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She pulled her chin down, touching it with her fingers as if it were suddenly much larger. “We assign ages based on maturity,” she defended, protecting her wounded pride with a matter-of-fact tone. “That is the onlyage that matters. If we knew our actual ages, we might feel inclined to judge others based on those numbers.”
“Now you can just judge one another’s judgments of your maturity.”
Clea threw her hands down by her sides, shoulders locked and rolled back. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s designed to foster respect for wisdom.”
“You assign ages to give yourselves the illusion of aging. It’s a petty grab for life so you can avoid the reality that most of you die in your twenties and thirties anyway. Did they pull your number out of a hat?”
“You can’t be much older than I am. What makes you so world-worn and wise?” Clea quickened her pace so that she walked beside him.
His stoic face permitted the slightest, wicked smile. “You would be surprised, Princess.”
She raised her eyebrows, one hand locking onto her hip. “Oh, really? Would I?”
“Yes, but I think most things would surprise someone like you.” He lifted a hand to his chin in an imitation of thoughtfulness. “You know, I don’t recall getting to know one another as a part of our deal.”
“You seem quite insistent on giving strictly no more than what you promised and criticizing me heavily in the process. I understand I ask much of you, but you call yourself a patriot, and yet you treat this great feat with disdain,” she shot back ona tight breath.
He hoisted himself onto a ridge of roots, holding onto a nearby branch as he scanned the path ahead. As if it were an afterthought, he replied, “I lied to you. I am most definitely not a patriot. I didn’t care in the least about the king. In fact, there is nothing I detest more than this country, and what is to become of it is none of my concern.”
Clea stared, mouth agape. She was surprised at his lie, but even more so at his indifference. “But this is the only country left. The rest of the world is just the Wraithlands!”
“And that means I should care?” He continued on beyond the ridge.
“Y—” She stopped, processing his question, poised to hoist herself up after him. “Wait, of course. Yes. That’s exactly why you should care.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Then why are you helping me?” She resisted the urge to raise her voice, sorting through her confusion as she followed him through unstable terrain. “This is only for money? You don’t care if you could save people’s lives?”
Ryson seemed to pick up the pace as if he were trying to escape her optimism. “The less people, the better.”
“I must admit this is the first time I have met a creature that is so hateful,” she said, nearly stumbling over another root as she ducked a low hanging branch. A wiry limb whipped her in the thigh as it angled over Ryson’s passing form.
She stifled a sound as she rubbed her thigh.
“Well, I’m flattered. Malice is a fine old friend of mine.”
“I also have not met many beings so willing to admit their flaws,” she continued as she limped after him.
“Perhaps I don’t think it’s a flaw. Can you stop talking? I can’t think when you talk,” he shot back.
Her hurrying, limping foot caught a root and she tripped, nearly falling onto his back before she managed to catch herself on his shoulder.
He stopped moving, turning his head over his shoulder with an unforgiving stare.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Next time, ask for permission,” he said dryly.
“That really hurt your pride, didn’t it?” she replied as she removed her hand. “I bet you’re not used to asking for anything, are you?”
“I find it wholly degrading to ask for permission for something that revolts me in the first place,” he snapped and continued forward again.
It took Clea a moment to absorb the full implications of his quick reply, her jaw dropping slightly as she watched him go. At least she didn’t look like she’d been buried in the woods for fifty years and then dug out of the ground by wild animals. She contemplated the insult as she looked at the hand formerly onhis shoulder and wiped it on her pants. His clothes were dirty with holes eaten through. Even Alina in her impoverished state had the means to afford decent clothes. His clothing felt more like a choice, and it was a wonder he didn’t smell like anything beyond the woods themselves.
For a brief moment, she contemplated saying the insult out loud, but insults seemed to come much more naturally to him, and she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to hear his reply. Instead, she imagined her response playing out successfully in her head.
“I need you to listen to me,” Ryson spoke from ahead, urging her to catch up with him again. His voice adopted a renewed gravity, signaling that their topic of discussion was changing. “Other Veilin can’t protect you this time, Princess. Anything you fight, you meet face-to-face. You have never traveled far with that medallion before. This is going to test everything in you.”
