Page 51 of Royal Hunt
“So you can do big magick, huh?” I brushed a dark curl out of his eyes, frowning when I noticed how hot his skin felt. “If you could not kill yourself while doing it, that would be great.”
If what Viana said earlier was true, he’d gone his whole life being judged and tormented by visions of things no one understood. When he’d tried to seek help, it sounded like he was turned away.
How horrible.
A sudden realization burst into my mind like a flame catching from an ember. Was that why he drank? Was that why he lived away from his family? Was it all simply a way of . . . coping?
I stared down at him like I was seeing him for the first time. No wonder he was all bravado and sneers. It was likely a mask he wore to keep anyone from seeing how sad and lonely he was underneath it all.
You’re not going to fall in love with him, for crying out loud.
I mentally smacked myself. Mistaking sympathy and pity for love was something I’d seen often enough back at the manor. Stable boys frequently knew a sob story and puppy face were enough to catch them a tumble with a servant girl thick enough to fall for it.
But the situations weren’t the same, were they?
I didn’t want to think about it any longer. I was exhausted, and who knew how many hours we had until the sun rose on the next game. I opened up the furs, and snuggled in next to Ellis. He was scorching hot. Perhaps my cold skin could cool him, and we’d help each other.
I draped my arms across his stomach, and buried my head into his side.
Hopefully we survived tomorrow.
Seventeen
The next day, absolutely nothing happened. Cassus didn’t boom out directions, and there were no crowds. The sky stayed a crisp blue, almost cheerful with the small cirrus clouds that dotted the heavens here and there.
It was infuriating.
Ellis slept. And slept.
“What the fuck are they playing at?” Mixen grumbled, sharpening his sword while Pari made some sort of hard tack over the fire using a bit of wheat, and some plants she’d gathered from the inside of our pen. She claimed it should last us each a couple days if we were careful.
“It means there’s a night frenzy coming,” Pari replied casually, spreading the hard, unappealing dough out to cook on the front of a piece of armor over the fire.
“And that is?” Viana asked, biting into her last apple.
Pari sighed. “Night frenzy. No game during the day, but tonight will be rough. The barrier will lower in the middle. Both sides can cross without scruples. They’ll try to kill as many as they can tonight.”
I reared back, horrified. The fae were terrifying enough in the daylight! But in the dark? We’d all be massacred!
“I’m working on a plan,” Pari continued, turning the tack slightly as it cooked. An unappetizing bubble belched from the center of the dough. If you could call the brown and black mess dough.
“This I want to hear,” Nessian commented sarcastically.
Lyra smacked him on his shoulder, and he shot her apologetic look.
“Not to me, to Pari,” Lyra corrected.
Lily piped in as well. “She’s done a lot for us. We could show more respect.”
The men around the fire bristled in indignation. I kept quiet about the bruise around my throat Pari had given me last night, and no one had asked about it. I agreed we needed to stay unified if we had any chance of surviving this thing.
Pari rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother. Wouldn’t want your ego breaking in front of me.” She picked up the tack, which now resembled a piece of sheetrock, flat and hard. Pari broke it into small pieces, offering it up. “Want to try?”
Mixen wrinkled his nose, scowling. I reached a hand out, and so did Viana, Lyra, and Lily. Nessian eyed it warily, but accepted some.
“Don’t try it now. Save it until you’re hungry.”
We tucked away our respective pieces, each likely wondering if it even mattered. As if a small bit of wheat, mud, and plants would save us? It was laughable.
