Page 102 of Of Flames and Fallacies

I take the opportunity to close the space between Archie and I. Taking a leap of faith, I place his dagger back into his hand and wrap my fingers around his. “Archie, please. If our friendshipmeans anything…” My eyes search his in desperation. “We will be gone by the end of the month. You won’t even have to worry about keeping the secret for long. Please, promise me.”

He glances down at our hands. “I...I promise I won’t say anything.”

I sigh and sag in relief. “Thank you.”

He nods reluctantly and turns away, pulling his hand out from my grasp.

“Wait, where are you going?” I call after him.

“Back to camp,” he responds as he sheathes his dagger.

“You’re…upset with me?”

He stops mid-step. “I trusted you. I told you all of my secrets.”

“I’m sorry, Arch. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to keep you safe.”

He snorts, glancing at me over his shoulder. “Well, it’s too late for that. If they take you down, I’m going with you.”

A snowstorm of emotions flurries inside my heart. I’m overwhelmingly honored by his loyalty, despite the risk of keeping such a massive secret. The thought that my decisions may very well lead to his demise is equally as terrifying.

He grabs the second dagger he dropped to the ground before disappearing into the forest toward the outpost.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whisper, hoping it’s a promise I can actually keep.

twenty-nine

WHO DO YOU TRUST

Every time I caught Archie’s gaze over the last few days, he looked away. It’s starting to make me nervous…because maybe I made a mistake in trusting him. I shouldn’t have put him in such a conflicting situation—but he hasn’t said anything about it. He hasn’t spoken of Daeja again. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or concerned. And every time I try to have a conversation with him, he finds a way to excuse himself.

I’ve been itching to see Cole—anything to confirm he’s safe and alive. But something in my stomach tenses at the vision of him hunched over the rebel’s dead body. Every time the memory resurfaces, I shove it back down, choking it off from the light of my mind.

I spend a majority of my time in the healer’s quadrant, sneaking off to see Daeja when I can. We spend our time at night flying over the lake, edging closer and closer to our impending deadline. We need that map. And as much as I don’t want toconsider it, my mind snags on one thought. If Cole can’t come with us, could we leave on our own?

I deliberate whether or not I should steal the map from Darian’s room. But when I recalled our last interaction where I coerced him into rescuing Archie by exploiting his sister’s memory, I change my mind. I can only imagine what Darian’s unfiltered rage could mean for someone like me—I’m back to square one with him. We need Cole to get a map, and that means I needed to talk to him.

I’m bent over the sink in the healer’s quadrant, washing bottles and vials. A knock sounds on the door, and Cole strolls in. A huge weight lifts off my shoulders at the first glimpse of him in days.

“I’m going to go fill this with water,” Marge says, a flask in her hand and her staff in the other. She shuffles out, leaving Cole and me alone.

He blows out a breath. “Hey…”

I take a few steps into his direction. “Hey...I’ve been wondering when I’d see you.”

A gash crusted in blood cuts his temple down to the top of his cheekbone. Darkness blooms under his eyes, and his normally warm gaze is dull.

I reach up a hand hesitantly to brush my thumb near the cut. “Does it hurt?”

He looks away, breaking our eye contact. “No.”

“Well, we should get it cleaned anyway. Especially since it’s been a few days.”

“No need, I’m fine. I just wanted to check in on you.”

“Well…I’m not fine.” The confession trembles on my lips. I want to tell him everything. How Archie knows about Daeja. The map in Darian’s room. How terrified I was I almost lost himandArchie. But I can’t ignore the sullenness of his features: the sag of his shoulders, his mussed auburn hair, and weary gaze. I grabhis chin and pull his face to me, demanding eye contact. “And I can see you aren’t either. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mutters. But his eyes say otherwise.

---