one of them. Though his soul wouldn’t fare well once she was gone.
“You need to eat.” It was a command as much as a statement, grunted out as Er’it maneuvered Kal closer and climbed from saddle to cart with practiced ease.
“I can feed myself,” Aida murmured, though her lips tipped up when Er’it straddled her legs.
“Mayhap,” he said, fishing a handful of berries from a small pouch. A precious find in the wintry landscape, Maruk happened upon them while scouting ahead with the soldiers. Now Er’it fed them to her one by one, most of the bounty reserved for her alone.
“I could make more of these.” Aida hummed as Er’it took the opportunity to slip several of the plump blue berries between her lips to silence her.
“No.” Gruff and final, he began feeding her the last of the fresh meat they’d cooked that morning.
That was a conversation Aida did not wish to have again. Eavesdropping as she pretended to drowse, she’d heard the soldiers worrying over their food stores. There hadn’t been enough time to smoke all that they’d hunted, and while the fresh fruit and nuts they’d gathered from Aida’s last show of power had been a welcome respite on the road, it had long since been depleted.
Wanting to help, she’d popped up out of her furs to hang over the side of the wagon, grabbing hold of Er’it’s pant leg to demand his attention. As soon as she began rattling on about her idea to try something like that again, he’d yelled at her. He’d even gone so far as to stop their journey so that he could drag her from the cart and stand over her as he shouted a long list of reasons why it was a ridiculous and stupid idea. Not the least of which was how she’d been unconscious for days afterwards and how if she would not care for her person, he would do it for her.
Left feeling like a petulant child for days afterwards, Aida couldn’t strangle her emotions into remaining angry with him. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right.
Now they were mere days away from their destination, and the point would be moot. Their welfare would no longer be Aida’s concern after they arrived. Her eyes burned with the sting of helpless anger, but it ceased to be about her own senseless death. Furious with Er’it for the little care he showed for his own ravaged soul, she was of half a mind to toss his words back into his face if she thought for a moment he would hear her.
“Has it gone off?” Er’it asked, pulling away the bite of stale bread from her lips to sniff at it, though they could both see the hard tack was well enough to eat.
“It is not the food.”
“Do not start again, kou’vera.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you are mine.”
“You keep saying that, yet you will do this still.” Aida sniffed hard, dashing the back of her hand against her cheeks, though there were no tears to clear away. “Besides, you said kou’va meant that.”
“They mean the—”
“It means ‘my soul,’” Tor’en barked from the far side of the wagon, jerking the reins of the squat mule they’d acquired from the villagers. “And kou’va roughly translates to ‘my desire,’ or ‘my need.’ Both are the sincerest of endearments.”
“Silence your tongue, old man, before I do it for you,” Er’it said, snarling as he climbed to his feet to stand over Aida.
“Why must you lie to her? Pah! Afraid for her to know what it is you say even though you shall carve her heart from her chest?”
“Enough,” Aida screamed, grabbing onto Er’it’s waist, trying to drag him back down into her nest with her slight weight… or at least give him pause before he ripped Tor’en’s throat out. “Please, do not do this!”
“He’ll need you after, mage,” Ath’asho said through a low growl, driving his mare between Tor’en and Er’it despite the risk. “Do not add to his burdens.”
“Burdens! He piles them upon his own back. Let him tear me apart limb by limb, but I will not let him lie to her in addition to everything else.” Tor’en spat to the side, his lip curled as though tasting something foul and rotten. He muttered something, both too low and in their native tongue so that Aida could not understand.
Er’it shouted curses, dragging Aida with him as he started over the side of the cart to get to Tor’en.
“Er’it,” Aida