Tell him why you don’t drink.
Colin keeps talking big. Eogan keeps liquefying my insides with his questioning eyes until I’m nothing more than a pool for drowning in.
Tell him why.
Fine. “I killed the sons of owner nine.”
Colin stops midsentence.
I can’t look at either of them.
Just hurry through. “The two of them thought it’d be fun to get me drunk one night. They were laughing and getting chummy with their hands, and when I tried to scream, they discovered the drink had incapacitated my voice. And then not just my voice, but my body. Apparently, drink saps what little control I have and paralyzes me. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t fight.” I stand, trembling at the memory as much as my blatant confession. “Before they could do anything . . .”
I pick up my satchel. “My hailstorm tore them limb from limb.” I walk away without giving either of them a chance to respond.
CHAPTER 17
I’M JUST REPACKING MY THINGS WHEN THE HORSES slip back to us like ghosts from the dark. Haven’s chewing on what appears to be a deer bone. I demand she drop it before Eogan saddles her up. She whimpers and tries to wipe her bloodstained mouth on me. I sigh and push her off, muttering, “You and I are a perfect pair.”
We ride along the side paths rather than the main road, keeping to the moonlit trails as we begin climbing the cascading southern foothills covered in firefly trees. The trees are starting in with their evening glimmer. I slow Haven, waiting to take in the brilliance. The only place in the five kingdoms they exist, and I’ve never gotten used to their magnificence.
The firefly lights flicker. Then flash brighter.
I hold my breath as the moon slips behind a cloud.
“What the—?” Colin whispers, and the forest surrounding us erupts in pure, color-lit splendor.
“Teeth of a naked ferret-cat,” he mutters. And even Haven seems impressed. She prances, head high, through terrameter after terrameter of trees filled with fireflies blinking their tiny lights of purple, orange, pink, blue. It’s the bugs’ mating season, and they’re bragging their most exquisite displays, fluttering among the overhead branches and breezes. We pass beneath in silence, soaking it in without disturbing their dance.
It’s an hour later when the performance is finished and we emerge from the trees. The foothill path we’re on becomes steeper and cloaked in night’s dark shroud. Twice I catch Colin dozing off. I prod his arm to keep him from falling forward and garnering his horse’s meat-loving interest.
He mumbles and says something about tying himself to the beast, then begins to snore. Eogan falls back to tie Colin down, keeping one hand on Colin’s reins as the animals work to keep their nimble feet steady.
The dark deepens until it’s hard to see farther than Haven’s head. When my own eyes lull, I stretch my neck and let the cold air seep through my cloak collar. I need something to keep me conscious.
I glance in Eogan’s direction. “Where are you from?”
I can’t see his face, but I hear his breathing change as if he’s surprised I’m awake. “Faelen.”
“Before Faelen.”
Silence.
“Who said I’ve lived anywhere else?” he says after a minute.
“You speak like the upper class and work with them, despite the fact you hate them.”
His reply is a soft chuckle through the dark. “Perceptive.”
“So?”
“Does it matter? I came as a wanderer like the rest.”
“But you’re not the rest. You block powers. You know how to train Uathúils. You understand war.”
“Things easily learned in life when one pays attention.”
“Liar.” In fact, something tells me that whoever he was in his former life, he’s now either desperately hated or dearly missed for those talents. “Have you ever been to Drust?”
“You’re full of questions tonight.” His tone drops. “Why are you asking?”
“Call it curiosity. I’m trying to stay awake.”
“There are more interesting ways to stay awake, believe me. Perhaps Colin and his irresistibility could teach you a few,” he mutters. Then, after a pause, he says, “But yes, I’ve been to Drust.”
“Have you ever met Draewulf?”
“Have you ever considered you’re not the only one who doesn’t enjoy discussing the past?”
“So that’s a yes on Draewulf?”
“That’s a what in hulls are you getting at, Nymia?”
My mouth falls open. I’ve never heard him use my full name like that. And even though he’s saying it in annoyance, for some reason it makes my stomach flutter. I peer through the blackness, wishing I could see his expression. “I’m not sure. I just want to know who you are.”
“You know who I am,” he murmurs. “At least, anything worth knowing.”
My breathing skips. Do I? “How long have you been with Adora?”
“Three years.”
“How’d you start?”