Page 72 of The Half King
Daerick squinted at the symbols facing up on the dice. “It seems we’re to travel southwest for twenty clicks.”
“Twenty clicks.” Nero glanced in a direction that Cerise could only presume was southwest. “That won’t be an easy ride. The trail is rough that way.”
“Then let’s make sure we leave as close to dawn as possible,” Kian said. “Everyone, rest well tonight. You’ll need your strength.”
The king’s advice to rest well couldn’t have come at a better time, because it gave Cerise an excuse to ask if anyone had a sleeping draft that they could share with her. Even though the day had been exhausting, falling asleep naturally—and into a deep enough sleep to separate her spirit from her body—might require more time than she had to spare.
“I have Hoya leaf.” Nero frowned. “But that won’t make you sleep. We can look for dream weed…”
“Shiera’s bones, no,” General Petros said. “We’ll all end up in a coma. All she needs is a nip of this.” He retrieved a leather flask from his saddlebag and handed it to her. “Arrowroot syrup. My woman at the temple makes it.” He lifted a finger. “It works fast, though, so wait until you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now,” Cerise told him. She took the flask from General Petros and thanked him by covering his scarred knuckles with one hand.
“Sleep well, my girl,” the general said.
As he had promised, the syrup did its job.
Cerise drank a mouthful of the tonic, and by the time she had finished the other half of her oatcake and a few more bites of jackrabbit, her vision blurred and her dinner plate tilted out of her hand. Fortunately, Blue was there to rescue the meat before it hit the ground. He licked his chops and peered at Cerise for more, and all of a sudden, the sight of his round, black eyes stirred so much emotion inside her that a tear spilled free.
“I love you,” she said to Blue. She gathered her enormous pup into her arms and hugged him close, only releasing him when her muscles went slack and allowed him to wriggle free. Then she glanced at Daerick and told him she loved him, too. Daerick snorted a laugh, but she didn’t care. One by one, she peered around the group with misty eyes, starting with Kian, the dark and sultry king who captivated her with his bottomless gaze; then General Petros, the warrior with a tender heart; and finally, Nero, brave and strong. They had all carved out a permanent place in her heart.
“I’ll feed Blue,” Daerick offered, nodding at the tents. “Go ahead and hit the blankets, lover girl.”
Cerise tried to stand up too quickly, and the world slanted on its axis. Kian was already there to grip her elbow and guide her to her tent. Once they made it through the canvas flaps, he made a motion to lay her down on the blanket pallet, but she resisted and pointed at a bundle of oversize clothes that she had previously set on the floor.
“First help me put those on,” she slurred.
Kian tilted his head in confusion. “You want to change into those clothes?”
“No, put them o-ver,” she mumbled.
“Over the clothes you already have on?” Kian asked.
“Mmm-hmm. I’ll…’splain…later.”
He humored her without argument. Her dizziness made her clumsy, so it took several minutes for him to dress her in the extra layers. When the task was complete, he helped lower her body onto the blanket pallet, and then he cradled the back of her head as she lay on a pillow that she could have sworn hadn’t been there before. At once, her body melded with the soft linens, and she couldn’t tell herself apart from the bedding.
Kian propped himself up on one elbow beside her, his mouth sliding into a crooked grin. “My lady of the temple, you’re painfully adorable when you’re drunk.”
The canvas roof spun, and Cerise had to shut her eyes to make it stop. Once closed, her eyelids didn’t want to reopen. She sank deeper and deeper into a basin of warmth. Soon, her senses went blank and there was nothing.
She didn’t know how much time passed before her awareness returned. When she became conscious again, she found herself sitting cross-legged at the foot of her sleeping body, much like she had done the previous evening. She was sober now, and mortified to see how ridiculous she looked passed out with one pant leg covering her sandal, both shirts twisted high around her torso. Kian didn’t seem to mind. Still grinning, he moved his gaze over her face with a tenderness she had come to cherish more than her next breath.
Kian skimmed a delicate finger along her lower lip, and then his hand curled into a smoky shadow that quickly claimed the rest of him. The same dark portal appeared behind him, and in a blink, he stood on the other side of it, colorless, naked, fully formed, and peering into the tent as if looking for her. She knew she was invisible to him when his eyes passed twice over her dreaming form. He couldn’t see her until she stepped through the portal and joined him. Then, in amazement, he volleyed his gaze back and forth between her two forms until the portal closed.
“I can’t believe it,” he murmured in awe. “There are two of you.”
“I think there’s only one of me,” she said. “I’m just divided. What you see in the tent is my mortal form. Until I come back to it, my body is like a glove without a hand. But this part of me,” she added, palming her chest, “seems to be my spirit.”
Kian skimmed a thumb along the outer curve of her neck and raised chills on her skin. “Then how are you solid?”
“Everyone here is solid,” she pointed out. “And all of them except for you have been dead for a long time, so they’re spirits.”
“That’s true,” Kian said. “Still, I’ve never seen anyone divide themselves in half, except once at an extremely unfortunate joust that I wish I hadn’t attended. You’ve accomplished something impressive, my lady of the temple.”
“Not as impressive as when you turn to shadow,” she said. “That’s an incredible thing to watch.”
“You still win.” He nodded at her layers. “You get to keep your clothes.”
