Chapter 37
I awake to the midday hustle and bustle of camp with my stomach demanding to be fed. I ask the soldier stationed outside my tent what the fuss is about, but all I get in return is a blank stare.
My first instinct is to find Acker. It’s a thought before I even realize it’s there, the tether more prominent than ever. It tugs below my breastbone. I look south, in the direction it wants me to go, and turn in the opposite direction. I don’t know where Messer is … but it’d be nice to have an internal compass that leads to him instead.
I amble through the camp until I spot soldiers with food in their hands and follow the trail back to an open-air kitchen. There’s a line, but I’m hesitant to join it. Unwelcome stares and turned backs greet me, but I spent the better part of my life secluded in the far reaches of Alaha. I’ve been gossiped about and shamed for being an outsider, and I sure as hell am not going to let history repeat itself. Plus, I’m hungry.
I step into place despite the glowers. The line is long, but it seems to move quickly. The man in front of me looks over his shoulder as if offended. I’m determined to not let them affect me, so I smile at the soldier, only for him to turn back around without returning the gesture.
Rude.
“It’s quite the spectacle,” Beau says, sidling up next to me. If the men behind me have an issue with her cutting in, they don’t voice it.
“What is?”
She’s smiling, but her eyes never stop roving, absorbing as she peruses the comings and goings of the camp. “Seeing them nervous around
someone other than me for once.”
“I think you’re confusing outright disdain with nerves.”
She laughs, and the soldier before us looks over once again, this time to be met with Beau’s disarming smile in place of mine. It stuns him, eyes growing wide as a flush fills the high points of his cheeks, and he hurries to
turn back around once again.
“Trust me when I say they’re bluffing.”
We shuffle forward in line. “And how are you able to discern such things?” I ask casually.
“I see auras,” she says. “Like … colors?”
She waves a hand in the air, causing the metal loops around her shoulders to clink together. “Sometimes it’s colors, sometimes it’s vibrations. There’s not any record of anyone having this gift before, so there’s no name for it. I just call it an aura because it’s the easiest for others to understand.”
I nod like it makes sense to me, but it doesn’t. I don’t want to scare her off.
It’s our turn to receive our rations, and I’m pleasantly surprised to find it’s pulled pork with a honied biscuit. There’s a water station nearby and Beau fills her waterskin from the barrel. She offers to share with me. We find an overturned log to sit on while we eat, a little away from the camp’s center.
Despite my hunger, I can’t stomach more than half my portion before setting it down.
Beau nudges me with her shoulder. “Ask me anything,” she says, sensing my apprehension. Or seeing it, I suppose.
She presents a believable picture of an open book. It’s either because she feels like she has to be one, considering what she’s able to discern from everyone around her, or because she just doesn’t perceive boundaries the same way the rest of us do.
“Last night,” I say, unsure if I even want to know. “You saw something between Acker and me…”
There’s a curiosity in the way she tilts her head to look at me. “The majority of human interactions I see are benign. There’s not a lot of overlap
between friends or acquaintances or, say, someone you bump into in passing. But if there’s strong emotion emanating from one or both people, it can flare in their aura.”
“You’re saying you saw Acker’s aura … flare?”
“More than that,” she says with a glint in her eyes. “I saw it merge with yours.”
Her description makes it feel very intrusive.
“Acker’s aura has always had a subdued quality to it. He has such acute colors with hardly any blemishes or waver to them, but they’ve always been muted, like viewing them through frosted glass,” she explains. “That is until last night, when I saw the connection between the two of you. You two are
most definitely fated.”
“I don’t know what any of that means.”
“What is it about the Bond that unsettles you?”
“Truthfully? I’m sick of having no say in my life.” There’s release in finally voicing my thoughts out loud, in telling someone of the bitterness that has been eating away at me over time.
“But you do,” she says, smiling at me like I’m silly. “A Matching Bond is just that—a bond. It doesn’t dictate anything you feel or do.” She throws a hand out in front of her. “Pretend the Bond doesn’t exist if you’d prefer.”
“Don’t the … colors … or whatever reveal all truths or something?”
“It doesn’t work like that because humans don’t work like that.” I’m growing frustrated with the lack of well-defined answers.
“I can tell you Acker feels a great affection for you, if that’s what you want to hear,” she says half-heartedly with a shrug. “I can tell you he adores you and is proud you’re his match, but it doesn’t solve your real concern, now, does it?”
I can’t discern if she’s being sincere or not. While the majority of me wishes for those things to be true, they don’t appease the anxiety gnawing at my insides.
“What is it you see when you look at me?”
Her smile is equal parts empathetic and pitying. “I’d be doing you a disservice by telling you.”
I’m somehow not surprised by her refusal to answer.
“Human emotions are fickle, Jo. Yours, mine, Acker’s. They’re nothing but a wave in the ocean. What really matters is what you decide to do with them.” As quick as she imparts those words of wisdom, she points to my half-eaten breakfast and asks, “Are you going to eat that?”
I huff out a breath of laughter and shake my head. “It’s all yours.”
We sit and watch the men as they meander about. She talks of how they’re scared of me, but there’s a noticeable unease when they see Beau, They don’t look anywhere near as uncomfortable when Acker walks through the camp.
Two soldiers, braver than all the others, sneak glances at us as they walk by. It’s a different sort of attention but not any less menacing, especially when they break into laughter once we’re out of earshot.
“What was that about?” I ask her.
She leans in close. “When it comes to men, Jo, it’s best to just assume
the worst.”
Well, that’s not reassuring.
Raised voices begin to carry over the regular chatter of the men like a tidal wave over the camp, growing in volume before crashing through the soldiers around us an uproar. Men reach for their armor and weapons while others forgo them altogether and simply make a run for it.
South. They’re running south.
Without speaking, Beau and I take off at a sprint. I ready my blade at my side. Beau’s two steps ahead, metal rope coiling in hand as she darts between the tents. She’s fast, so fast I struggle to keep up. I’m out of shape from the weeks at sea, not to mention the drain of my awakening and the Dark Forest ordeal. I’m panting by the time we make it to the commotion.
Beau steps through the line of bodies standing on the outskirts of camp.
The hillside dips, giving a wide view of the border. There are no clear markings to show where one land ends and the next begins, as on a map, but there are two men on horseback turning away from Kenta and back toward Roison, lowering their white flag as they retreat. Acker watches them go.
As he marches back up the hillside to the waiting band of soldiers, the wind lashes at his hair and clothes, and it only serves to outline the strength
in his build. As if he can feel the appreciation in my gaze, his head whips
up, eyes locking on mine.
Acker is my Match.
The finality of that statement sends a spark through my chest. I can’t tell which emotion takes precedence—fear or excitement. Both war inside me.
He speaks with Rango, Hallis, and a couple of other men I don’t recognize before dismissing the band of gathered soldiers. I can’t tell if the consensus amongst those departing is one of relief or disappointment. I spot a few sour faces.
Acker’s stare lands on me as he approaches. “That was Jorgen, Sven’s father,” he says. “When Sven never returned home from the tavern after that day we left, he suspected Sven had learned of a bounty on our heads and
come after us.”
“Did you … tell him?”
He nods, remorseful. “He’s upset, understandably. I promised to have the remains returned to him.”
“It’s a big risk to send a man into Roison just to give a grieving father solace,” Beau comments.
“I owe his wife a life debt of saving Jovie’s life,” he explains. “It’s the least I can do.”
Beau shakes her head, looking toward the border. “I’ll leave you to decide which man you’re sentencing to death.”
“I have to send a scouting team regardless, so it’s neither here nor there,” Acker says, scrubbing a hand along his jaw. “Jorgen warned of a spreading rumor. The people are of the belief that we—Kenta—have destroyed the Dark Forest in order to get unfettered access to their border.”
“You have been openly distributing men all along the boundary,” Beau says. “What else are they to expect?”
“It’s a lose-lose situation,” Hallis butts in. “If we don’t move our men, it leaves us vulnerable.”
Beau doesn’t seem pacified by this assessment.
“It’s only a matter of time before Chryse sends his own troops this way,” he continues, looking at Beau. “The number of men he sends will determine if we need to remain passive or actively on the defense.”
Messer’s voice cuts in from behind me. “I’ll go.”
I turn and find him looking better than I’ve ever seen him before. His hair and skin have a glow to them that enhances his appearance. The shock of it sort of takes my breath away for a moment. If the girls back in Alaha thought he was handsome before, they’d be dying to see him now that he’s on land.
When I look back at Acker, he’s not looking at Messer. He’s looking at me, but drags his attention away when I catch his eye. If he’s surprised by Messer’s offer, he doesn’t show it.
“Are you sure?” Hallis asks. “Roison is littered with deserters and bounty hunters, on top of their ever-moving military.”
“I know the danger,” Messer says, smile turning teasing. “Consider it a step toward building that trust Acker is so keen on developing.”
Acker nods once. “You’re better equipped to go undetected than anybody we can send. Could you be ready to go by nightfall?”
Hands clamp onto my shoulders, and I suppress the knee-jerk reaction to flinch. Messer gives me a squeeze and I realize he’s baiting Acker, testing his reaction.
Another squeeze. “I’m at your disposal,” Messer says.
Acker isn’t dumb. He knows Messer’s playing with him. He looks up from the fingers Messer is drumming against my clavicle with a renewed sharpness. “Great. You can start by retrieving the carcass.”
All eyes fly toward the skeletal remnants of the Dark Forest in the distance and the blur of scavengers circling overhead.
“If you hurry, you might beat the maggots,” he smarts.
Hallis’s grin mirrors his friend’s. “Can’t say the same for the smell, however.”
Undeterred, Messer gives me another little shake before releasing me.
“Do me a favor, would ya?” he says, eyes overflowing with glee.
“Yeah. Sure,” I drag out.
He strips out of his shirt and hands it to me. “Hold these for me? I don’t want the smell of rotting flesh to soil them before I head out on my death quest.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before undoing his pants and jerking them down. I avert my eyes, face coloring with embarrassment.
I feel more than see him place his trousers on top of the shirt in my open hand.
Careful to keep my eyes above his chest, I glare at him. “Not funny.”
Neither the stripping nor the joke about his possible imminent demise.
“On the contrary,” Beau says, smiling from ear to ear. “I find him rather hilarious.”
He basks in her compliment, winking at me a moment before he sprouts wings, snapping into the familiar form of Blue in the blink of an eye. He shoots into the sky, a smattering of black feathers raining down behind him.
A nearby soldier shouts his dismay, unintelligible but clearly horrified about the eyun, and I can’t help but smile at the fact that they are all so stupidly frightened about so many things even though they’re supposed to
be big, bad warriors.
Beau and I share a knowing smile.
