?”

She shook her head vehemently. “I take smaller steps than you!”

“That—” He blinked. That was ridiculous. It didn’t change the number of—

“Just up here,” she said brightly. “Another ten, all right? At least give me that.”

Mm-hmm. He knew this game well. He’d played it for years trying to get Annette to eat her vegetables. How often had she played this with her little cousin, Lalko?

“You’re such a liar.” He shook his head. “Prove it. Ten steps.”

“One. Two. Three. Four,” she said, her eyes wide, lively as they took a step with each number. “Six. Two. One. Two.”

What? No. No! “That’s not—”

“One. Two. Three. Seven. One.” Her mouth twitching, she quickened the pace. “See, we aren’t to ten yet.”

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