Page 49 of Quest

I vividly recalled the night in question, but now viewing it through the lens of understanding caused me to see every moment in a new light. I analyzed the memory from every angle, hyper-focused not only on her awkward position but where I’d been midst the bodies of men that had surrounded her. To my horror and secret delight I’d been within a mere arm’s reach.

A night that had passed innocently at the time now felt outright inappropriate. Now that I considered the full implications, I realized I had dragged an unmarried woman across treacherous terrain and forced her to endure difficult trials, which included camping with a group of strangers who all happened to be male.

Though I had no reason to distrust my two friends, I cast them suspicious glances. They didn’t even notice or glance Mei’s way, thankfully still oblivious she was a woman in disguise. I felt a surge of relief, grateful I could keep her true identity just our secret for awhile longer.

It was troubling how acute my protective instincts had become. While I’d always looked out for her during our quest like I would a younger brother, there were no hint of brotherly feelings now; instead I felt the stirrings of emotions I had no name for, but which I found both exhilarating and unsettling.

My eyes drifted again to Mei as she adjusted her bedding, smoothing the blanket with a feminine grace she seemed unconscious of before tucking her satchel and magical lantern close to her pillow. I frowned at my futon, seeming scandalously close to hers. It would be wrong for me to sleep so close when I was fully aware that she was a woman, but I couldn’t make myself scoot any farther away, held back by that same subconscious desire from earlier that I couldn’t fully put into words.

The part of me still desperately trying to cling to rationality seized the plausible excuse that sleeping near her would serve as a precautionary measure should anything happen during the night. If nothing else, I could at least shield her from being too close to the others who didn’t know her secret. The thought of them even being within her proximity filled me with an irrational, burning sensation it took me a moment to pinpoint as jealousy.

Mei was clearly uninhibited by such irrational qualms. After casting me a disapproving look that made me wither she tugged her bedding several generous centimeters away. “I’m not going to try anything,” I snapped quietly.

“I know, but this is for my own peace of mind.” And she settled down, keeping her back firmly facing me. I slowly eased beside her—my sense of honor that miraculously remained intact ensuring there was as much distance as the limited space allowed—and tried in vain to still my pounding heart enough to relax.

Normally the leaves’ quiet rustling and the distant stir of crickets formed a melodious backdrop that lured me to a peaceful and deep sleep, but the knowledge thatMeilay so close stirred a complex web of emotions within me that kept rest elusive. She was so near, just a few paces away—her silhouette barely visible in the faint moonlight—yet the distance felt immense, charged with new awareness.

I forced myself to roll over, yet even with her out of sight her presence was palpable—every small sound seemed amplified, each rustle of her movements a whisper through the still night. The proximity was both a comfort and a torment.

I shifted onto my side, allowing myself a subtle glance in her direction, her form blending quietly with the others. I listened to her breathing, too rapid and shallow for her to be asleep. The longer she remained awake, the deeper my concern grew. Though I possessed an array of reasons for my tumultuous thoughts, I had hoped that knowing she finally had an ally to help protect her secret would have provided her enough reassurance to relax.

“Are you comfortable?” My whisper felt magnified in the night, my acute awareness that Kael resting nearby or Jiang from where he crouched near the fire might overhear the deeper questions I yearned to ask.

Her silence extended so long that I wondered if I’d been mistaken and she’d fallen asleep after all. “I told you that you don’t have to worry about me,” she finally murmured.

Under the cover of darkness, I allowed the grin I often held back to spread freely across my face. “Your continued need to argue assures me that for all of today’s changes, you’re stillyou.”

Even with Mei’s reassurances I remained uneasy. The night was cool, with a gentle breeze occasionally wafting over us, causing her to shiver. She tensed when I scooted closer, but though I was tempted to peer into her face, I restrained myself and instead draped my cloak over her—a gesture echoing back to the first night of our quest. She made no protest, allowing me this single victory in an evening otherwise fraught with casualties to my sense.

Despite sleep feeling impossibly out of reach, I must have eventually dozed, for one moment I was staring at the dark outline of Mei’s body, and seemingly the next instant someone was shaking me awake…a person with an achingly gentle touch and a distinct floral scent.

My eyes snapped open to discover Mei leaning over me, her lovely features soft beneath her fading disguise. Dawn caressed the clearing where we lay, the first faint light already erasing the shadows of the long night. Before I could seek an explanation, her gaze flickered down to the bulging outline of my leg visible beneath the blanket. “I want to check on your injury.”

Her unexpected proximity caused my heart to beat wildly, but with great effort I maintained my usual calm demeanor as I sat up and stretched. “First you need to reapply your disguise ointment.“ I offered the suggestion reluctantly; it was rather disconcerting seeing her as Ren now that I knew her as Mei.

Her brows furrowed. “It’s freshly reapplied.”

Then why was it failing to work for me?

I had little time to ponder the puzzle when she presented a jar of murky brown concoction. “I gathered some new herbs growing in the area. The ones I used to treat your injury before were those I had on hand, a salve strong enough to stave off infection and begin healing, but not nearly as effective as some of the remedies in my arsenal. The one I prepared this morning should heal you completely, allowing you to travel more easily.”

I felt a swell of gratitude for the good fortune my injury afforded me, but it was short-lived. No sooner had I stood than she tugged on my arm, guiding me toward a nearby log. It was the first time I had touched her since learning she was a woman. Heat radiated from her touch, a disconcerting sensation given her current disguise as a boy. I closed my eyes, picturing her true face in my mind to steady myself against the turmoil her proximity caused. Yet while recalling her delicate features made me smile, rather than calming my heart only beat faster.

At her insistence I obediently sat so she could roll up my pant leg and better study my injury. I waited in nervous anticipation. My breath caught when I felt the first brush of her fingertips against my leg, electrifying even through the bandage.

Though her movements were confident, her touch remained hesitant, almost shy, as if she too was nervous about the contact. Surely she wouldn’t be if she felt entirely indifferent...not that I cared about her feelings towards me—or so I tried desperately to convince myself.

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined the injury, but my attention was solely on her and the skilled way she worked. She carefully unwound the old bandage and applied the new ointment; it was cool against my skin, yet all I could feel was the tingling warmth spreading from her fingertips as she treated my wound. With each gentle touch, the illusion of her disguise seemed to fade, revealing her as the knowledgeable and capable individual she truly was.

She finished, peering up at me through her lashes. My heart stuttered and I found myself momentarily lost in her eyes, a deep, soulful brown. Had they always been such a captivating color?

“How does it feel?” she asked.

I forced myself to focus on my injury. To my amazement it felt completely healed. But though I prided myself on my honesty, I found myself lying before I could check the impulse. “It still hurts. Perhaps you should check it again.”

Her brow furrowed as she glanced down. “But this remedy is supposed to be very effective. Perhaps I used the wrong herbs.” Amid the worry etching her expression I detected an emotion I knew all too well—fear rendered by inadequacy.

Guilt cinched my chest that I’d unnecessarily been the cause of such a painful emotion, making me feel like an utter cad. “The remedy worked perfectly. My injury feels fine, without a trace of pain.”

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