Page 50 of Unbetrothed

“Could I see the map?” His voice sounded flat and disconnected.

I passed it to him. While he examined the drawings, sunlight peeked through the leaves, casting a dazzling haze onto the trail. The peace contrasted with our dire need to save Blas. “Do we have a chance of making it there and back in time?”

Zichri studied the mountains surrounding the woods. “I sure hope so.”

“Always the hopeful one.”

“How else does a person live?” A tired smile crossed his face as he examined the legend.

“Living my best life now,” I said. “Good times and garnering the respect of others.”

He folded the map swiftly and stuffed it into his pack. “I think I know the way, and what you described is only partially true. Without tough times, a person becomes haughty.” He reached for my hand and kissed my knuckles. A happy tingle ran along my arm, but his words knocked an arrow through my chest. Princess Alexa was the haughty one, not me.

I yanked my hand free. “Are you calling me haughty?”

“It was a general observation, not an insult. Come now, we don’t have time to stand around.” He led us farther down the path.

“You mustknow that I’ve had hard times.” I brushed a branch to the side and trekked next to him. “You heard my uncle Uly speak of how difficult it is to be called into the valley.”

“I didn’t say anything to debate that.”

The way Zichri focused ahead without a glance at me stung more than I wanted to admit. Had he changed his opinion about me? I pouted, but he didn’t notice. He had noticed the details of my moods and expressions until now. Logically, it could be that we needed to hurry. Blas should be our chief focus. I sighed loudly.

Zichri lifted a brow and peeked over. “I didn’t say you were haughty.” He tripped on a root. His eyes flew open as he threw his hands forward. He caught himself before he fell.

I giggled, not breaking a stride.

“You’re possibly a little self-indulged.” Zichri ran his fingers through his hair and continued forward.

“Self-indulged?” I marched by his side. “In Giddel, we don’t outright tell people their faults. It is not proper.”

“You laughed at me for tripping over a root that had been lower a second before. I could have rolled my ankle.”

“But you didn’t. You should have seen your face. Just admit it, you would have laughed if I tripped.” I dodged a bush. Crashing into something would be more humiliating after laughing at him.

“No, I would have helped you.” He picked up the pace. “You haven’t told me anything about you and your family. It seems interesting that a merchant’s daughter would have such a powerful uncle. I thought only the royal lines and noblemen wielded such powers.”

I slowed my pace, realizing that he also had his doubts about me and for good reason. “Every person in Giddel receives a gift.” As he turned his chocolatey eyes in my direction, I turned my face away, gnawing on my bottom lip. He didn’t press for answers.

And I didn’t want to lie. Every person in Giddel did receive a gift, but, as a general rule, the royal lines and noble people came into highstanding because of their powerful giftings. Padding boots and snapping twigs were our only form of communication for a long while.

CHAPTER 25

“WE SHOULD BE NEARthe river,” Zichri said. “I would prefer to travel the edges of the Chupalma Wood.”

I looked over my shoulder, and the dirt along the trail shifted ever so slightly. Had we been walking in the wrong direction? A terrible pain clutched my stomach.

The midday light grew darker. I walked under leaves large enough to wrap around my body. My markings throbbed as a constant reminder to hike faster. Push harder. The shiver of death chased me and wasn’t far behind.

“Come with us,” cried a voice.

Zichri and I stopped. His gaze darted about like eagle eyes scanning the landscape. Smooth tree trunks wider than a carriage stood in eerie silence. A carpet of foliage covered each side of the path. I edged closer to Zichri, heart pounding like a woodpecker stabbing at my breastbone.

We tramped ahead, air thickening. Silence fell over the land, and the leaves stilled.

“Zichri,” I whispered, “do you think it’s the Chupalma?”

“Remember what your uncle said. Focus on the trail. Don’t engage.”

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