Page 47 of Of Wind and Terror

We ride for so long that I lose track of time. Despite the rhythmic rocking of the carriage, I don’t sleep.

I don’t dare.

By the time we reach our destination for the night, my throat is unbearably parched, my eyelids are crusted shut from the sand blowing in from the carriage window, and my cheeks feel heated to crimson. I all but dive towards the canteen of fresh water and chug mouthfuls of the delicious, refreshing liquid down.

“Careful, cherub. You don’t want to drown yourself.” Aleksander moves to stand beside me, stretching his arms above his head.

The movement tugs up his loose shirt, and I can’t help but gawk at the prominent abs revealed, as pale as moonlight.

I turn away quickly, willing the heat to dissolve from my cheeks, and Aleksander chuckles knowingly.

As I take another sip from my canteen—slower this time—I allow my gaze to travel over our camp for the evening.

While it’s still in the desert, miles of golden sand spreading out on either side of us, it’s partially hidden by steep dunes, similar to Faye’s village. The sun has just begun to crawl below the horizon, painting everything pink and pale orange.

Blaze expertly sets up a tent while Treyton attempts to create a fire. And I say “attempt” because I’m pretty sure the Spring Prince never had to start a fire in his life. He eyes the logs—which we took from Faye’s village—as if they’ve personally offended him.

Blaze, on the other hand, moves with an agility and surety that lets me know this isn’t his first time sleeping outside. Not that I’m surprised. Blaze didn’t become a warrior by hiding away in his castle.

The huge male rolls out two sleeping bags side by side and then nods for me to take the smallest one.

“You’re not going to set up a bed for me?” Aleksander asks with an exaggerated pout. “That’s so mean.”

In response, Blaze grabs a twig from our log pile and chucks it at Aleksander’s face.

“There,” he deadpans. “I started a nest for you.”

Aleksander grabs the fallen twig and holds it to his chest. “I’ll treasure it always, brother husband.”

“Brother husband? What the fuck?” Blaze looks a single tick away from tearing Aleksander’s head off.

So I interrupt them before a fight can brew, even though I am curious what Aleksander means. Is this another one of his inane ramblings designed to piss everybody off?

“Do we have anything to clean up with?” I sign, hating how grimy I feel. Sweat coats my arms like a shirt.

“Here, sunshine.” Treyton takes my hand and leads me towards the carriage. Most of the supplies have been unloaded, including a huge barrel. “Faye said this water isn’t safe for drinking but should be fine to use for washing.”

He reaches into another pack, grabs a washcloth, and hands it to me.

I give him a grateful smile, which he returns before he steps away.

I don’t dare strip down—not with three males on the other side of the carriage—but I do take the time to wash everywhere I can reach. Faye, thankfully, packed a bar of soap that smells vaguely of roses. Once I’m sure my body is as clean as it’s going to get, I dunk my head in the water and get to work on my long hair.

Satisfied with my work, I step out from behind the carriage to see the three males have settled down for the night.

And they all surround my bedroll.

Treyton and Blaze have claimed either side—something that causes matching scowls to erupt on their faces. Aleksander sleeps directly above me, close enough for his head to brush my own if I choose to lie down.

A strange, indecipherable warmth blazes through me.

“Here.” Blaze sits up and hands me a pack with a few toiletries and a change of clothes.

I take it gratefully and then dip back behind the carriage. Quickly, I change into another dress—this one loose-fitting and gray—then brush my teeth. I return to the males as I’m attempting to tame my snarled hair.

Treyton straightens and beckons me forward. “Let me help,” he says gently, patting the space between his spread legs.

Blaze growls, and Aleksander appears amused.

---