Page 14 of A Shard of Ice

“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 faesays, “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.

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