Page 76 of Deadwood
“You won’t let it.”
My gaze jumped to him. “What?”
“You keep it flowing, and I’ll find us a way out.”
“I’m not sure what you?—”
He pinned me with his eyes, stopping me. “Let’s pretend we both know each other’s secrets right now.”
My brows pulled together. What werehissecrets?
“You know what I can do?” I asked as he went back to the wall and set his hands on it.
“Very aware,” he grumbled.
“What is yours, then?”
From the open end of the cave, an echo sounded, much like the same drip I’d heard before. Bowen’s head turned in that direction.
“Water might mean there’s a way out,” he said, ignoring my question.
I’d make it a goal of mine to figure out what his answer was before I left for Amosite.
“Or another way to die,” I snipped.
He crossed to me again. “Only one way to find out. Grab some of that.” He gestured to the amber liquid.
“Just…grab it?”
He nodded. “In your palm. It won’t hurt you unless you will it to.”
I lowered my hand to it, but rather than it allowing me to scoop it up, it flowed to me like I was a magnet. As it pooled in my palm, it tickled my skin, then warmed as it settled. I’d never seen it react like this outside of the vials, so I wasn’t sure exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.
“It likes you,” Bowen observed quietly.
I straightened, gently cupping the magic in my hand. It glowed through the cracks of my fingers, lighting our way. “I don’t thinkitknows what it’s doing.”
He began walking deeper into the cave. “Oh, it does.”
Again, the drip sounded, louder this time, which meant we were getting closer to whatever it was.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, not looking back at me as I followed.
“Are you?”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
“You’re being nice.”
We followed the tunnel, and the farther we got, the more persistent the drip became.
“I’ve been nothing but welcoming since you arrived in Deadwood,” he defended.
“You barged into my tent without warning,” I reminded him.
“If it makes you happy, Princess, I’ll knock from now on.”
Our boots echoed along with the drip, centuries of dust shuffling under our feet.
