we finally get to our destination. I still don’t know how he even managed to get a dress when he was locked up with male guards.
“I’d like that,” I reply, and to my surprise, I mean it. Shouldn’t I be repulsed at the thought of meeting more elves, the race that’s killing my people in the war? Guilt rises in me again, but I try to push it away, focusing on the here and now. Sitting back, I admire my handiwork. “There, all done.”
Nodding, Vaeril sits forward and pulls his shirt down. Placing everything into the pack, I shift and go to stand up, but his hand on my arm stops me. When I turn to look at him, his expression is soft, not something I see often from him.
“Why do you look so sad?”
Stunned, I simply sit and stare at him as I try to think of how to answer. I hadn’t expected him to ask something like that, Vaeril isn’t the type to talk about feelings. That’s not to say he isn’t kind, but he’s much more closed off than my other friends. Friend, is that what he is? The pull in my chest whispers that he’s something different, something more.
How do I explain what I’m feeling to him? That I feel like I’ve betrayed my race, and I’m confused about how I feel towards him? I forget he’s an elf, someone I’m supposed to hate, who I’ve been taught is evil. I’ve left my friends behind, and I don’t know where Grayson and Tor are, or if they are safe. Not to mention, Wilson and Jayne are still in the castle with the sadistic king.
“I miss my friends,” I tell him softly, settling for the simplest answer, still hyperaware of his hand on my arm.
“The mountain man?” His voice is tight, and I remember my kiss with Tor the previous night. My cheeks flush and I open my mouth to reply but he beats me to it. “Or the magician?” For once he doesn’t sneer as he speaks about Grayson, and I’m glad. I don’t have the energy to defend my friendships.
“Amongst others,” I reply with a shrug, before gently pulling away from him. His eyes shutter as I do so, and I instantly regret the action. “We should get going.”
He nods and starts to stand, wincing at the pain in his side. Jumping to my feet, I offer him my hand to help him up. He stares at it for a moment like it’s a snake that might bite him, then he just shakes his head and uses the tree to help him get to his feet. Frowning, I slowly pull my hand back, confused and hurt at his rejection. I don’t really understand what’s happened, but I think I’ve done something to upset him. Picking up the pack, I take a deep breath and paste on a fake smile.
“Which way?”
He glances at me, frowning at my smile before turning to look around us and closing his eyes for a second. When they open again, he points and starts to walk in that direction. His mobility seems much better today, but he’s walking at a human pace, which is either because of the wound or because he’s being kind so I can keep up with him.
“Are you coming?” he growls, not stopping as he starts heading through the trees.
Guess it’s not because he’s being kind then, I think with a shake of my head as I hurry to catch up.
We walk for hours. Time passes slowly in here, but I think it’s early afternoon. Vaeril’s struggling, but he won’t stop or ask for help. When I’ve offered to aid him, he refuses, practically snapping at me, so I’ve taken to walking just behind him where I can keep an eye on him without him having a go at me for hovering.
“Stop,” he snarls, glaring at me over his shoulder.
“I’m not doing anything.” I’m trying to stay calm and not snap back at him, but he’s making it difficult.
“I can feel you watching me like I’m about to drop,” he retorts.
Guess he’s figured that one out then, I muse with a sigh. Truthfully, I am worried about him and I want to check his wound again.
“We should stop for the night soon,” I suggest, but he merely grunts in reply.
I’ve been carrying the water flask while we’ve been walking, offering it to him regularly, but as I lift it to my mouth now, I know we’re nearly