Page 48 of A Promise of Peridot
The palm and nut trees around us had trunks the circumference of small homes and waxy, bright green leaves that dripped dew and moisture like rain. Amid the varied palette of greens were splashesof vibrant color—oblong pale blue fruit, spiked pink flowers, yellow moths with wings larger than my outstretched palm.
“We’re a few miles outside the town of Frog Eye.”
“Are we near Siren’s Cove?” Arwen asked, and I suppressed a frown at the expression bare on her face. The regret in her eyes over the capital’s siege.
“No, we’re on the other side of the kingdom. Not nearly as affluent over here, and mostly populated by pirates, sailors, and smugglers who roam the Ocean of Ore a few miles west.” I tramped past two monarchs, tangled in flight. “So be careful, and no stupid plans.”
“Stupid plans? You can’t be talking about us.” Arwen gestured to herself and Mari.
“Amulet heist, Shadow Woods wolfbeast disaster, Halden escape scheme...” I counted on my outstretched fingers as I recalled each harebrained plot. “Need I go on?”
“The Shadow Woods wolfbeast disaster was all her.” Mari pointed to Arwen.
“Traitor,” Arwen muttered, though her lips twitched.
“Dare I ask what a Shadow Woods wolfbeast disaster entails?” Fedrik asked Arwen, nudging her playfully.
“No,” I snapped before walking away from them and deeper into the jungle, cautious not to trip on any roots or vines, which covered the forest floor like snakes.
I heard Arwen gently assuage the prince and I marched farther through the symphony of chattering monkeys and exotic birds.
“More or less than three days before I decapitate him?” I asked Griffin as I slapped at a greedy mosquito getting plastered on my forearm.
“That’s a wager I’d prefer not to win.”
He was right. If Fedrik had any chance of convincing his parents to fight alongside us, he was worth something to me alive.
Behind us Arwen’s laugh rang out alongside the resonant hoot of a toucan. I squinted into the tangle of trees above us for the creature—anything to avoid watching Fedrik make her smile—but only made out a kaleidoscope of leaves, like stained emerald glass. The morning sun was already beginning to filter through, and the heat brought moisture to my back and neck. We couldn’t hike now and risk heatstroke. “Shall we go find a lagoon while we wait for nightfall? I’m already sweating like a pig.”
Griffin sighed, looking back at the rest of our party. “Do we trust Fedrik to protect them?”
My eyes landed on our group, setting up camp. Mari ordered Arwen and Fedrik to hold a canvas tarp higher, and then even higher still, and then more to the left, and then evenmoreto the left. I cut a glance to my friend—his eyes on the witch were almost pained.
I wondered how long Griffin would let his aversion to intimacy stop him from pursuing her. The fact that he’d not had a single romantic relationship since I’d known him told me not to hold my breath. Still, witnessing him struggle with his duty to protect his king and his urge to never leave Mari’s side was wretched even as a bystander. “Fine. Stay with them.”
“No way.” Griffin’s brows pulled in with distaste. “I’m coming with you. Someone has to have your back. You’re the king of Onyx—I think you forget it sometimes.”
The whirl of earthy wind pulled our attention back to the campsite, and we watched as all three tents built themselves with ease. The canvas grew taut, bags and packs emptied themselves, and pallets unfurled next to a laundry line, which strung itselfbetween tree trunks. A thin chalk outline drew itself around our tents and campfire. Mari murmured her spell, copper hair flying about her face, until the dirt and leaves settled and we beheld a well-furnished campsite.
Mari appraised her handiwork, lovingly grazing Briar’s jewel around her neck.
“You think there’s any chance that amulet has the kind of magic she thinks it does?” Griffin asked under his breath.
“No,” I said. “Not that I know of.”
“It’s messing with her head,” he muttered. “She’s too attached to the thing.”
“Nice work,” Fedrik said to the witch.
“Oh, it’s nothing. You two needed the help.”
“What’s the white circle?” Arwen asked, looking at the boundary Mari drew.
“A cloaking ward. Our camp won’t be visible to anyone outside the chalk. Like Amber soldiers, bounty hunters, bandits, pirates, wild jungle cats, Lazarus—”
“That’s enough, thanks.” Arwen swallowed hard. “I see the value.”
Mari smiled sheepishly.
