Chapter 38
Any nerves I have evaporate at the sight of Acker’s easy grin. He strokes the neck of the mare he’s holding the reins of, eyes bright as I draw near.
There’s a peaceful quality to him today. It reminds me of our time on the boat. Everything was simpler when it was just the two of us. Even so, distrust lingers in me from constantly being left in the dark.
“Where are the other horses?” Beau says, eyeing the two before us.
Acker holds his hand out to help me onto the horse. “The battalion needs as much muscle as they can to break camp.”
She narrows her eyes at Acker. “Then I’m riding with Jo.”
But he’s already pulling himself onto the blanket behind me. “Hallis and I won’t fit together. It is what it is, Beau,” he says. “I don’t make the rules.”
Gritting her teeth, she all but stomps over to Hallis, who’s smirking like the devil he is. “You do,” she says, slapping away Hallis’s offer of a helping hand. “It’s your monarchical sovereignty. You literally make the rules.”
I know her plight all too well, being frustrated by the orders given by sons under their fathers’ sovereign rule.
Once she is situated on the horse, Hallis leans forward, lips a hair’s breadth away from her ear, and says, “I promise I won’t bite.”
“Oh yeah?” She bristles, elbowing him in the ribs. “I might.”
His smile becomes more of a grimace as he rubs the tender spot with his hand. “It’s going to be a long three days.”
I dare a look at Acker over my shoulder, and his eyes fall to meet mine.
The anger I’ve been harboring dims at the sight of him so close. From the line of his brow to his full lips, I’m entranced by his beauty.
I hate it. Especially his smell, like crisp air and woods with a hint of something sweet.
“Are you ready?” he says, eyes roving over me, assessing.
Am I? It’s hard to see past the thought of spending the next three days on this horse with him, but when I stop and focus, excitement buzzes inside me. There’s hope that whatever lies before me is better than what lies
behind me.
“I think so.”
He smiles, a hint of teeth peeking through. “Good. Every princess should know how to properly ride a horse.” He takes my hand and places the reins in my palm, tightening his grip on my wrist briefly before letting go. A small act of encouragement, but there’s a sensual edge to it, a slow
glide of his fingertips from my skin.
Or maybe it’s just all in my head.
“Show me what you’ve learned,” he says.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“You paid attention when we left the healer’s,” he says. “Every time I tightened or pulled on the reins, you made note of it. I saw you. You can do this.”
I stare at the leather straps in my grasp, unsure of what to do. “I was just staring at your hands,” I say, the truth escaping my mouth before I realize.
He leans to the side so he can get a better look at my face. “You what?”
I can’t stop the blush from stinging my cheeks, and I shrug. “You have nice hands.”
His smile grows until it’s pure brass, and I roll my eyes, knowing I’ve just started something I’m never going to hear the end of.
Beau speaks under her breath, but it carries with the wind. “It’s going to be a very, very long trip.”
Acker is gracious enough to let it go—for now—and gives me basic instructions on how to steer a horse, when to tighten the reins and when give slack and adjust across the neck.
The camp is now a quarter of the size it was when we arrived, just a handful of tents huddled in the large area of flattened and muddied earth.
Acker lifts a hand in farewell to the soldiers who remain. We descend the
hill and move up to the next crest, where Acker instructs me to tug the reins
low, stopping us.
Hallis lets out a low whistle.
Below us, trees without leaves and white as bone stretch as far as the eye can see. The exposed forest floor looks like snow, a blanket of bright ash. Like a pale birthmark marring the earth, a stark contrast to the rich, dark colors of the woods and grass surrounding it. A forest, once dark, now light.
“You did that,” Acker says, voice low, as if he’s speaking to himself.
The magnitude of it hits me like a physical blow. I sink further in the saddle, my weight supported by Acker’s chest as I come to grips with the power that’s been tingling in my fingertips for days now.
Without another word, we depart in the opposite direction. With the enemy at our backs, we kick off into a canter, whipping across the grassland in a way we couldn’t through Roison’s wooded valley. Acker keeps my hands in his as he helps me lead the horse. As we get further away from the border, I remind myself that Messer will meet us at the palace in a fortnight, that he will survive.
We keep the swift pace for the better half of the day, until we’re forced to slow by the changing terrain, descending from grassland into a rocky ravine speckled with boulders. It creates a bottleneck effect, and Beau and Hallis are forced to ride behind us. The horse does most of the work by herself, but Acker’s hands stay tight on mine as I hold the reins, legs tense as we traverse the uneven ground. Trees shroud this crack in the earth, casting shadows over us. It’s a nice reprieve from the heat.
Beau’s voice distorts as it reverberates off the winding cliffside, followed by Hallis’s deeper tone.
“What do you think they’re arguing about?” Acker says, voice rough
from the hours of unuse.
“Breathing.”
He chuckles softly. “They’ve been like this since they were kids. I should probably feel worse than I do about pairing them together.”
“So why did you?”
“Sadistic pleasure,” he says, not the least bit repentant. “But really, I just wanted you with me.”
I don’t know how to reply to his confession, so I don’t, but I note the sharp sensation his words elicit.
“To the left,” he directs, showing me how to position the reins to steer the horse to the left of a downed tree branch.
Beau’s voice carries over the sound of the horse’s hooves on the rocks, a sharp insult ending their bickering, punctuating the resounding silence that follows.
“Okay, I feel a little terrible,” he says. I snicker.
“No you don’t.”
After a few moments of quiet, he says, “You’re no longer angry with
me.” It comes out more like a question.
I let out a breath. “I don’t know.”
I don’t feel angry until I think about it. Then it burns that he kept the truth from me, but I can see his reasoning. I try to imagine him revealing our Bond to me during different points of our … situation … and I can’t find one where my reaction would have been any different. I’m fairly certain it would have been worse, actually.
The best I can do is garner more information. “When did you know?” I ask.
“Honestly, I think I knew when we were kids,” he says, surprising me.
“You always had these big emotions as a young girl and—” He stops to gather his thoughts, to figure out how to describe them. He lets go of the reins, and I turn enough to see him place his palm to his chest. “I swore I could feel them.” His eyes are alight with the memory.
His description makes me sad. For the girl he’s speaking of, a girl I don’t know, and for the boy who thought he lost his match. He doesn’t return his hand to the reins, letting it rest where our thighs meet instead.
“But I knew for sure when I placed your hand on the stone wall. I felt your magic then and I knew it matched with mine. Any remaining doubts disappeared when I started to see into your mind, when you were drawing in your hammock on the ship back to Alaha.”
I sketched a lot of the same thing during the trip back from the Market —the blade. Over and over and over. Until I got back, when my obsession switched from the inanimate object to him. “You saw me drawing my memory of you from the Market,” I say.
“You seemed to struggle getting my lips just right,” he says, teasing me.
I roll my eyes to mask my mild embarrassment. “Can you control the visions?”
“No. I’ve tried to get in while you’re not drawing, with no luck,” he says. “You?”
“I can get out, but I don’t have much of a choice as to when I get pulled in.” I debate what to reveal to him, but I suppose it’s best to go ahead and get it all out in the open at this point. “I think physical contact heightens the connection.”
He takes a deep breath. “The Matching Bond is cloaked in mystery, because it’s so rare. Throughout the centuries, the bloodlines between Heirs have become diluted. While magic has become more frequent amongst the commoners, the spread has weakened the potency of the magic overall, lessening the likelihood of matches being made. There are so few who have it, and those who do keep it under lock and key. The Bond brings certain advantages people wouldn’t want divulged to their enemies, but there is someone who may give us some answers in the capitol. For a price, that is.”
“In Alaha, they made it seem like it was chosen, like a marriage pact.”
“There are tales of Matches being common, once upon a time, but they were never chosen. That’s something Wren twisted to further control his people and to ensure the right bloodlines continue.”
We scrape by a wall of stone, misshapen and jutting from the hillside, and we duck to avoid a low overhang. The passage is narrow. Our legs bear the brunt of the squeeze at the tightest section before we’re through.
Then my breath stalls in my chest at the sight before us. We’re in a shallow valley filled with purple flowers, the stalks tall enough to reach our calves, even as high as we are mounted on the horse. The fragrance I’ve been catching on the breeze for miles quadruples in potency.
“Can we—”
Before I’m done asking, Acker has dismounted, landing on his feet in one smooth motion. I follow suit, a tad less gracefully.
Careful as I step between the flowers, I brush my fingers across the petals, relishing their silky texture. The tallest reach my waist now that I’m on the ground. Bees and other insects fly to and fro, buzzing by without concern for the giant stepping into their domain.
As I get further and further into the valley, it opens up on one side, revealing a view of rolling green hills that transform into mountains in the distance, white-capped and jagged as they point to the sky. The world, bigger than I ever could have imagined. It’s breathtaking. Moisture coats my eyelashes as I try to take in every detail.
The swishing of grass turns my attention to Acker as he approaches. He holds up a parcel of food, waterskin in his other hand.
“Figured we could eat while we rest,” he says.
Over his shoulder, I spot Beau and Hallis breaching the rock overpass, both with sour faces. Acker sees them too and tugs me to the ground with him, finger pressed to his lips. Hidden from sight, we hear them arguing over who’s riding in the back for the rest of the trip. Beau asks where we are, which Hallis must ignore because silence follows until we hear Beau tell Hallis to eat shit when he asks for a share of her lunch.
Acker and I snicker. He lies on his side, torso propped up on an elbow, and hands me the food wrapped in wax paper. I fold my legs underneath me and unwrap the— I gasp at the cut red berries and cheese. “I haven’t had strawberries in years,” I say as I pick up a slice. The tartness of the fruit overwhelms my taste buds, and I eat a sliver of cheese to combat it. “Where did you get these?”
Acker picks a berry from the bunch, pops it in his mouth, and chews.
“Bartered with a soldier. His mother is an earth elemental and sends him the
best care packages.”
“Lucky him.”
“Lucky us,” he says, taking more.
We savor the shared meal and take turns swigging water. My eyes go to the mountains in the distance. I’m amazed by how clearly you can tell the
temperature difference between there and here, just by looking.
“I’ve never felt snow.”
He follows my line of sight. “You did as a child. Maile is just beyond those mountains.”
It seems so far away and yet so close at the same time. I shove the cap back on the water, and when I look up, I find Acker staring at me, eyes like molten ore. It feels intentional as he continues to observe me from mere feet away.
“Will you put your nose ring back in?” I say to break the intensity.
I don’t know if it’s polite to ask, but he doesn’t seem surprised or offended by my question. “Do you think I should?”
I shrug, pretending to be impartial.
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe I will.”
I know we shouldn’t waste daylight, but I move to lie next to him, and he extends his arm for me to use as a pillow without a word passing between us. I roll onto my side so I can look at him. He does the same, mirroring my position. My cheek is propped against his forearm, his other arm draped over the curve of my waist. This is how we slept on the boat, but it somehow feels more intimate on dry land. Maybe it’s just because I’m aware of the Matching Bond.
Or maybe it’s because there’s plenty of space around us, and we don’t need to be huddled so close together anymore, yet … here we are.
I touch the spot where the V lies underneath his shirt. “You, Hallis, and three more?”
There’s a look in his eyes I can’t decipher, a heat that’s in direct contradiction to our conversation. “You can count,” he says, playfully pinching me in the side.
I manage to shove Acker’s hand away from my ribs but instead of fighting back, he spears his fingers through mine, interweaving them together between us. His plan all along, no doubt.
We fall into silence, letting the buzzing of bees and cradle of flowers create a private cocoon around us. There’s still so much unsaid, but none of it feels important right now. I can’t recall the last time I felt more at peace.
There’s a small voice trying to break through the haze, trying to remind me of all he’s withheld from me, but I shove it away.
It’s not until I feel Acker’s fingers threading through my hair that I realize I’ve dozed off.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Get up,” Hallis barks, face lined with frustration, so much so I’m halfway convinced he’s never experienced joy in his life … ever.
“Good gods,” Acker rumbles, squinting up at his friend through his own sleepiness. “Half a day of sharing a horse and you’re already cracking.”
“If you two weren’t busy napping, you would have noticed the change in weather.”
As if on cue, the sky falls on us. Rain pours down despite the sun shining from behind nearby white clouds, and we jump up to make a run for cover, aiming for the trees toward the bottom of the valley. Hallis cuts in the opposite direction, helping Beau get the horses.
It’s a futile attempt to avoid getting soaked, evident in the grass and stray petals littering Acker’s hair and skin, the fabric of his shirt clinging to his chest. He reaches out and plucks a leaf from my braid, holding it up for me to see, but I’ve only got eyes for him. He lets the leaf flutter to the ground between us. All I can think about is what the water dripping from his hair must taste like on his wet lips as he licks them.
He takes a step closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him.
“Jovie…” he whispers, bringing his fingertips to my cheek.
But the pounding of horse hooves forces us apart as Hallis and Beau get closer, looking even wetter than we are, and angry. Both of them.
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to be easing up anytime soon,” Acker says, eyes lingering on me before looking toward them. “Let’s go ahead and set up camp for the night. We’ll get an early start in the morning.”
It’s very apparent Hallis is unhappy about the turn of events, but he’s smart enough not to voice it, not after Acker’s remark about him cracking.
Beau dismounts and wrings out her hair. “Hallis needed a shower anyway.” I swear I can almost hear Hallis’s teeth grinding in irritation.
