Page 36 of Across an Endless Sea

Caed’s shoulders stiffen. “Hold my arm,” he orders. “If you fall over the parapet and die…”

“You’ll have to retrieve me again,” I retort. “Yes, I know. My dying is such an inconvenience.”

His arm remains outstretched in the space between us, and I just know he’s going to stay where he is until I take it… but still.

“Your armbands,” I mutter, glaring at the iron rings that climb up the full length of both his arms. There must be half a dozen on each side. Some are plain, but a few are etched with sharp, geometric designs.

He rolls his eyes and flips his gloved hand over, offering his palm instead.

Hand holding with Caed? I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I know my plan was to win him over, but there’s still a good chance he might still be responsible for my brother’s death. Part of me—the part which longs for him to redeem himself—is screaming that I should just put my smaller hand in his and allow him to lead me along.

We have to convince him,she screams.This is our Guard. Our soulmate. Weneedhim.

My brother’s fate, the war, and my still-healing burns hang in the air between us like an invisible wall. Perhaps if it were just me who was injured, I might’ve forgiven already. My wounds are mostly healed, and I’m all too aware that my heart is traitorous enough to love people in spite of whatever pain they cause me. I still loved my human father, even after his accident, when he was no longer the man I once knew.

But overcoming what Caed’s done to Florian? To my Guard? That’s a whole lot harder.

The longer we wait like this, the more my reticence becomes obvious, and the more rigid the lines of his body become.

“Fine. Fall for all I care.” He twists, striding away.

I hurry after him, only to trip and fall over my own feet.

“Shit—” My arms windmill in empty air as I try to prevent the impending splat.

His hand grabs my arm before I can face-plant, hauling me up. Those powerful fingers keep hold of my elbow, steering me to his side. The leather of his gloves does nothing to mute the telltale buzz that accompanies touching one of my Guard. There’s no escaping this time as he releases me, only to take my hand. Caed ignores my struggles and pulls me along, keeping my hand hostage.

There’s a smug aura around him that practically screams ‘I told you so’, and I want to snarl at him for it.

Fortunately for my pride, I’m very easily distracted, and Fellgotha is nothing if not distracting.

“Prae has her workshop in the farthest wing of the fortress,” Caed mutters, dutifully playing tour guide. “She hates almost everyone, so it works for her. Word of warning, never open the door to her workshop without peeking around it first. You never know when she’s testing something dangerous.”

I nod, but don’t offer him any other conversation as we pass under a vicious portcullis and descend a flight of uneven stairs with an iron rail I instinctively shy away from.

Everything in this goddess-forsaken castle seems riddled with the metal, and I notice more and more of it as Caed gives me the world’s briefest tour. He keeps us to the battlements, away from the Fomorians milling below.

Is that to protect me from them, or to stop me from causing trouble?

“Is there a library?” I ask, as he points out the third armoury.

Perhaps, if I can find it, I can start to learn their language. Or maybe I can find primers on Fae so I can continue my learning. At least it would give me something to do in between whatever torture Elatha has planned for me.

He stops and stares at me. “Fomorians don’t have time for bedtime stories, little queen.”

No books?

Damn.

“Our language doesn’t even have a written form,” he shrugs. “The few of us who can read Fae use that, and only when it’s necessary.”

Oh.

“How do you keep track of your history?” I ask. “What about records?”

He shrugs. “There are a handful of elders who know most of our history; the rest of us are too busy with the present to bother with the past. Fighting is more fun than memorising a list of glorious deeds the Ancestors accomplished.”

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