“I’m ready to know what happened as soon as you are ready to talk,” she says.
I let out a long breath, pulling out one of the wooden chairs, and then sitting down.
“Well, he merely explained that we would be meeting Selric, their king, tomorrow evening. They are not affiliated with Arion, but they are allied with Mrath. Theren plans to give us a tour in the morning.”
I hesitate, then say, “Since Mrath told us they could take us to the witches’ island, in the middle of the ocean, I have been thinking that we will likely need?—”
“A dragon?” she squeals excitedly.
“Yes,” I grumble, but I turn my head to hide my smile as I start loosening my cloak.
“Gods, I can’t wait,” Arlet says.
“You won’t be so excited when your ass is rubbed raw and your skin burns from the wind,” I muse.
Her face falls, and I regret opening my godsdamned mouth.
“You didn’t enjoy yourself,” she states.
I purse my lips. The answer is, ‘no.’ But a twinge of guilt still radiates through my heartless chest at the thought of disappointing her.
“I don’t like heights.”
“Really?” she sits on the bed, and I’m struck by her unbound hair yet again. It cascades over her shoulders in wild waves of fiery red, the color almost glowing in the soft light.
“I live underground. Why would I need to worry about heights?”
She props her chin up with the heel of her hand. “I’ve seen enduares climb up the cave walls. It looks dangerous and it is, of course, very high up.”
“Well, I don’t perform those tasks, so,” I let myself trail off.
She lays back for a second, then forces herself forward to remove her boots. I watch how unconcerned she is with the prospect ofsleeping tonight, since the last time she’d been awoken, it was brutal.
And yet… I’m not inclined to remind her.
I’m not prepared to bind her, either.
Though, a thought pops into my head, not for the first time.
What Daniel had done was wrong. But why bind her? It is such a specific act, especially having read that story she kept near her at night.
I can’t shake the feeling that her wound is deeper than she lets on. And I hunger to uncover its entirety.
When her eyes seek mine again, I catch her brow furrow.
“Vann, can I—” her lovely voice stops abruptly, as if she were gathering strength. “You had a wife once, didn’t you? A mate?” she asks.
The question catches me off guard. It was a moment where two worlds clashed into each other. On the one hand, Adra was known by Teo and, therefore, Estela. Most if not all of the original two hundred and eighty enduares knew about Adra.
Arlet and I had floated around in similar circles. We knew a great deal about each other, and perhaps she even knew who she was. Butwehadn’t talked about this.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she says suddenly, and I realize just how long I’ve gone without speaking.
“No. I am sorry. Adra…” I pause, and my mind begins to flip through memories like a scroll keeper flips through the written word. Adra, with her grey-silver eyes and dark blue locks.
“Her name was Adra. Li’Adra.” My throat bobs. “She was... Yes. We were together for many years. Around twenty, before the Great War ended.”
Arlet waits patiently, a strange look on her face. It’s bittersweet, perhaps tinged with something akin to jealousy.