15

Reasons

Reven is back to brooding, only maybe more threatening now, because speculation creeps into his gaze far too often. I pin my lips shut and try to make myself as boring and unremarkable as possible.

The rest of the day is spent walking. And then walking some more. The way he strides with purpose and definite direction tells me Reven knows where we’re going. But any effort on my part to get him to give up the plan has been met with heavy silence.

I’ve been trying to sneak peeks around us, looking for anything remotely identifiable to tell me where we are or where we’re going. Beyond the position of the sun telling me we’re headed west, I’ve got nothing.

Maybe he’s taking me to one of the cities that lie in the west. Or maybe he’s just leading me deeper into the forest, where he can cut out my heart and be on his way.

We follow the bank rather than crossing the river, thank goddess. When we stop for dinner, it’s another meal of some kind of bird and those fruit things. But instead of strapping ourselves to a high tree branch for the night, Reven finds us a massive hollow tree trunk, one fire had clearly carved out a long time ago. At his wave, I step inside, then turn immediately to walk right back out.

“No fucking way.”

His scowl is immediate. “Do princesses say that word?”

This one does even if she shouldn’t. “I would rather pull out all my teeth than go in there.”

“That can be arranged, though it might be harder to understand you afterward.” He pauses. “Actually, that might be better for me, so feel free.”

“Let me consult with my advisors.” I glare at him. “They unanimously say no.”

He leans closer and points at the tree. “This is where we’re sleeping.”

Not if I can help it. There’s hardly enough space for the two of us to fit in there, which will mean sleeping wedged up against him. Given my awareness issues where he’s concerned, I just…can’t. “I’ll sleep on one of the limbs.”

He snags me by the arm as I try to walk away, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle. “I can protect us better in here.”

I look at his hand on my arm and then at the tree. “Won’t we be trapped if something comes?”

He shakes his head, and, with a flick of his other hand, shadows close over the entrance, looking like blackened, charred bark.

Oh.

“Death worms are more common in this area of the mountains.” He says this deadpan, and I narrow my eyes. Is he messing with me? Or is he serious? Not worth the risk of finding out the hard way.

Hells and damnation.

Reluctantly, I shake him off and step back inside the carved out trunk, where I sit down, back to the wall formed by the hollow inside. Moonlight finds its way through the hole in the top and through the entrance, though not much. Reven follows, though he has to contort himself a bit to fit, grunting with the effort as he twists to sit beside me, hard and warm and suddenly too real against me.

I knew this was going to be a problem.

I’m not used to being touched, which means I keep trying to subtly contort my body to gain some space.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs. Contained as we are, his voice is all around me, sliding through me.

Gritting my teeth, I force my body to still and do as he says. It doesn’t help much. His warmth spreads through me, his scent—familiar, fresh like the creosus willows that manage to thrive in the deserts—winds around me, and my muscles coil with an unwanted tension.

An odd noise filters in through the “door” of our makeshift shelter, and my eyes spring open, because that sounded like a woman.

“There’s someone out there,” I whisper.

“No.” He shifts like he’s uncomfortable. “Something, not someone.”

Something?

“A harpy eagle,” he clarifies.

There it goes again, louder this time and more distinctive. Then again, breathy, needy.

“Seriously?” slips out of my lips. “That’s what a harpy eagle sounds like?”

His unamused chuckle is in no way comforting. I’d heard harpy eagles sounded like a woman in pleasure when they eat, but not this. Apparently her repertoire includes all aspects of a woman’s voice.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out.

“I think she’s following you,” Reven murmurs.

Me? Oh…like the kirin. Because I’m supposed to be queen, I guess. Except, I’m not. “I doubt it. More like she’s following you for killing that basan.”

Another breathy moan, this one long and drawn out. I’ve lived all my life in a hovel sandwiched between two houses of ill repute. I am well versed in what a woman sounds like in the throes of passion, and this is, remarkably, exactly that.

But I’ve never had to listen to it pressed up against a man before. Especially this one. A new experience I could have happily skipped.

Heat floods my cheeks. I creep my hands up over them, trying to cool my face. Where’s a handy pile of snow when you need one?

Beside me, Reven drops his head back against the tree. “This has been the damnedest journey I’ve ever taken,” he mutters.

A single, sharp laugh sort of huffs from me.

The harpy eagle is going at it hard now. Ecstasy and agony in each long, loud moan. How long does it take to pick bones clean, anyway?

“Tyndra is sinking,” Reven says.

I lower my hands and turn my head, not that I can see the details of his features in the gloom. Which means he can’t really see me, either. He sounds tired, though. “What?”

“The same way Wildernyss is lifting into the sky, Tyndra has started to sink into the oceans. But faster, not over hundreds of years.”

Into the oceans where the worst monsters wait. “What is Eidolon doing about it?”

He shakes his head.

I’m not sure if that means he doesn’t know or he doesn’t want to tell me.

“I have people,” he says instead, voice turning gruffer now. Like he’s embarrassed to reveal that. “People who rely on me.”

He does? I can relate to that. But I don’t want to relate to this man. “Why not go through the proper channels? I could have come on a diplomatic mission.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, I want to pull them back. No queen of Aryd has been to Tyndra in centuries. At least not of her own will.

Reven’s silence tells me he knows this, too.

The harpy eagle decides that’s a perfect moment for a loud, keening moan. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation while a large bird is about to find her completion over a carcass.

“What about the other kings and queens?” My voice sounds tighter.

Another shake of his head. “I want you to see it first.”

Tabra. He means Tabra. Even if it feels like he really means me. In the dark, he sounds younger. Unsure of himself, even. I wish I could see his face better.

“I want you to see the sinking lands and the people who will die if something doesn’t happen soon. Then, I’ll tell you the rest.”

There’s more? But apparently, he doesn’t trust me to believe him. Not only that, but it hits me that he won’t give up on this foolish gambit. Not with people to protect.

I have people to protect, too, though.

“There are whispers about the people of Aryd rising up against their rulers,” I say quietly.

He’s silent a beat, and I wonder if he even cares.

“How bad?”

His question is genuine. Something like relief trickles in. Which is why, instead of retorting with something snappy, I give an honest answer. “I don’t know how organized they are yet. I wouldn’t have heard if not for…”

Hells. I almost said if not for living in Enora.

“But it’s not good,” he says. Not a question. He gets it. I can hear in his voice that he does.

“Not good is one way to put it.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

“I don’t know that, either.” I pause. “I want to help them.”

I’ve spent most of our endless walking processing everything that’s happened since the night I snuck out of the hovel. My grandmother’s death. Cain’s proposal. The way Tabra gazed at Eidolon’s goddess-forsaken amulet. The king’s proposal. Reven.

Our silence is heavy, and at the same time…close.

I need to break this feeling, cut it with a knife or something. As if on cue, the harpy eagle reaches the climax of her show, her feverish calls rapturous.

“I think she’s faking it.”

Reven chokes. “And how would you know?”

I give my best uncaring shrug, though I’m squirming inside. “She’s definitely trying too hard.”

Silence greets that. I’m not sure if I shocked him into it or if he has no comeback. I mean, what could he say?

Unfortunately, it didn’t help break the tension at all. Like Reven did, I drop my head back against the fire-smoothed bark of the tree and close my eyes. Not against the sounds or the night but against him.

I don’t know why Reven was in Enora the night before he kidnapped me. If I thought he’d answer, I’d ask. It’s clear he believes I’m Tabra, soon-to-be Queen of Aryd. But he’d have no reason to search for her in a place like Enora.

The man is a mystery—one I find myself wanting to unravel. Maybe even wanting to believe that he did a horrible thing for a good reason. As a princess who lived under her grandmother’s rule, I saw the hard choices she made on behalf of our dominion. Even if I disagreed with most of them.

The harpy eagle’s serenade eases and slows until quiet settles over the forest.

“Go to sleep, princess,” Reven murmurs. “We’ll get where we’re going tomorrow.”

Trusting Reven is the last thing I should be doing. And yet, as I drift off with the warmth and solidness of his body against mine, a seed of trust takes hold.