Chapter 5

5

K yrie

Taylor – no, he is not Taylor!

I take a deep breath.

The fae – that’s better - insists that I ride the camel. He walks beside us, holding one of the reins. It feels like hours and hours have gone by. I’m tired even though I’m not the one trudging through deep sand.

There is nothing but blasted sand for miles and miles. Not even a rock or a tumbleweed. There’s nothing but sand and more godsforsaken sand.

“Let’s stop for a break,” Taylor… the fae says, halting the camel and looking at me with his piercing blue eyes.

They’re all wrong. A stark reminder all over again that this is not Taylor. It’s not!

He tries to help me down, but I ignore his outstretched hand, leaping from the beast without his help. I stagger, and then I land on my knees in the burning sand. It’s soft, so it doesn’t hurt.

With pointed ears sticking out from his snowy white hair, he tries to help me up, but I ignore that, too, waving him off. I clamber to my feet unassisted, dusting the sand from my clothes as best I can. I pull the light linen scarf more securely over my head and neck, trying to get some reprieve from the harsh sun and finding none.

“I’m not your enemy,” he tells me.

I snort and shake my head. “We’re not having this conversation again.”

His jaw is tight, and his eyes are blazing, but much to my relief, he doesn’t argue.

“Last time I checked, you had pointy ears and freakish eyes, which means we are very much enemies. We’re just stuck in the middle of a reluctant truce right now.”

“And you’re going to run me through as soon as the truce ends.” His eyes crinkle at the edges, and his mouth hitches with the start of a smile that reminds me so much of Taylor it hurts. It’s a physical pain that blossoms from somewhere inside my chest, spreading outward.

I miss my friend. Taylor is the person I would turn to for help. I tell him everything. Ask his advice and he’s always so pragmatic in his assistance. Always there for me.

Not anymore.

“Yes, I’ll run you through,” I practically growl, trying to push the feeling away. “I’m glad you were listening because I meant every word.”

Taylor – make that the fae – unties a skin from the saddle, offering it to me first.

I take it and uncork it, taking a small sip that almost has me groaning it’s so good. I take another small sip, having to stop myself from gulping the liquid down quickly like I want to.

I hand it back to… the fae .

“You need more than that,” he says, looking down at the skin in my outstretched hand.

“We won’t make it if we drink too much. We only have one more skin. I’m not sure why they don’t take more on these trips,” I mutter to myself. “Unless you fae don’t need much.”

“It’s not that. There is an oasis about two days’ walk from here. They must stop there to replenish.”

I don’t say anything. I take another drink from the skin, handing it to him. This time, he takes it.

“Are you sure?” I look around us. The air has that hazy, wavy look it gets when it’s ridiculously hot, which it is. There’s nothing but sand and dunes for as far as the eye can see. There isn’t so much as a speck of green.

“I’m very sure. I can feel it inside me. The water calls to me…calls to my magic.”

His magic.

I make a noise of disgust as his eyes soften on mine. “I haven’t felt my magic in years. I didn’t know it was even there.”

“I need to rest.” I sit on the patch of shade made by the camel. “You should do the same. We have a long road ahead.”

I don’t want to hear any of it. Not about his past. Not about his magic. None of it.

I don’t care about any of it. All I know is that he isn’t the man I thought he was. He isn’t even a man.

The fae nods once; his eyes are hazy. He looks like I hurt his feelings. Well, tough luck. I don’t care about that, either.

With a sigh of frustration, he sits next to me, sharing the patch of shade. I’m tempted to tell him to sit somewhere else, but I can’t since he has walked all this way. He deserves a small reprieve from the baking sun. I watch him from the corner of my eye as he takes a long drink from the skin, his throat working, then he corks the leather skin.

I can smell him, and I’m not sure how, but he smells good. Like the forest. Of pine and of rain. I’m sure it’s new too. I don’t remember Taylor smelling of anything much. Or maybe he did, and I never noticed. I am acutely aware of him since everything changed.

I rest my arms on my knees and lay my head down. The dusty, hot air is difficult to breathe. My mouth already feels dry. I can’t wait until we leave this place.

“It’s Damon, by the way,” he remarks. “I know you don’t care and that you hate me right now, but just in case you need to use my name…now you know what it is.”

Right now.

I hate him for all time. I hate all of them. There is no other way.

I don’t say anything. I keep my eyes squeezed shut and my head resting on my arms. I don’t move a muscle or give any indication that I heard him.

“We need to leave soon. We will be more vulnerable tonight without rock beneath our feet.”

Those blasted wurms. I’ve heard them at night, close to our dwellings in the salt mines.

Once, some of the fae got drunk on mead and left three camels out on the sand. The terrified screams as they were taken will haunt me forever. I would hate for that to happen to us.

My breathing must change – I know my heart beats faster as fear creeps through me – because Taylor… the fae says, “We will find rock…don’t worry. There are patches dotted all over this desert.”

I get to my feet, and he follows suit. “We’d better get going,” I tell him. “I don’t want to get caught out in the open.”

The fae nods.

“You ride the camel. I’ll walk a while,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, I insist that you ride. I’m fine.”

“Why can’t we both ride the beast? She seemed to carry us just fine before.”

“I will, but only if it’s really necessary.” He looks me in the eye. “If we’re being chased. I’d rather save her strength in case of an emergency.”

“I would be fine taking turns,” I try again. I don’t want him doing me any favors.

“I’m stronger than you. I have far more stamina. I will walk.”

My eyes track the way his wide shoulders fill his tunic. The way the sleeves strain against his biceps. He is stronger and has far more stamina than I will ever process.

I shrug. “Suit yourself.” I mount the camel, and we head out. My eyes are drawn to the wide expanse of his back. His tunic strains over raw muscle. Then my gaze moves back to the endless desert.