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"Thraild runs for thirty leagues, collecting runoff and fed by five smaller rivers and countless streams till it dumps into the Saevalde River in Kadobria," Kenneth provided as Sammie followed behind him on the game trail that skirted the river. They'd been hiking since early morning through the woods south of Signet, taking advantage of the rare warm day in late fall. Sammie had been a little uncomfortable in the trousers Kenneth had insisted she wore, until they'd gotten into the thick, unbroken brush, where she'd been grateful for the close-fitting clothing. They'd come out of the green to an animal trail by the river and followed it for over an hour.
Sammie's stomach let out a fierce growl, and she moaned. "Kenneth, my feet hurt, and I'm wasting away from hunger!" she complained, dismayed that Kenneth hadn't brought any food with them. "The river is really nice, particularly when it's warm enough to swim, but we've been here before. Why did we have to get up at five in the morning just to hike out here? And why didn't we take the road? It would have been faster."
"Yes, we would have reached the river faster," he agreed, looking back at her. "But the west road would have placed us many leagues from our destination."
"Which is?" She looked up and down the river, unimpressed. She liked walking with Kenneth, and she loved his educational narrative, but she didn't see anything special about this section of the Thraild.
"Notice anything about the water?"
Sammie sighed and shook her head, staring at the flowing curtain of murky water. "No. Not really," she answered wearily. "It looks maybe a little muddier here."
"Does it seem faster?"
Sammie frowned and looked across to the other bank fifteen yards away, comparing the speed of the flow to the land. "Yeah," she admitted, her curiosity piqued. "It does. Why's that?"
"Do you hear it yet?"
Sammie glared at Kenneth, who'd turned to walk backwards on the trail while talking to her. "Hear what? Stop being so mysterious!"
Kenneth lifted a finger to his lips to quiet her, and Sammie sighed again, listening. She stopped walking and closed her eyes. She did hear something. It was like a strong wind, or a heavy rain. "What . . . what is that?" When she opened her eyes, Kenneth was grinning broadly at her. Sammie laughed, returning the smile. "Wow. You're in really good spirits today, aren't you?" She so rarely saw such a broad smile on his face, and she couldn't be the least bit upset.
He nodded. "We're nearly there. We can eat then."
"But—"
Kenneth shook his head. "You'll see," he insisted. "I've been coming here for years, though it takes me quite a bit less time when I'm alone."
Sammie stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed, turning forward again. Sammie stared at his back and bit her lip. Her weary irritation had disappeared, consumed by uncertain excitement. Kenneth had been smiling and jovial all day, but she'd been too tired to notice. His unexpected mirth was now tying knots in her stomach. Why was she suddenly so nervous?
The noise Kenneth had pointed out grew louder and louder, and every time she looked at the river, she was certain it was flowing faster. Soon, what had begun as a whisper was a constant and intimidating roar that muted everything. The path cut away from the river, and Sammie followed Kenneth in silence, not wanting to shout over the din. Kenneth fell in step with her to hold her hand when the trail sloped steeply downward for several hundred paces. Once the path leveled out again, it cut back toward the river, and the noise was so loud that Sammie could feel it echoing in her chest. Mist collected in pockets here and there in the trees, and Sammie kept hold of Kenneth's hand, feeling nervous about the strangeness of the forest.
When the tree line broke at the river, Kenneth paused and stepped behind her so that she could see what lay ahead. She gasped and took a quick step back, bumping into him. Just twenty paces away, the river fell from a high cliff into a deep, brown basin before flowing onward, white from rapids. Sammie gaped openly at the awesome natural display.
"Nyseen Falls, on the Thraild river four leagues south of Signet, is a staggering one hundred foot sheer drop to the twenty feet deep Nyseen Basin," Kenneth spoke loudly into her ear, his hands bracing her shoulders.
Sammie swallowed, and turned to look at him, still awed. She licked her lips and nodded. "It's beautiful," she shouted back. "It's . . . it's really loud."
He smiled and nodded, then pointed to a patch of grass near a calmer corner of the basin. A large wicker basket sat in the center of a spread blanket.
Sammie grinned. "When did you do that?"
He took her hand and led the way. "This morning, before we left," he called back to her.
She dropped down on the slightly damp blanket and laughed. "How? We've been hiking for five hours!" She reached for the basket, but he shook his head. She shrugged and laid back on her elbows, looking up at the bright sky through the near-naked boughs of the trees while he opened the basket.
"I flew," he answered. Of course. How else would he have gotten there and back before the hike?
She sat up again and watched him spread out a meal of fresh fruit, sweet rolls, sliced cheese and beef, and sugared biscuits. She shook her head in amazement, touched that he'd gone through so much effort for her. "How long does it take to fly here from Signet?"
He smirked at her. "That's why I get here faster alone."
She laughed brightly and accepted a sweet roll he'd stuffed with beef and cheese."It's amazing, Kenneth, but I'm not looking forward to the hike back."
Kenneth's eyes twinkled with mirth, and Sammie paused, the roll partially lifted to her mouth. After a moment, she realized what he wasn't saying and sat forward, her food forgotten. "Really?" she shrieked. He nodded, and she squealed, throwing her arms around him in spite of the awkward angle of the embrace. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!"
* * *
Kenneth hefted Sammie's weight in his arms. "Stop squirming," he ordered. "I've never carried anyone before. I might drop you."
Sammie squealed at the frightening prospect and clutched his neck harder, going rigid. The climb up the waterfall had been nerve wracking, even with Kenneth directly behind her calling up hand and foot holds. By the time they'd reached the summit, she was so weak and shaking so violently that she could barely stand. Kenneth had sensed her fear and wrapped his arms and wings around her. She'd felt warm and safe, and the two of them had watched the rushing water fall away until her shaking had subsided. The moment Kenneth had her lifted into his arms, though, she was shuddering again. She was trying to be brave, but dangling over the roaring rapids a hundred feet below struck her with raw terror.
Kenneth waited until she had calmed and relaxed herself. Sammie had been begging Kenneth to take her flying since just after they'd met, and he'd informed her that he could carry half again his weight. She'd thought it would be exciting and fun, but now that she was faced with the prospect, she couldn't get past the fear.
"Ready?" he shouted over the falls.
At her uncertain nod, he dove from the stone precipice. She squealed again and clung to his neck. When the sensation of falling ebbed and the wind's bellow replaced the roar of the water, she forced her eyes open. Above her, Kenneth's seven-foot red wings arched high and wide like vibrant sails rooted between his shoulders. Their shape was like no other fae she'd seen, rising to a point but falling to an odd box shape. His lesser white wings, sprouting from the small of his back, stretched outward and down toward his feet, forming a half circle. As far as she knew he was the only fae with a second set of lower wings, yet they seemed so perfectly suited for stabilizing him that she wondered for a moment why more fae didn't have them. She smiled, watching the velvet-like hair on his wings ripple like waves of grain in the wind.
"Look down, you're missing it," Kenneth said, waking her from her reverie.
"We're even higher!" she gasped. "Wow! Look at the river glistening!" In many places the river Kenneth followed reflected the sky, in others it churned white or dropped in curtains down shelves of stone. Her gaze danced over the landscape, admiring the complex layers of the foliage and the perfect rows of harvested soil. "Amazing! So beautiful!" she exclaimed, mesmerized by intricate aspects of the landscape that seemed so small from where they flew. "Why don't you fly more often? I would never walk, ever, if I had wings!"
"I could be felled," he answered, banking sharply to turn them more northerly.
Sammie's stomach clenched from the movement and from the terrible image of Kenneth plummeting from the sky, an arrow struck through his chest. "Who would do that?" she asked, horrified. She unconsciously began looking around for hidden archers or spellcrafters.
Kenneth gripped her to steady her weight, then beat both wings in opposition, lifting them higher still. "A lot of humans don't trust fae around these parts," he answered, slightly breathless from the exertion. "I could be mistaken for a spy by the locals or by the sorcerers." He set his wings to glide again, banking slightly right, then leveling out. "Sorcerers are actually known to attack fae on sight."
"Why?" Sammie had begun trying to pick out landmarks, suddenly anxious to land. She felt open, vulnerable and naked against the sky.
"I'm not sure. I think a fae can't be a sorcerer. I think we're too different, our magic is too deeply rooted in the energies of nature."
Sammie shook her head. She didn't want to think about Kenneth falling to his death, or sorcerers throwing bolts of black energy at them. She wanted to feel how she had a moment before, when she and Kenneth were alone in the heavens. She shuddered and changed the subject. "I thought you said the world was round," she declared. "It looks flat to me."
He laughed. "You know the world is round. I showed you maps that prove it." He shook his head. "We are far too near Midia to truly see it." His easy, informative tone quickly calmed her, and she smiled. "The curvature of the planet is what causes larger maps to be so inaccurate," he continued. "The further one point is from another, the less a flat map can accommodate the curve of the land."
Sammie laughed, letting her fear melt away as the previous giddy excitement of their flight stole over her again. "Is there nothing you don't know?"
Kenneth's silence drew her gaze, and she quirked a brow at his serious and flushed expression. After a long silence, he hesitantly answered, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "There is much I do not know." He frowned slightly. "I don't often speak about the uncertainties in my life." Sammie shifted so it was not so difficult to look up at him, and waited for him to continue. "I do not know my parents, or who they are . . . or were. I do not know where I came from, or why I am so different, even from other fae. I don't understand why I seem to know so many things that I never learned. Or rather, that I don't remember learning." Kenneth's frown deepened. "I do not know who I am, or why my mind functions in the odd way that it does."
Sammie thought about the day Kenneth told her he had come across languages that he knew without learning them. She thought of his math, so complex it was a magic all its own. She pulled herself higher and kissed the lower corner of his cheek. "I know who you are," she responded to his desolate remarks. She was rewarded with the same odd and suspicious expression he always gave her when she was too forward.
She'd fallen in love with that expression on the very first day they'd met. Since then, she'd constantly sought to earn it. Kenneth always seemed so unimpressed with the world, she reveled in earning his surprise and wonder. "You are Kenneth Greywolf, adopted son of Greygor Greywolf. You are loved, respected, and honored by the general of the human territories, and a very smart and crafty warrior. You are handsome, kind, and my closest friend."
Kenneth's gaze shifted back to the horizon, and Sammie wondered if the deepening red in his cheeks was from the wind or a blush of embarrassment. "Thank you," he replied awkwardly.
"I think about you leading your father's men against the dark lord . . ." she continued, her stomach clenching at what she was about to say. She had always wanted to speak to him about her secret feelings, but he'd seemed so inaccessible. This day felt different. He was different. "And I am filled with such pride . . . and such fear that I can't sleep." She smiled nervously when his eyes shifted to hers. "I think about you in danger . . . and I can't breathe."
He watched her with an unreadable gaze, and Sammie was suddenly more frightened than when they'd leapt from the waterfall. Her words could ruin her relationship with Kenneth, but she had waited for nearly two years. She couldn't bear another two years of praying that he would suddenly feel as she did. Every day he told her of the wonders of Midia, but he couldn't see the world around him. He couldn't see her. She needed him to see her.
"I know there's nothing I could do to make you stay behind." She eased her farthest hand from around his neck to touch his warm cheek. "Nor would I want you to give up your honor and duty for me, anyway." She took a deep breath and smiled, wishing she could understand the odd, confused expression in his eyes. "The best I can do is try to give you something worth fighting for . . . and worth coming home to."
Kenneth frowned, breaking her gaze to look out at the horizon again. "What are you saying?"
Sammie buried her fingers in his hair and pulled herself up, kissing his lips deeply. At first he went rigid with surprise, but then pulled her close and returned the kiss with surprising abandon and passion. When she drew away, she was breathless and hot in spite of the biting gusts. She stared hopefully into his eyes, encouraged by the expression of amazement and revelation on his face. After a moment of silence, she asked "Well?" She chuckled nervously. "Anything to say in return? I just told you that I—"
He drew her close to kiss her again, and she laughed softly against his lips, relief washing over her. When they parted again, she glowed at the crooked grin on his face. "You have to say something!" she demanded. "I don't know where this leaves us, Kenneth!"
He nodded in agreement. "We should marry."
"What?" She threw her head back and laughed, her heart pounding with joy. Though it was abrupt and awkward, his proposal was every bit what she should have expected—certain, reasonable, and odd. "That's it? Just like that?" She shook her head and hugged him close to her. "Oh well! We finally found something you're not good at. Romance!"