Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CRASHING WAVES

W e rode across the open beach, watching the Casmerre sail off into the distance. I ran Blackjack as fast as he would allow, given the small loads strapped to my sides. The sea salt in the air stuck to my face and my hair whipped all around me. I cried out at the exhilaration.

But it was not a joyful time—not with the group as serious as they were. Jana’s orders put Parson at my front, and Ezren at my back. They were my shadows, in case of any trouble. It made for a silent journey to the Adimon Mountains. Parson spoke rarely on a normal day, and even less when set on a mission. And Ezren acted like I didn’t exist, despite his position as my personal guard.

So we journeyed like that, with Jana in the lead, until a few hours before dawn. We came to the base of the range’s imposing peaks, outlined in shape by the lingering moonlight. Tomorrow our real journey would begin, Jana said. We set up a small camp, just large enough for the twelve of us, our bed rolls fashioned around two fires like petals from the center of a flower. Parson slept to my left and Ezren to my right. One of them was to remain awake at all times, regardless of who else in the group was on watch.

Ezren volunteered to stay up first. He wandered several yards out, putting a safe distance between us. His silence had become increasingly loud, and I didn’t understand it. I wanted to hate him for how he humiliated me in front of Leuffen. I wanted to despise him for the rejection. My body didn’t share the sentiment, however. I could still sense when he was around, like smoke from a fire. And when he wasn’t, I was both relieved and agitated. I played various scenarios in my head. In one, I would get up, walk over to him, and ream him out for his mixed signals, strike him across the cheek even. In another, I would just reach up to feel the short stubble of his face in my hands and pull him towards me.

I did neither. I only lay there, awake with my thoughts.

At some point, sleep came. But it didn’t last, and when I opened my eyes, Parson and Ezren had already readied their mounts. Someone set out a small bit of breakfast for me, a few pieces of cheese and berries laid on a cloth to my left. Parson, I assumed. I gobbled down the food, condensed my bedroll, and made my way to Blackjack. We moved with quiet efficiency, as if our first night in the split group crystallized our new reality. Dane’s withdrawn demeanor struck me the most, for he usually commanded conversation. I shot a glance over at him—he was fixing his horse’s girth in silence. He worried about Sanah, I imagined.

I finished preparing my saddles and then walked up to Parson. “Thanks for the food,” I said, extending his intricately woven handkerchief back to him.

He cocked his head at me. “Sorry, Terra, but that’s not mine.” And then he stuck his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over his horse without another look in my direction.

My eyes moved back towards Ezren, but he was busy examining the underpart of his beast’s hoof. So I just tucked it into my saddlebag and did the same as Parson. The rest of the twelve followed suit, and we were off once more. This time, to summit a mountain.

Breath slipped from my lungs as the range came into focus. The peaks were jagged and terrifying, but all the more stunning for it. After a few hours, we gained the vantage of elevation and could see the miles and miles of thick forest that we’d traveled through. Wildflowers and growths that called to me lined the mountain paths. I flexed my magic more and more, no longer insecure about control. If a leaning tree blocked our path, I would direct it to let us pass, or if the foliage became overgrown, I would bend it so that the horses could move through with ease.

I also was instrumental in bolstering the food supply. I wasn’t the huntress, of course, for I had no bow nor Leuffen to verify my skills with one. But I could sense where the safe mushrooms burrowed or where the sweet berries thrived. I took pleasure in the usefulness, especially given the scrutiny I faced. Either Parson or Ezren was required to accompany me on my foraging. Neither spoke nor addressed me, but I made them carry my sack of spoils.

On the third day, we breached the tree line on one of the peaks Jana intended to cross, leaving us exposed to the elements, and the gods knew what else. The peaks were more visible then, boasting hard edges and snowcapped tops. Although vegetation grew scarce, I still loved to look at their lines—dramatic, powerful, and utterly perspective-inducing.

Despite the lack of roots and branches, I could coerce the rubble into forming a small rock hut for us to spend the night in. Again, we lit small fires and arranged our sleeping mats in the usual way.

“The mountains are beautiful, aren’t they?” Dane said, sinking into a bedroll, his positioned next to Ezren’s.

I looked up at his distant eyes. “They do have a way of making you feel small yet large all at once.”

“How does your magic feel in them? Sifting through the rockery, I mean,” he asked.

Heat crept up my neck, either from the fire or the green eyes I felt trained on me as I answered. “It feels different. Still like the Earth, but not quite alive in the way of the forest or the brush. Like pure existence, which I suppose the mountains are since they are formed through so many years of rain and sun and snow. I can sense their might with my magic, but they feel much older and more magnificent than anything I possess.”

Dane nodded at my musing and lay down, his curiosity gone. I too fell into my bedroll, and for the first time since our travels began, I didn’t think about who would lie beside me or watch me all night.

I shot up, a deep sleep still heavy in my mind and on my chest. Something had woken me. Parson was gone from my left, so I risked throwing a glance over my shoulder to Ezren. He lay there, asleep as I’d never seen him before. And he was breathing fast, short, like he was having an unpleasant dream. I closed my eyes, willing myself to go back to sleep. But he started to mumble, an unsettled stream of consciousness—not quite coherent words. He tossed and turned, his murmuring growing louder. And then I saw it, a ripple of green scales running down his face, his neck, and further south.

I swore under my breath. Could he accidentally shift from being too worked up in a dream state?

I crawled to him and gave him a gentle shake by the shoulders. “Ezren,” I whispered, “Ezren, you’re dreaming.” He stirred, slowly pulled from the grips of his nightmare. “Wake up,” I pleaded. His eyes fluttered open, sleepy at first and then wide with terror. For a moment, I thought he would push me off or attack. But he only shuttered his velvet eyes once more and let out a long breath, his body relaxing into the ground. I could have sworn I saw two tears escape down the sides of his temples before he pulled me into his chest, his hand on my mid back, gentle. My mouth fell open at the smooth and natural move, more familiar than he’d ever been with me. And maybe it was the shock—but I went willingly, laying my ear on his heart, absorbing its elevated beat. He fell back asleep, soft snores evidence of a more peaceful rest than before, and I wondered if he was ever fully awake to begin with.

Despite my acute awareness of our close proximity, it lulled me to sleep. The next time I woke, I was back on my own bedroll, with Parson asleep beside me and the fierce-eyed Dragon Fae nowhere in sight.

The following few days, Ezren continued to ignore me, but his energy seemed softer. I knew for sure it was him who left me food each morning, him who rolled up my bedroll if I went to relieve myself before packing my saddle bags. He always stayed near but never too close, and though part of me was driven insane by it, the other part of me relaxed into the routine. At least it didn’t feel like the dead of winter in his presence. He was kind, but seemingly uninterested. Something held him back. I had to accept that.

“We will crest the top of the final peak today,” Jana said to Parson while we rode. “After that, we descend toward the valley.”

Parson only grunted in response. We were all weary from almost a week of riding through the steep, rocky cliffs. Jana wanted us to cross many miles south of the sea, to deny Fayzien the advantage of nearby water should we meet him.

I had seen glimpses of the Nameless Valley through small clearings in the trees or trail bends around the mountain. The vast arid landscape that I knew as the Endless Ocean actually looked like an ocean, in a way. The plain spread wide, barren of trees and boundless. Something struck me every time I laid eyes on it; the valley felt wrong… as if it dipped below the sea level, and I wondered if they withheld some detail about the place—a piece of the puzzle that was missing.

“Terra,” Parson said, snapping my attention up. “Be on alert. This is no time for daydreaming.” His eyes shifted to the warrior behind me, and I turned back on instinct.

Ezren’s gaze narrowed on me. Over the last few weeks, I had done my best to resolve my mind and train my emotions to accept the Dragon as a neutral protector. But just then, the wind blew past him, sending his scent to me. Pinon and the forest after rain. I’d noticed his scent before, in a subtle way, but this time it hit me like a wall. I faced forward, my skin beginning to itch as the friction of the saddle beneath my womanhood became quickly unbearable.

Parson cocked his head at me, his nose crinkling. “Are you all right, Terra?”

I nodded, gritting my teeth, attempting to survive whatever bizarre reaction my body was having. Then his eyes widened, and he whipped back forward, the tips of his ears reddening.

I continued to breathe through the reaction, and eventually the discomfort reduced from acute to bearable. As we approached the Nameless Valley, the energy turned tense in our group. Ezren remained a bit closer and Parson a bit more watchful. Quiet chatter grew into sharp silence. I tensed, too, seeing each rock as a weapon, each tree as potential shrapnel.

We stopped to gather and hunt once more before crossing over to the other side of the mountain for our descent. It was Parson’s turn to search for game, and Ezren’s to hold my sack of berries and root vegetables. I could’ve just summoned them, but Jana insisted we conserve all magic, even when I argued that using mine made me feel stronger.

I searched for anything in the rock rubble that lived above the tree line. Finally, I found a patch of fungi that I knew would be delicious with whatever rabbit Parson caught, and I yelped with glee. Ezren dashed to my side at once, eyes wild in search of danger.

I just looked at him and laughed, shaking my head at how on edge he was. This seemed to irritate him, and he broke his silence.

“What?” he demanded, his arms folded across his chest.

His direct address caught me off guard, and it dawned on me how starved of his voice I’d been.

“Oh, now you speak to me.” I snorted, turning back to the mushrooms. He walked over and said nothing, opening up the sack for me to place my spoils into. His scent hit me again, and the itching on my body resumed. I clamped my jaw shut and only took small necessary sips of air until I finished loading the sack and stood.

He turned and made to walk away.

“What do you dream about, Ezren?” The words escaped me before I had time to process them. There had been more of his nightmares, and I always woke him with my touch. But I’d never stayed with him again like I had that first night. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

The Dragon froze. After a few long moments, he took what seemed to be a pained breath and turned to face me. “I dream of your screams, Terra. I hear them, the ones from the cleansing, the ones from the crevice, over and over again. And I hear ones that I know you have not yet let out but that will come. And I wake, in terror, that I will be able to do nothing to stop them.”

“Why?” I asked softly, feeling my face redden. “Why do you dream of me if you can’t bear to speak to me? If you were so repulsed by my touch when Leuffen saw us?”

I could sense the stillness in him now, unmoving. “Not your turn.” His stony expression gave nothing away, but a whisper of challenge laced his words.

I crossed my arms and shrugged my shoulders at him to go on.

His eyes danced. “Why do you think I dream of you?”

My heart thundered in my chest.

“That’s not a fair question,” I whispered, retreating a step.

Ezren took a step forward. “Fine. How do you think I feel about you, then, Terra?” His voice was near a growl.

“How you feel about me?” My breath hitched. “You barely look at me. You—you left when I had to humiliate myself in front of everyone by recounting what happened with Fayzien.” I threw my hands in the air. “I suppose you’re kind, but uninterested.”

Darkness flickered in Ezren’s expression. “No one has ever accused me of being kind. And for what it’s worth, I left that room so I wouldn’t destroy it.”

My chest flared, his comment burning yet… emboldening. “So, what is it, then? Are you disgusted by me? By your interest in me?”

“I had to create some space between us. There are reasons, good ones, that we can never be together in that way. It’s not my place to say, but I cannot allow myself to feel that way for you.”

My breathing grew deep and labored, my throat tight at the idea that my feelings were reciprocated.

“But do you?” I murmured, searching his eyes. “… feel that way about me?”

He stayed silent for a moment. “Of course I do,” he rasped guiltily.

His simple answer was all it took to break the wall I’d built. I didn’t care about whatever reason held him back. I prowled to him, holding his stare. We both held our breath.

“I’ve had everything taken from me. And the only thing I’ve learned is that this ,” I gestured to us and everything around us, “is fleeting.”

And then I drank in his scent, letting it fill me up. The itching was so intense it turned into a heated buzz that settled on my skin and blurred my vision. His gaze sharpened as I lifted my hand to his unmoving chest.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Ezren ground out through his teeth, fighting the instinct to breathe. “Your Fae senses are returning to you as we near the realm, and you don’t know how to control them.”

I dragged my eyes up and down his body, letting my fingers travel down his abdomen. “Does it burn for you, too?” I whispered, not needing a response. That primal part of me knew the answer. He didn’t move or say a word, remaining as still as stone. “Just breathe, Ezren,” I said in a voice that sounded distant to my ears. I was all instinct now, guided by my growing Fae senses.

My fingers reached the top of his trousers, catching on the lip where they were fastened. At this, he sucked in a short breath, an unintended reaction. But it was enough. He inhaled fully then, drinking the air as if it was the first time he’d breathed in an hour.

His pupils dilated into Dragon slits, his hand flying to my throat and clamping down firmly, but not dangerously. I let out a small noise, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “I’ve never been very good at control either,” he murmured, cocking his head. “Always so damned flushed.”

The sack dropped from his other hand, and his arm wrapped around my hips, pulling me into him. My body was one rhythm then, a drum that beat for one thing. His fist tightened into the tunic fabric on my low back and he brushed my bottom lip with his thumb. But he did nothing more, frozen as if waiting for my consent. So I pulled his face to mine, and his lips parted, meeting in a release of pent-up desperation.

We were two waves crashing into each other, swells that could not be stopped. He let out a small moan and placed one hand under my backside, pulling me up and into him, leading my legs to hug his waist. His other hand tangled in my hair, guiding my head in our kiss. My heart exploded. I needed him more than I’d ever needed anything .

Without meaning to, I let my power flow into him. He reciprocated. It felt right, unlike what I’d experienced with Fayzien or Jana. I let my hands run everywhere, grazing over the ripples of his muscled arms and back. His body responded to my touch in more ways than just the male. And while we explored each other, our magics did as well. If mine was life and vibrance, his was the wind and light, wild and heated one moment, and a cool summer breeze the next. He moved us, pressing my back into a nearby boulder. I could feel the swell of him now, the hardness that told me irrevocably he wanted me. He ran his tongue up my neck, and a shudder went through me at the recollection of the last time. I unbuttoned my shirt, not breaking my kiss, eager to remove any barrier between us. But he stilled.

“Terra,” he breathed into me. “Look.”

All around us, rubble floated in small, soft, individual green glows. It looked like thousands of emeralds hung in the air, as if our magic had come together upon instinct, forming a life-size kaleidoscope right there on the side of that mountain.

He set me down and cupped my cheek in his hands, his pupils circles once more. “Not like this,” he breathed. He pressed his lips to my forehead and stepped away from me, taking my hand in his and pulling me to follow him back to camp, our soaring emeralds falling gently down around us.