“You’ll sleep tonight, I promise you. Come on. Let’s start walking. We have to get out of this forest in order to see where we are.”
They set out through the maze of moss-and-lichen-covered trees, through the skeletal remains of the dead hardwoods, the remnants of the old world and reminders of what had been lost. Once, this forest must have been beautiful, so many huge old giants clustered together, their interlocking boughs covered with leaves, sunlight filtering to the earthen floor. There would have been clusters of wildflowers and ferns and flashes of small animals and birds. That was all gone now, the forest dead and deserted of life, a graveyard every bit as empty and bereft as the one they had just escaped.
“This is taking too long,” Phryne declared not long after, drawing up short. She was recovered by then from her breakdown and better able to think about what was needed.
“I should try using the Elfstones again.”
Pan stopped and faced her. He looked unconvinced. “I don’t know,” he said carefully.
“Using their magic might call attention to our presence. We don’t know what might be attracted.”
“But how much more trouble are we likely to get into if we just wander around in here? We could be going in the exact wrong direction.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated.
She took his hand and squeezed it. “Please, Pan. Let me try. I know I can do this. I’ll be careful.”
He squeezed her hand back, persuaded. “All right. Do it.”
Once more, she produced the Elfstones, dumping them out of their pouch and into her open palm. This time, she formed a steady image of Arborlon, dismissing all other choices as she closed her eyes. The familiar warmth rose from the Stones into her fist and arm and from there into her entire body. She felt the magic strengthen as it surged through her, and her eyes snapped open.
Blue light lanced from her closed fingers in a different direction from the one they had been taking, angling off to their left and cutting through the trees until it found open country, blasted and barren, where clusters of rocks and dead trees dominated ravines that crisscrossed to foothills that bordered mountains she recognized immediately.
The flow of the magic dissipated, and the blue light died away. “Did you see?” she asked him excitedly. “Did you see those mountains? Aphalion Pass cuts right through them into the valley. Arborlon is just beyond!”
“I saw,” he answered. “Now we know. Everything is all right. We know where to go.
Thanks to you, we know.”
For a moment, they stared at each other without speaking, both of them smiling and giddy. Then at the same moment he reached for her, she moved into his arms and kissed him on the mouth. She kissed him for a long time, hungry for it, for him, wanting the closeness, the feel of him. She didn’t care what it meant or how it had happened or even what it would lead to. She just wanted to do this—something she had secretly considered for longer than she could remember—without having to give it thought or measure its consequences.
She liked it that she was the one who broke the kiss. She stepped back from him, still holding his arms, and she saw at once the confusion in his eyes. “I didn’t mean … it was just …”
“I wanted to kiss you,” she said, cutting him short. “I did it because I wanted to, and I’m glad I did.”
He nodded quickly. “Me, too. I wanted to kiss you, too.”
She took his hand and began walking in the direction that the Elfstones had showed them. “I might want to kiss you some more,” she told him after a moment, giving him a wicked smile. “Maybe a lot.”
He took a long time to respond. “I might want that, too,” he said.
THEY HAD WALKED A LONG WAY INTO THE SKELETAL bones of the forest, the fecund smells of decay and ancient earth assailing their senses—already spinning from the kiss—before Pan made himself let go of Phryne’s hand. He did so reluctantly, but with a sense of relief, as well. He couldn’t seem to think straight when she was holding on to him like that. His memory of the kiss kept crowding out everything else, and in country like this he couldn’t afford the distraction.
Breaking contact seemed to help. She moved away from him a few steps once he let her go, and when he glanced over she gave him a neutral look. He couldn’t help wondering why she had done it. Not that he wasn’t happy she had; he most assuredly was. He didn’t think he would ever have a kiss like that again. Not so deeply passionate and not under such desperate, almost frantic conditions. But he didn’t understand the reason for it. She could have chosen another way to express her euphoria. She could have just held him, and he wouldn’t have given it a second thought.