15

Pine trees pierced the sky, crowding around the muddy, dirt path as they headed up a steep hill on Validus Mountain while Ferrum, smaller but more jagged, hovered in the west, capped in snow. The blue sky stretched before them without a single cloud to mar its perfection. Besides a few large boulders, some bushes, fallen trees, and underbrush there wasn't much to see. There weren't even game animals or squirrels, though he heard a few birds singing.

They'd begun their journey north to the coast that morning. It would take a few weeks depending on the weather, as winter started to encroach on the land. They would travel along a road that led through three different villages that were situated against the mountainside before reaching the coast.

The thought of the ocean made Cyrus beam. He could remember what the ocean looked like, smelled like, and even sounded like, but he possessed no personal memories of it. Even now, he could picture the warm sand, the sun glinting off the blue-gray water, and the low roar of the waves all the while the briny scent tickled his nose.

Something about that scene called to him. He stared at Greyson's lean back as he walked in front of him. He and Greyson would be at the beach together. His stomach knotted in an odd excitement.

Thanks to the fur-lined vest, cloak, gloves, and knit hat, Cyrus remained warm in the late fall air. It was chillier than he would've preferred, but the air didn't bite at his skin. Of course, it was only morning.

He tried to remain cheerful as the day passed, but it was hard, as Greyson gave him the cold shoulder. If Cyrus could have walked next to him or chatted quietly, it would've been more pleasant, but Greyson rebuffed him anytime he got close or tried to start a conversation. So the day passed in an oppressive silence until the afternoon when they took a short break.

Greyson gave him some dried meat, a hunk of cheese, and an apple. Cyrus accepted them with a smile, which wasn't returned. They sat right next to the road with some rocks at their backs and pines in front of them. He ate the meal quietly and drank from his waterskin, all the while watching Greyson, who sat, cross-legged, some distance away with his gaze on the treeline.

"Are you expecting danger?" he asked, thinking about his dream. It felt like an age ago.

"No."

Cyrus scooted closer, back scraping on the rocks. "How long until we reach the village?"

"Three days."

As he shifted even closer, the pine needles crackled beneath him. Greyson finally looked in his direction. Cyrus bit his bottom lip as his gaze trailed over Greyson's face. Greyson focused on his mouth as his posture stiffened. Cyrus' pulse skittered. Only days ago, he'd found out how soft Greyson's lips were. A palatable tension hung between them. He let go of his lip as his mouth opened to speak.

That small movement broke the moment, and Greyson jerked back, hands fisting on his thighs. Clearing his throat, Greyson brushed himself off. "We should go."

With a nod, Cyrus followed him.

As the sun set, Greyson made camp not far from the path in a copse of trees that shielded them on the off-chance another traveler journeyed the same road. Seeing that Cyrus had already started shivering, Greyson quickly gathered wood for a fire, having no trouble finding any. Once the flames burned bright, he riffled through the bags, removing the fur blanket and an extra blanket for Cyrus. He immediately draped them over Cyrus' broad shoulders, fighting the urge to gather him into his embrace.

"Stay here," he ordered. "I'm going to get water."

Cyrus nodded, teeth chattering.

How by the serpent below was Cyrus going to survive the winter?

Greyson stalked through the trees toward a stream that was about five minutes from their camp. The clear water rushed over the rocky streambed, curving through the trees and disappearing from view. A massive tree had fallen and crossed the creek, serving as a bridge if he wanted it. His gaze instinctively swept the area for any herbs or moss that may be of use. When he didn't spot anything, he crept down the steep embankment to fill the waterskins, kettle, and a pot.

The walk back, while short, became precarious. When he entered the camp, Cyrus smiled and almost made Greyson drop what he carried. Cyrus plucked the pot from the crook of Greyson's arm, his hand skimming over Greyson, which set off a riot of tingles.

Nodding his thanks, cheeks uncomfortably warm, Greyson put the kettle on the flames, then took the pot from Cyrus. Quickly, Greyson started dinner by adding chunks of dried meat, vegetables, and herbs.

Unable to stop himself, Greyson peeked at Cyrus from the corner of his left eye. He'd missed Cyrus, which was ridiculous because he was right there. Cyrus was always right there beside him. Nonetheless, he couldn't help the longing that rose within him, so powerful it stole his breath. He missed the easy touches, comfortable conversation, and sleeping with Cyrus in his arms.

It was necessary, or at least, he told himself it was.

He stirred the bubbling soup as a savory scent suffused the air and made his stomach growl. His gaze flicked to Cyrus, whose shoulders were hunched. Suddenly, blue eyes met his. Greyson jerked back, swallowing.

"Are you warming up?"

"Yes," Cyrus replied, rubbing his arms. "You don't happen to have a warming spell, do you?"

"No," he said. "I'm sure there are warming spells, but I don't know any."

Brow furrowing, Cyrus asked, "I thought you were a trained mage?"

"I am and I'm not."

Cyrus' mouth hung open as his eyebrows squished together, which made Greyson chuckle. "My mother was a court-trained mage. She was taken from the Griseo Mountains when she was ten because of her healing ability. It's a very rare gift. It took her twenty years to pay off her contract and come home. She married my father and had me. She taught me. I never went to school, though, because she didn't want to send me. There is a lot I don't know. I'm most skilled in battle magic. Basic spells that most trained mages would know, I don't."

"What do you mean ‘contract?'"

"Court mages don't have to pay for schooling. Instead, they have a contract price that has to be repaid before they can end their service to the emperor. The price depends on the person's skill."

"So your mom was taken?" Cyrus asked, moving toward him.

"Yes."

Cyrus leaned closer to him, almost touching. "Couldn't you go to school now if you wanted?"

"It's in the capital."

"So?"

Greyson tried to organize his thoughts for a response. There was so much Cyrus no longer understood. "I can't go to the capital. I can't leave the Griseo Mountains."

"Why?"

"After the rebellion ended, the emperor was going to execute me for the part I played. I was the face of it, after all."

A hand latched around his. "What?"

Fingers tingling, he extracted his hand from Cyrus' grasp. "In the end, I wasn't executed, obviously, but I was exiled. I can't leave the Griseo Mountains. If I do, there's a bounty on my head. Incentive, I guess, to stay put."

"You won't go back, right?" Cyrus asked, eyebrows forming a slash across his forehead.

"No. Why would I ever want to leave here? I love the Griseo Mountains."

Smiling, Cyrus said, "I'm glad. I like it here too."

He did not respond, and Cyrus" grin dimmed.

When the soup was finished, Greyson and Cyrus ate in silence, seated near each other. The fire gave enough light for him to see, and enough heat to keep Cyrus comfortable. An owl hooted in the distance followed by a long With wide. Wide eyes on the trees, Cyrus scooted even closer, almost pressing against Greyson's side and making him spill his tea.

"What's wrong?" Greyson asked, wiping his stinging fingers on his thighs. He shifted to the side to give himself much-needed space.

"We won't get attacked by anything, right?"

His brow furrowed until another howl pierced the air, too distant to bother them. "The wolves will leave us alone. The fire should keep them at bay. Besides, we're both armed."

Cyrus stayed close to his side, eating his bowl of soup, focus never straying from the darkness.

Greyson set the two bedrolls on opposite sides of the fire before stacking up a pile of wood. When Greyson sank to the ground, Cyrus hovered next to him, arms swinging.

"We're not sleeping next to each other?" Cyrus asked, feet shuffling.

"No. The fur should keep you warm enough."

"Okay."

Unable to stop himself, Greyson watched as Cyrus arranged the blankets. Greyson forced himself to lie on his right side, facing the fire with his staff resting on the ground in front of him. Settling, he held his staff and tried to fall asleep.

"Goodnight," Cyrus said from across the camp.

"Goodnight."

A series of yips broke the silence and made Cyrus squeeze the blanket. The cold air pierced him through the many layers and numbed his face. He drew the blanket tighter around him, curling into a ball. It didn't help.

The low fire gave off enough light that Cyrus could discern Greyson's sleeping face. He wanted to close the distance between them and wrap his arms around Greyson, to feel the warmth seep into him.

He shifted again, trying to get comfortable, an impossible feat on the hard ground. No matter where he moved, a rock or a stick jabbed into his side, making him reposition yet again. A howl sounded in the distance followed by more high-pitched yips.

His breath quickened as sweat gathered on his palms. "Greyson?"

Greyson didn't react.

Tightening his hold on the blanket, Cyrus tried to let it go. The trees creaked above him, swaying in the wind. He stared at them, swallowing. Rustling came from behind him, and Cyrus flipped over, reaching for his sword while his pulse thundered in his ears. His eyes flicked back and forth, searching as if something would suddenly materialize from the shadows.

His gaze shifted back to Greyson, who was sound asleep. Safety was right there. Cyrus swallowed, hands curled into fists.

"Greyson."

With a growl, Greyson snapped, "What?"

"Can I sleep next to you?"

"No," Greyson said, shifting to his back.

Cyrus bit his lip and kept lying on his side. Eventually, Greyson rolled back onto his right side. "Are you okay?"

"The wolves are making me nervous."

"You are safe. I promise." Greyson threw a couple more pieces of wood onto the fire, sending sparks into the night sky.

"I trust you."

"I know."