Page 150 of A Touch of Poison
He eyed me—or rather,themsidelong. “They’re very… distracting.”
The fluttering inside me warmed, and his attention flushed my cheeks. I lifted my chin like I wasn’t affected. “That sounds like ayouproblem rather than a me problem.”
But I swallowed and had to turn my head to hide my smile. Perhaps I was brave enough to ask. And perhaps it would go well—maybevery well indeed.
* * *
Ella must’ve hadthe same idea. Bastian and I reached our first stop at the edge of a small town that reminded me of Innesol, and when I rummaged in the bottom of my bag, I found one of the lacy nightgowns from Lunden. Ella had been fussing with my bag as we’d said goodbye and must’ve snuck it in. I laughed to myself and threw it back inside.
Over the following days, we rode west, then north into the foothills, and as the weather grew colder, things between us grew warmer. We talked about our work, the city, the circle of friends that had built around us. We talked a little about his childhood, and I burned for how he’d been bullied. I shared my own stories, and noted how he squeezed the reins when I told him about my father’s aggression, even though Avice had borne the brunt of it.
On the third night, as we sat in the private sitting room of our inn suite, sharing a bottle of wine, I even told him about Fantôme and what had happened after. The grave my uncle had dug. Dia’s body already in it. The way he’d made me lie there, burying me a little more each time I moved.
Things between us were whole now, and it felt like the right moment to share it, and he was the right person to share it with.
It was the first time I’d described the experience out loud, and I didn’t get through without tears. But in solid silence, he held me through them, and when I tugged on my necklace, suddenly hating having anything near my neck, he removed it and placed his orrery in my hand.
With that, I got through the whole story and felt a little less broken for it. Maybe his hobby applied to things outside his workroom.
The next day, we rode through a wide, dry mountain pass. Shrubs and grass poked through the recent light snowfall, and at first glance I thought brown shrubby trees grew in the distance. Then they moved.
Bastian didn’t seem concerned by the creatures—didn’t even mention them—and as we got closer, I picked out their sloped backs and long tusks. “Mammoths,” I breathed, the word steaming into the air. I’d read about them and seen pictures in books, but I never dreamed I’d see one.
“Our lands were once connected to the mainland by ice. When it retreated, they were stranded. My people were here; they remember.”
I watched as we rode closer. They moved in a herd, with fur varying from reddish brown to almost black. Two animals—a smaller adult and a calf—had lighter brown coats.
I pressed my hand to my chest, which suddenly felt very full. “Were humans here then, or hadn’t we yet arrived?”
“You had, though I’m not sure you had writing to record it. Eventually, you hunted most of the mammoths on the island to extinction. Remote populations like this one survived.”
“To extinction?” I frowned at the creatures as they used their trunks to tear up clumps of grass and place them in their mouths. “That was short-sighted. If they’d limited their hunting, they would’ve still had more to hunt in the years to come—for their children and grandchildren.”
He snorted and lifted a shoulder. “I’m not going to argue with that. But I suppose only living a short life makes you not consider much beyond its end.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Whereas fae aresofar-sighted.”
This time he laughed fully. “No. Not at all. I take it back—it’s nothing to do with how long the life is. People just want something that will benefit themnowrather than enduring the pain of wanting.”
That made me huff out a breath.The pain of wanting.
Stars above was that a pain I knew well.
It was an endurance sport we’d grown good at. I returned my gaze to the mammoths. “Not everyone.”
“No,” he murmured, “not everyone.”
We didn’t speak much more for the rest of the afternoon, and we found a sleepy village with an inn at the base of the next mountain pass. Tomorrow would take us up into the pass and to the lake.
Polite chit-chat punctuated dinner in our two room suite, and I felt like my chest might explode with all the things I didn’t know how to say. But I piled roast chicken and crispy potatoes on top of those unspoken words and swallowed them all down, finished with a slab of gooey chocolate cake.
I might not be able to speak about my feelings, but I could damn well eat them.
58
Kat
The next day we rode up into thick snow. Vespera would’ve huffed about the cold and kept her head hunched low. The stags weren’t so bothered, but despite my poison, part of me wished she was here. Bastian seemed unaffected.
