It does not matter, I tell myself again and again and again, until the words lose all meaning.He does not matter.
Tossing the remainder of my stale dinner into the fire, I settle back against the mossy hollow trunk of a fallen tree, tuck my cloak more firmly around me, and allow the gentle babbling of the nearby brook to lull me into a fitful slumber.
Something wakes mein the dead of night.
I jolt into consciousness, eyes snapping open. It is black as pitch. The fire has nearly gone out. I push out of my slumped position against the hollow tree and find my feet, glancing around for signs of monsters in the dark. None materialize. My ears strain for sounds—anything that might indicate I am not alone in the clearing where I’ve made camp. There is nothing save the soft hoot of an owl soaring overhead.
Dismissing my paranoia, I stoop to toss a handful of fresh kindling onto the embers. I’ve barely risen back to full height when a large hand claps itself across my mouth from behind.
I scream.
“Quiet,” Penn murmurs, his breath stirring the hair at my temple. “There are creatures in the Forsaken Forest you do not want to call down upon us.”
The scream dies in my throat. I swallow hard, trying to slow my racing heart. As my breathing evens and sense returns, for the first time in more than a week, I feel the pull of an invisible tether in the center of my chest. My breath catches at the sensation. I had not realized how much I longed to feel the Remnant bond again—to feel Penn again—until this moment.
“Are you calm? Can I remove my hand?”
I nod.
His arm falls away and he steps back. I inhale a deep gulp ofnight air and set my shoulders before I dare turn to face him. He wears the dark helm he had on when we first met, the serpentine nose bridge accentuating the fierceness of his severe expression. A thick growth of stubble dots his tight-clenched jaw.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper haltingly.
“I should ask you the same.” His brows are furrowed, his dark eyes moving rapidly over me as though memorizing every detail. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for you? Two full days in this damned forest, going round in circles looking for tracks. You move like a bloody ghost.”
My chin jerks haughtily. “Why?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why have you been searching for me?”
“Is this some sort of jest?”
“I’m perfectly serious.” I stare at him. “Do you intend to drag me back to Caeldera to face trial? To throw me in the dungeons to rot? Because I’d rather you just kill me here and now. Be done with it.”
As I speak, Penn’s expression grows thunderous. “You think I’ve spent my time tracking you through the wilderness becauseI want to punish you?” He practically vibrates with rage. I am surprised smoke does not leak from his ears. “You think, after I felt the burst of power you expelled three days ago…after I felt your distress, your pain, your fear…after I came across the ruins of that wagon and saw the ground littered with bodies…and feltnothingfrom our bond, not a single fuckingflickerof your presence…” A muscle leaps in his jaw as he struggles for control. “You think after all that…I want to hurt you?”
“I…” The ground beneath me seems suddenly shaky. “I didn’t…”
“Gods, Rhya!” He half shouts, careful to keep his tone subdued even in his agitated state. “What do I have to do to earnyour trust? What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not going to hurt you? That I would do anything—anything—to keep you safe?”
“I…I don’t know.”
His hands curl into fists at his sides. “You are the most infuriating, obstinate, impossible woman I have ever met. And I have been alive for well over a century.”
My spine goes ramrod straight. “If that’s how you truly feel, why did you bother coming after me at all?”
“Like I said,” he mutters. “Impossible.”
“Is it just because I’m the Remnant?” I wish my voice weren’t shaking. “Just because of some stupid prophecy that makes you honor bound to protect me?”
“Fucking hell, Rhya!” His eyes bore into mine, aglow in the darkness. “I don’t give a damn about the prophecy. Not anymore. I care aboutyou.”
My heart is hammering. Too hard. Too fast. I cannot think straight, cannot even attempt to articulate everything I am feeling. Especially when he is looking at me like that. “You don’t understand. I can’t go back. Not after…”
“You killed him. Gower.”
I reel back, like he’s dealt a physical blow.Of course.He’d seen the gruesome scene. Of course he knows what I’ve done. My stomach twists into an ugly knot. “But how did you— When did you—”