in the breeze. My eyes fell on the bed. The ruby gemstone of the Dragon’s Eye glinted against a white bedspread.
Matt followed my gaze to it. His expression hardened. “He’s not here.”
I met his eyes and held it. “You didn’t answer—what do we do if you get your powers back?”
Matt blinked. “It doesn’t matter right now.”
A shaft of air, the same insidious breeze that called my attention to the amulet, chilled my heated skin. Defeat filled me. The answer lay there. I hadn’t wanted to see it, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. Was I just asking for too much?
I hugged myself. “It matters to me, Matt.”
His lips thinned in irritation. “It doesn’t mean that I don’t care.”
“Really?” I forced my gaze off the hard curve of his lips. My heart breaking a little, I asked, “When was the last time you actually smiled at me? A real smile?”
He let out a breath. “Ryan—”
“Think on it, Matt,” I said softly. “And then, tell me you still care.”
CHAPTER 7 – IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF ALEXANDER, SON OF ZEUS
CHAPTER 7
IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF ALEXANDER, SON OF ZEUS
Adam’s Peak. Fifty-two hundred steps. Three hours of climbing uphill to get to the top. It took us four. Not because we stopped to enjoy one of the numerous bakeries or tea shops that lined the trail to enjoy a meal together—no, because it takes two people actually talking to each other to know when the other one has wandered off.
Even though the bed was comfortable, I didn’t get any sleep. I always figured when my heart fixed on someone there would be a sense of completion—instead I only got complication. Just the thought of Vane hurt. With Matt, I kept seeing the accusation in his gaze.
The flat steps were packed, even in the middle of the night, and especially during Vesak Poya season. Tourists and pilgrims flocked together up the mountain staircase. In the middle of the jungle, electric lights illuminated our path and chanting blared from loud speakers, creating an otherworldly atmosphere that was also heavily laden with incense.
Matt did a lot of backtracking down the trail to keep me in view as I enjoyed the sights—pocket villages, a few friendly dogs, statues of Buddha and Ganesha, along with small flags hung on ropes over the trail. I spent most of what little cash I had on the young children selling cheap souvenirs. Soon I had a collection of buttons, small flags, and stickers decorating my backpack.
Matt’s impatient looks and even the insistent sprinkling of rain failed to make me hurry. It’s not as if I was purposefully trying to irritate him, but I didn’t feel the need to cater to his wants either. Approaching the top, the rain worsened and I gripped the railings to keep steady on the slippery, wet stone steps. Matt pulled out two plastic ponchos from his bag of tricks. I pulled one over my burnt-orange fleece. The green cargos I wore weren’t completely waterproof, so my best hope was for them to dry quickly. Matt’s outfit showed more preparedness. He wore a lined, burnt-orange jacket and green hiking pants. Although it wasn’t planned, our colors matched. At least we complemented each other on some small level.
A few steps up, the scenery changed from jungle to cloud forest as the mist reflected various diaphanous shapes in the air. Graffiti marked the rocks with names and countries of origin of the former fellow travelers who’d come before us. Just before we reached the top, shivering from the gusts of wind, Matt picked up a few lotus flowers from a street vendor. For a second, I thought he’d bought them for me. When he tucked them into his shoulder bag, I told myself there was no pang of disappointment.
Scores of people crowded the last steps in the misting rain. Nearly at the summit, a screeching blackbird flew over us as we poured into two narrow buildings. The buildings stood on either side of the steps, packing us in like sardines in a tin.
I could barely perceive the outline of the tiered rooftop on the Buddhist temple clinging to the mountain’s peak. The triangular roof was said to match the perfect triangle of the mountain’s shadow. I clung to Matt’s hand to keep from falling.
Passing the crowd of shivering bodies, we finally emerged onto the narrow steps of a flat, white stone terrace. A huddle of buildings spanned the two levels of the summit. On the lower level were guest quarters