Page 39 of Ember and Eclipse
She could still feel his hand hovering over her marked skin, as if he yearned to trace the scars, to offer her some comfort. Closing her eyes, she willed him to do so. The need was a sudden burning thing beneath her skin that was unexplainable.
But he wouldn’t touch her.
And she wouldn’t ask him to.
Devdan took much longer to return from his time in the hot springs, but she was grateful for the solitude. He had built the fire up, at least, and Friend was happily grazing.
Just when she thought he had been gone for a little too long, he appeared. He looked fresh, but there was a hardness in his eyes when they met hers.
Having had enough of his company for a night, she stood up. But at that exact moment, the lilting notes of music reached them. Both paused, listening.
“Cantoros—the traveling city. They’re camped miles away, but the wind must have sent their music this way,” Devdan said quietly, as if the music were a holy thing not to be disturbed.
“They’re not afraid of drawing attention to themselves?”
Devdan shrugged. “Even if they did, though most are artists and they believe in leading an easy and soft life, they have plenty of warriors to protect that way of living.”
“It’s beautiful.” Rel closed her eyes, swaying gently. Magic must be woven into their music. The melody was soft and beckoning. She was filled with visions of stars falling into sapphire oceans—transported outside of herself. Connected to every note, her heart strummed its own tune in rhythm with the song. Existing solely in that moment and infinite, she filled an expanse far beyond herself.
“Beautiful, yes,” he said after a time.
The music faded again, the wind shifting it away.
When she opened her eyes, she found Devdan studying her. Head tilted, lips set in a hard line, a crease in his brow. He was assessing her in some way. The sudden feeling of beingseenwashed over her, like he had taken more than she ever intended to give.
“I’m going to sleep,” she announced, and she knew his eyes followed her all the way to the sleeping mat.
Chapter XXIII
RelwascertainFriendhad slowed down his usual pace. They seemingly covered less distance with each passing day, but she wasn’t about to mention that. Devdan had become more reserved again, and they hadn’t spoken since the hot springs three nights ago. She’d catch him looking at her sometimes, deep in thought, and she wanted to know what he was contemplating but bit her tongue.
The nights were the most difficult. They had become so cold that even Veritas didn’t work for long. Rel took to sleeping on her stomach, with her arms beneath her and her face tucked away into the hood of her cloak. If she got any closer to the fire, she was likely to set herself ablaze.
Groggily opening her eyes as she adjusted her position, she thought she heard rocks shifting. Visions of creeping malwoves filled her with a quickening fear. She slowly lifted her head, her eyes taking a long moment to adjust to the surrounding night. Shadows moved and took the shape of furred beasts.
She gasped, reactively reaching for a knife that wasn’t there.
When she sought out Devdan, he was already awake and on his feet in an instant, a glint of a dagger being pulled from its sheath. Rel scrambled out of the confinements of her blanket and cloak, getting on her feet just as the creatures stepped closer.
But they weren’t animals. They were four men dressed in furs.
“You picked the wrong camp, Monsos,” Devdan said.
Monsos—the people who occupied the mountains of Heigar’s Pass.
One of them grunted, lifting a large hand to flex what looked like sharpened bones attached to all of his fingers.
“Romulan shitstain,” he spat in disgust. The accent was thick and guttural, the words running together.
A sound from behind signaled that there were more closing in around them. Devdan marked them with a tilt of his head as he took a step closer to her.
She did the same, inching toward him as she turned to face those behind her. There were only two that she could see, but both were similarly armed with animal teeth and claws attached to them. They grinned at her with badly stained teeth sharpened into unnatural points.
“Give me a knife,” she murmured to Devdan.
But a laughing Monsos caught their attention as he stepped away from the group toward Friend.
“Touch my horse,” Devdan warned, “and you’ll be the first to die.”
