and shrugged. ‘So my father taught me.’
He smiled at that. Beneath him, his foot twitched, brushing against hers, and he became aware of how close they stood. He felt the heat of her breath, felt her ears twitch at every beat of his heart, as though she heard past all the grime caking him, all the flesh surrounding him, heard him function at his core.
‘Back away,’ he whispered, heedless of the lack of breath in his voice.
Her foot did not move. The wind moaned between them, singing a dirge for the dead that went unappreciated. As if in spite, the tiny breeze cut across them and sent their locks of silver and gold whipping across their faces. Between them, though, the air remained unchanging. He could feel the subtle twist of heat as her chest rose with each breath, the cool shift as another bead of sweat formed upon the pale skin of her neck to begin a snaking path down her belly.
‘You back away,’ she muttered, her voice barely audible over the wind’s murmur.
The stars were out, unafraid. The sky was the deepest of bruises now. The clouds had long since slunk into black sails on far distant horizons. Behind Lenk, the sky met the sea and the world moved beneath them.
‘Last chance,’ he whispered.
Before Lenk, the world was eclipsed in two green suns above a pair of thin, parted lips.
‘Make me,’ she smiled.
There was a heartbeat shared between them.
‘Stop.’
His eyes snapped open wide. His neck became cold just as it had begun to shift forwards.
‘Staring at us.’
He didn’t hear the voice; he felt it, crawling across his brain on icicle fingers.
‘She’s staring at us.’
‘What’s wrong?’
Kataria’s ears went upright, sensing something. Could she hear it, he wondered, as it echoed inside his skull?
‘Stop,’ he repeated.
‘Make her stop.’
‘Stop,’ his voice became a whine.
‘Stop what?’
‘Make her stop!’
‘Stop!’
‘Stop what?’
‘MAKE HER STOP!’
‘STOP STARING AT US!’
The sailors glanced up from their routine, eyes suddenly quite wide as his scream carried across the corpses bobbing on the waves. They stared for only a moment before cringing as he turned around, clutching his head, before returning to their duties and taking a collective step away from his vicinity.
Kataria, however, did not look away.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m perfectly fine.’ The statement sounded less absurd in his head, but his brain was choked by frigid fingers, an echo reverberating off his skull. ‘Perfectly fine. Would you stop staring at me?’
She did not.
‘You’re not fine,’ she stated, her eyes boring past his hair and skin as if to peer at whatever rang in his head. ‘You just broke down screaming at me for no reason.’
‘There’s always a reason for me to be screaming,’ he growled. ‘Especially at you.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Her gaze narrowed; no longer a probe but rather a weapon to stab him with.
‘What do you mean, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Isn’t it obvious? I was nearly killed today!’
And now I’m hearing voices in my head, he wanted to add, but did not.
‘You’re nearly killed almost every other day! So are all of us! We’re adventurers!’
Insanity isn’t common amongst adventurers.
‘We’re not supposed to nearly be killed by hideous things that can’t be harmed by steel and drown men on dry land! Moscoff—’
‘Mossud.’
‘Whatever his name was, he rammed the damn ... that ... thing through with a spear and it didn’t even flinch! Gariath and I threw everything we had at it and it didn’t budge! I ...’ He stalled, then forced the words out through gritted teeth. ‘I looked into its eyes and I didn’t see anything.’ ‘And that’s why you went mad a moment ago?’
I went mad because I’m likely losing my mind.
‘And you feel that’s inappropriate?’ he asked with a sneer.
‘Slightly.’ She sighed, her shoulders sinking. ‘You meet one thing you can’t kill and this is how you react? Is it so hard to accept that some things exist that you simply can’t change? I would have thought you were used to it, being a—’
‘Human.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Of course. How could I not be used to such things, being a weak-willed, beady-eyed human?’
‘I wasn’t going to say that.’
‘But you were thinking it.’
Her eyes were hard and cruel. ‘I’m always thinking it.’ ‘Well, if you think so little of us, why don’t you leave and go frolic in the forest with the other savages?’
‘Because I choose not to,’ she spat back. Folding her arms over her chest, she turned her nose upwards. ‘Who’s going to make me do otherwise?’
‘Me,’ Lenk