Page 54 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Aislinn stared at him, her eyes doe-wide. He preferred the face she made when she was slightly annoyed, but he liked this one too.
He liked all of her faces…
“I’m actually not entirely sure,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”
Theysetoffagainat first light, merry as the day before, although the air was turning harder and chillier. They were not far from Winter now. A day, two at most—Aislinn wasn’t sure. Bell was in charge of the map.
In all her expeditions before, Aislinn had never trusted another person enough to navigate for her. Cass used to tease her about it mercilessly.
“What do you think is going to happen if I have the map, just for a little while?”
Aislinn didn’t doubt Cass’ skill, but she could not surrender the map. She had to be the one holding it, to know where they were going.
“You could walk us into a bog, perhaps.”
“Yes, because I don’t have eyes. Or ears. Or anose.”
It was only now Aislinn wondered if it wasn’t a trust thing at all, but a way to only blame herself if things went wrong, to relieve one more person of the burden of responsibility. She was to be queen one day, after all. Of course she should lead. Of course she should take the fall.
She wondered why she’d so easily surrendered to the dwarves. It was likely just the sensible thing to do—they knew the way, and she did not.
From time to time, Caer met her gaze, but she did not hold it for long. It was hard to have a conversation with Beau literally breathing down her neck, and several times she opted to go on foot just to have a little more space to move. Once or twice, she scurried up to the treetops and hopped along the boughs and branches, shaking off the memory of her injury. She was not made to be chained to the ground.
Sometimes, she caught Caer watching. She tried not to enjoy that too much.
Caer was quite sure he’d never enjoyed anything as much as he enjoyed watching Aislinn move through the forest like something between a leaf and a cat, a creature made of air. She could scuttle up the tree so fast he swore she almost levitated. He’d seen acrobats before and marvelled at their skill, but Aislinn seemed more water than flesh and muscle. She didn’t leap, she soared. She made a mockery of whatever force pinned them to earth, flitting through the undergrowth like a bird, her cape trailing behind her like the wings of a butterfly.
It was impossible to look away.
“I can see you staring,” said Beau pointedly, a grin spread across his face.
“It’s an impressive feat.”
“She is,” said Beau, still smiling. “But is that the only reason you’re staring?”
“I—”
“Oh, this is very amusing,” said Minerva.
Fort pulled her wargi in closer. “More amusing than that time we told Caer that skipping was the easiest way to get around the forest?”
Caer’s cheeks heated. “I was really fast and you know it!”
A laugh passed through the party, deep and rippling. Aislinn dropped down from the boughs and slipped back onto her horse. Beau decided this was the perfect opportunity to stretch his own legs, although he kept to a steady pace beside the party, not flitting through the trees.
Caer gazed at Aislinn like a painting of water, unsure of whether he wanted to dive into it, or stand back and safely admire from a distance. He knew she didn’t consider herself as magically gifted as her brother, but there was something different abouthermagic. It rolled off her like dew from the morning leaf. It was natural, beautiful, wondrous to behold. No matter how wild and dangerous she was, no matter the power that trembled in her wake, her magic was not so thunderous. Her power was all her own.
He’d never liked magic before now. Never appreciated it or seen the value in it, the wonder.
It was decidedly growing on him now.
That evening, as they made camp, and Caer was off looking for firewood, Beau sidled up to Aislinn and whispered in her ear.
“Did something happen between you and the prince last night?”
Aislinn blushed. “That is absolutely none of your business.”
Beau clapped his hands, grinning. “That’s a yes, then.”
