He laughs and for a second it sounds so nice. Normal. Until it turns into a coughing spasm.
I flinch and whisper up a draft of air to ease his discomfort, while the awareness of Eogan listening to us makes my guilt spike higher. I can feel it—the still-liquefied part of my bones that echoes his kiss, blending with my craving and anger—even as I’m picturing Adora cutting out Colin’s tongue when she finds out about it. My aching hand flutters to my mouth, and I press Haven to hurry ahead.
We’ve ridden for four hours before my muddled head registers that we’re on a different path than the one we travelled up on. Eogan’s got us on a sideways route instead of straight down through the town of the little boy and his mum. I consider thanking him but that would require speaking to him.
At dinnertime, we stop and eat. Eogan releases the horses and tells us to sleep a few hours for Colin’s sake. I don’t though. I just stare at the fevered boy and wrestle with the knowledge that I hurt people. I hurt him. Because of me, Adora could hurt him more. Because of me, Lord Myles could hurt Eogan. And because of Eogan, I could hurt a whole host of others at his whim or because of my temper. I’m like a death knell for everyone who gets near me.
I slide my hand over my sleeve, feeling the memorial scars beneath as something twisted in me itches to create another. My fingers reach for the handle of my knife, its cold steel burning into my skin like the guilt smoldering over the well-worn scars in my soul.
Eogan shifts and my eyes connect with his. As if he knows precisely what I’m thinking.
He opens his mouth, but I turn over to stare at the firefly trees blazing off in the distance. After that it’s silent for a long while.
When his low voice comes, it’s controlled concern—but it rumbles all the way down to my bones. “You are not the things you’ve done, Nym.”
I shut my eyes.
“You’re worth more,” he adds, but by the time it registers, his murmur is already dissipating.
When the moon hits midnight, we get up and Eogan ties Colin on behind him. I hook the other mount’s reins to mine and am relieved to leave the mountain range behind.
“Nym.” Eogan’s rich voice carries through the dark.
“I don’t want to talk about it, please,” I whisper.
So we ride through the night in silence except for Eogan’s soft breathing beside me and Colin’s muttering hallucinations.
Eventually, morning light shivers and splashes like paint on a canvas over the landscape in front of us. Outlines of villages come into view, followed by farms and smokehouses with cocks crowing and dogs barking to the noisy cries of children.
Colin stirs and Eogan stretches in his seat. “We’ll stop on the outskirts of the next town and chain up the horses.” His gaze avoids mine. “Then find a common house to eat at.”
But at the next village, the outskirts have been taken over by a patchwork of blue and red tents and yellow-painted wagons with streamers flapping high above in the wind. For a moment I wonder if it’s already main market day, but then I catch sight of a ten-foot-tall man swallowing a sword as he dances.
Colin chuckles. “It’s a carnival.” And for the first time in two days, I feel a smile surface. Not just a carnival—it’s a traveller carnival.
Dogs race around the wagons, barking at panther-monkeys whose enormous bodies jump from roof to roof, dangling corkscrew tails to lure the hounds closer. Each time one’s within reach, long panther talons flash out and the dogs jump away, making a game of it. Grab and hiss, grab and hiss—the monkeys keep it up, hoping for their favorite meal of fresh canine brains.
A tiny girl dressed in a pinwheel of colors stands below, shaking her finger and lecturing the disgusting monkeys, although it’s hard to hear what she’s saying amid the racket of breakfast pots, stakes being hammered, and voices shouting in thick foreign accents. Somewhere an oliphant roars, sending vibrations through the ground just as two ferret-cats race by and duck beneath a cart covered in murals. When I look up, an old woman is watching us from inside. She glares and yanks the curtain shut.
“On second thought, we’ll break at the next town.” Eogan nudges his horse to keep moving.
But the ten-foot-tall man has already caught sight of us. He struts closer before bending down to unbuckle loops at his thighs. He jumps and launches himself, and suddenly he’s vaulting head over heels and leaving his lower legs behind. We rein in the horses as he lands in front of us, a third of the size he was before. It takes me a confused moment before identifying him as a rather tall dwarf who’s been using stilts.
Colin and I cheer politely as the man bows low, and when he raises his head, I recognize him from the common house.