Page 87 of Joy Guardian

“How?”

“It’s not very difficult. All it takes is a simple spell and a dash of yellow sand. The storm will hide any tracks anyway eventually. But if they returned before that happened, they would be moving away from us, following the wrong tracks.”

“Good,” Shyanne grunted approvingly.

Gefred snorted. “There is no such thing as yellow sand.”

“There is in the world Above,” Kurai assured him. “The one I have actually came from the world of humans. The queen’s guards brought it back on their shoes and clothing when snatching Joy Vessels from a desert in the human world. I was allowed to collect it all. See?” He produced from his bag a small, corked vial with plain ordinary sand inside.

Gefred clicked his tongue in wonder. “It doesn’t even sparkle!”

“Exactly.” Kurai’s face lit up. “Isn’t it extraordinary? I don’t have much, but only a dash is needed for the spell to work.”

“That bag of yours is filled with rarities,” Malis tossed over her shoulder, passing by with a bundle of curved wooden planks that served as tent frames.

“Well, I am a rarity myself now,” Kurai retorted. “There are just a handful of Joy Guardians left.”

He sighed before helping Gefred untie the bundles from my horse’s back. I went with Shyanne to help her set up the few tents that survived the fire, while Raimus took care of the horses.

My thoughts remained with Kurai, however. Spreading the thick, woven rags over the round, dome-shaped frames of the tents, I stole glances in his direction. Our gazes met, and he smiled at me. His attitude toward me hadn’t seemed to change. But something was off, and maybe it was all in my head, but I missed the ease of our interactions from before and loathed the tensionthat had replaced it ever since he said those three cursed little words.

I love you.

Why, oh why, did he have to say them?

I heard so many I-love-yous during my marriage, they lost their beautiful meaning to me. On the contrary, I’d learned to pull my head into my shoulders and wait warily for what would inevitably come next.

Dylan used to say “I love you” as a preamble to “but” before he would recite a long list of his disappointments with me. Or he’d say it as an excuse after hurting me,“You know I only do this because I love you. This is for your own good. You need to know when you made a mistake and learn not to make them again.”

The echo of his scornful voice in my head made my stomach roil. The deep-rooted fear rose its head, making me look over my shoulder, as if my loathed ex-husband would suddenly appear from the desert, smiling with his fist raised for a blow.

“Ciana.”

I jumped at the sound of the voice behind me, a very different voice because it sounded like a caress when he said my name.

Kurai approached with two meal packs, an orange, and a roll of white bread in his hands. A water bag was under his elbow, pressed to his side.

“We’re out of pears, sadly. But I thought you may like these instead.”

“Thanks. I’ll eat anything right now.” I eagerly accepted his offerings, opened a meal pack, and bit into it right away.

He pulled back the parchment wrapper of the other meal pack and took a bite from the pressed mass of rice and meat.

I lifted the flap of the tent entrance, walked in, then sat down onto a rolled up sleeping pallet inside. Kurai took a place next to me, finishing his dinner.

“Do you want some of my orange?” I asked after finishing my meal pack that made me feel only marginally lesshungry.

“No need to waste it on me.” He uncorked the water bag and took a drink.

“Have you ever tasted an orange?” I asked.

He paused for a moment, as if trying to recall.

“No. I don’t believe I have.”

“Unbelievable.” I shook my head, separating a segment of the fruit. “Here, try it now.”

He let me put the orange in his mouth, then chewed dutifully.

---