Page 19 of The Stolen Throne
Reven’s not going to wait much longer. I can tell that much.
“Let’s wait in the shade,” he says.
With deft movements, he sets up a long piece of cloth, using one of the horse’s saddles as an anchor and two telescoping sticks to create essentially what is a miniature tent.
I clear my throat. “That’s a Wanderer trick.”
“I know.”
Right. Because he learned it from them like I did. “Did you know most of Nova’s math system came from them?”
Oh goddess. What am I talking about? Math systems?
Rather than answering, he beckons me over.
We lean back-to-back. Also a Wanderer trick. In the distance, a telltale undulation of the land catches my eye. I squint at it a second to be sure. “Do you see that?”
He shifts against me to look. Then another grunt—interest or acknowledgment, I’m not sure which.
“It’s a terravore. They can move entire dunes.” As we watch, the huge underground creature makes an appearance, the sands parting way for a dark, leathery beast that arches its shovel-shaped head into the skies on a trumpet of sound we can hear from here. Triumph or warning, it’s a coin toss which.
“I know.”
Okay then. “Then you know that if they don’t bury you alive, they eat you.” The terravore in the distance burrows back into the ground with every appearance of glee. “But don’t worry. It’s too far away.”
“I’ve encountered one already.”
My jaw drops, and I’m glad he’s behind me and can’t see. “You have?” Lucky. I’ve only seen them far away, their massive bodies churning the land like ocean waves.
“It didn’t end well for the terravore. Or the platoon of Eidolon’s men in the area.”
“Oh.” There’s a lot to unpack in his answer. I want to ask more questions, but a growing bout of shyness stays my tongue. I mull over why that is.
It doesn’t take much mulling.
A thousand doubts built up inside me during my time as the king’s captive prize in the palace. Months to wonder if what Reven and I had was real, or just in the moment, or a reaction to the pressure we were under, or worse…it was more real for me than it was for him.
I gave myself to this man. Body and soul. And have dreamt of him every night since. I can still feel his touch, his lips, hear his voice… I try not to squirm, but now I’m picturing the way he touched me, the way he looked at me. Like I was something precious.
Other than that kiss in my chambers—which I’m starting to think might’ve simply been a result of relief—his behavior this night has been confusing. Distant in a way that is tying knots of unease in my gut.
Maybe I should tell him I missed him? Because I did. It’s all been so fast between us, but that’s the truth. I missed him.
But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?
Awkward does not even begin to cover how I’m feeling now. “So,” I try, sifting my fingers through the sand. “What did you spend your time in my desert doing?”
After a beat of silence, he huffs a laugh. “Your time in the palace has reduced you to small talk.”
I mean, what else should I say? Hey, remember that time you made me come apart in your arms right before everything exploded around us? Any thoughts? What do I call you? My boyfriend? My lover?
Forget that. It’s awful, even in my head.
“You’re not exactly giving me much to work with,” I grumble.
“Of the two of us, I’m not the talker.” His voice is so dry I can’t help but chuckle.
“I missed your kind of not talking these past months.” The words are out as they come to me, before I can think them through, and I bite my lip.
