Page 151 of The Last One
She nods and goes back to arranging our sleeping area.
I turn back to my bags to see Jadon watching me, his eyes soft and unreadable.
“Yes?” I ask him, the heat in my cheeks rising.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, pushing back whatever emotion had dared to peek out from behind the door. “Let’s get Veril settled.”
Together, Jadon and I help the Renrian toddle over to a soft patch of grass. Jadon’s fingers brush mine as we brace Veril from both sides. His touch feels like small bolts of lightning striking my hand, and as we set Veril down, thatzapdies before its energy zigzags to my knees.
Despite our squabbles and declarations, my body still reacts to him. Despite everything, his touch still slows the bedlam fighting its way into my heart.
Once we finish with Veril, I wobble to the creek, queasy, tired, and hungry, my cheek still smarting from the aburan’s swipe. I have brought a bar of lemon-mint soap and the bottle of lavender oil that Veril gave me before my proper bath in his giant tub. I quickly undress.
The water is cold but clean and clear, so clear it may not even exist. Just pebbles and little fish that appear to dart through air. I wet my hair, appreciating the cold water pinching my scalp. After quickly washing my hair, I drag my fingers through my curls to divide my locks to make two braids. I sway as my fingers work, and I lean against a boulder to keep myself upright. I must be more exhausted than I thought.
After dressing, I join my companions and sit as close to the warmth as possible, storing the heat and the memory of fire for those coming days we may be without either.
Veril has prepared a small pot of lentils and leeks and has set it atop the fire.
Jadon skewers more ham chunks and places them over the flames. His hair is damp, clearly from his own creek-bath, and his cowlicks swirl like whipped cream across his scalp. He and I lock eyes across the fire.
“Thank you, Jadon,” I say. “For your help back there with the aburan. You didn’t have to do that. You could’ve let me become…Kai nuggets.”
With a soft smile, he peers into the flames. “I hear they taste like chicken.”
“I go best with a lighter wine,” I add.
Philia snickers. “But you can’t eat too many. Causes gout.”
I pick at the fat around my slice of ham. “Gout?I’d like to think I’m more like…chronic heartburn. That’s sexier thangout.”
My companions laugh. Jadon stretches out his legs, more relaxed than before.
Maybe Jadon was right about us not going further in our…whatever we are. Because after we rescue Olivia, he has to take her and Philia back to Pethorp—that is, if Gileon Wake hasn’t burned it down—and I’ll head to Mount Devour, and who knows what I’ll face there. Jadon and Iwillhave to separate, which will already be hard. A stronger connection would be distracting, and distractions kill focus. A lack of focus would allow anything and anyone to sneak up on me and end me right where I stood. I stare at the flames licking the bottom of Veril’s pot and sigh. Yes, emotional distance will help protect us with our soon-to-be and inevitable physical distance.
I take big bites of my ham sandwich, closing my eyes to savor this meal. The meat tastes sweet and salty, and the warm fat soaks into the hard bread. Two glugs of wine make my cheeks buzz, and long sips of water clear my mind. My muscles ache, but soon food and wine and a lavender tonic from Veril dull that pain.
“We leave at dawn,” Jadon says, finishing his meal.
I leave the fire to go lie on the only other patch of grass. My eyes go heavy even as they track a star burning across the sky.
Behind me, Philia tucks our plates away as Veril covers the leftover lentils in the pot. The old man shuffles over to his bedroll and says, “See you at dawn.”
Philia climbs into her bedroll and falls asleep before she can say, “Good night.”
“May I?” Jadon asks, gesturing to the area next to me.
“Sure.” The queasiness returns—I’m nervous and filled with dread because not only could this result in a…distraction, it could also end in another disagreement, and I’m too tired to fight, and I’m too tired to even want to hear his thoughts.
Jadon reclines on the grassy patch beside me. Like me, he’s wine-wasted and ham-heavy.
Together, we watch the sky in silence.
“I didn’t set out to keep you in the dark,” I say. “I tried to tell you all I’d learned. But—”
“But I fucked it up.” He chuckles.
“You fucked it up, yes.” I pull at the clover around me.
