Page 35 of The Curse of Ophelia

But I’d had enough of their arguing for one evening. We had days ahead of us on this journey, so I pushed off the tree and moved to interrupt. “Jez is right, Tol. We should be on alert and not draw unnecessary attention. We can use a mystlight lantern, but a fire will be too noticeable.”

A frown cut across his face, but he dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. “Fine, I’ll set out the sleeping mats, then.” His black leathers hugged his lean muscles as he turned away.

Jez and I rolled our eyes at his male ego.

*

I discarded my weapons, folding my legs beneath me to join the circle of my friends around the lantern. But I kept Starfire and the spear close—just in case. Jezebel was right; much of Gallantia was a mystery. It was subject to the same magic we harnessed, but we knew not how the rivulets beneath the soil would be manipulated. At the source, the essence was a beautiful thing—raw and effervescent, promising and fickle—but it was wise to be wary of power.

I pulled my canteen from my bag and unscrewed the top, taking a deep swig of the burning liquid inside. It numbed the nerves that had been spreading through my body since we set up camp. The mares’ low breathing helped me calm my own.

“Can I have a sip?” Cyph asked, setting aside the map he’d been holding to the light, rechecking our route. “I drained mine when we settled and would prefer not to search for a stream in the dark.”

“This one’s not water.” I reached for my second canteen and passed it across the circle to him. The mystlight in the center cast a white-blue glow on his auburn hair as he nodded in thanks.

“Really?” Rina’s voice dripped with accusation.

“What?” I asked, but her scowl told me everything I needed to know.

“You’re going to drink out here?” Her sharp words dropped a silence over the group, and I felt the others tense.

I shrugged. “I only brought one canteen of it.” I’m dying anyway, I added to myself as the spot on my wrist, hidden beneath my leathers, burned.

But Rina’s narrowed eyes said it was not the amount that mattered. “Ophelia, you need your wits about you out here. You cannot spend every night drunk.”

My eyes rolled before I could stop them. “I took a sip to relax myself. I will not be inebriated.”

But I wrapped my hands tighter around the canteen. She didn’t understand. I needed this one source of warmth and comfort to support me when my mind went to a dark place, but I would not—would never—allow it to risk the success of our mission.

Anger as hot and fierce as I imagined the center of the Spirit Volcano to be rose within me at the accusation in her dark glare. How could she possibly believe I would ever jeopardize something so precious? I was the one who was given this task by Damien. I was the one who was going to complete the Undertaking. I was the only one who believed Malakai was still alive—who did not find that part of the mission pointless.

Rina’s eyes slid to my grip, then back to where I’d pulled my lip between my teeth to keep it from trembling. After a moment, she sighed. “You’re stronger than this. Please don’t go down that road.”

How dare she act as if this made me weak. I could admit it was a crutch, but I was anything but a fragile, shaky coward. To prove it, I uncurled my fingers from the canteen one by one, capped it, and tossed it to her.

“Fine, I’ll let you mother me. You can decide when I have it. Water it down as you always do.” I pushed myself to my feet and wiped my dirty hands on the thighs of my leathers to steady their trembling.

“I’ll take first watch.” I turned my back on their semicircle, but before I could take a step an arm wrapped around my waist. I was thrown over a strong shoulder, one hand gripping the back of my thighs to hold me in place.

“Vincienzo!” I roared, pounding on his muscled back. “Set me down.”

Tol dropped me to the dirt a few yards from our friends, looking down on me with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?” I shoved myself to my feet. “Hit you? You’re the one throwing me around.”

“Don’t run away.” His voice was low, a mixture of command and pleading that shot through me, but I shook it off.

“I’m fine to take the watch, Vincienzo.” I stepped away. “I’m not drunk.”

He didn’t break my stare but pressed the cold leather of Starfire’s grip into my palm. I hadn’t even seen him sweep her up.

“I understand that, Alabath,” his lips curled around my name tauntingly, like he knew what game we were playing, though I did not. He stepped back, removing his own sword, the blade hissing as it slid from its sheath. Beside it hung his Vincienzo family dagger—the one he’d received on his sixteenth birthday, the ornate V catching the mystlight. “If you want to fight, we’ll fight.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

His lips split into a grin. “That may just be my favorite phrase of yours.”

“That’s because you’re constantly giving me a reason to utter it.” The words were a growl through my clenched teeth.

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