Our four cellmates were sitting around a campfire when Remo and I reached the caves—an elongated grotto bracketed by two parallel rows of shadowy recesses. Pockets of light beamed through crevices in the vaulted ceiling, illuminating a series of bone-and-soot sketches.
Unlike the simplistic images early humans had painted in their caverns, these drawings had been executed by someone of extraordinary talent. Someone, judging by the landscapes, who’d lived in Neverra. I stopped in front of the one depicting the Glades, admiring the intricate details of the stams that bobbed like giant lily pads atop the water and the tentacular roots of the volitors which dipped into the gleaming expanse.
Although Remo stayed by my side while I admired the murals, his attention was on the group, or more precisely, on the scowling brown-haired fae. Even through the pale smoke of the roasting leg of tigri, I could make out the mountains and valleys on Kingston’s skin. Kiera hadn’t been exaggerating when she said his welts were more abundant. His entire forehead was covered in lumps, his nose was deformed, and his chin stuck out like the steel-capped toes on the two pairs of boots swinging from Remo’s fingers.
“Cave one, six, seven, and eleven are taken.” Kiera pointed to the carved etchings above the arched passageways.
“Who sleeps where?” Remo asked.
“One is Kingston. Six is me. Quinn’s in seven. And Cruz sleeps all the way at the back.”
That settled it then. To the back we’d go. “Ten?” I asked Remo softly.
He nodded, and we walked past the little circle of mismatched criminals.
Avoiding my uncle’s glare, I said, “We’ll just go set our stuff down. Be back in a minute.”
The dark passageway beyond the arch curled in on itself like the inside of a conch. At its heart lay a circular room illuminated by pinpricks of light that streamed through tiny holes in the domed ceiling. The walls were rough, and the sandy floor cold beneath my bare feet. Save for a stack of purple pelts and a basket woven from cyan fronds filled with tiny shells, the space was entirely bare. I hadn’t expected a bathroom or a feather bed, but both would’ve been welcomed. I gazed around me one last time, hoping I’d missed something during my first sweep of the room. To my great regret, I’d missed nothing.
I hung the damp pelt on a rock jutting from the wall. “This is taking minimalism to a whole new level.”
Remo dropped the machete and two pairs of boots next to the hamper of shells. Did that mean he would stay with me? I raised my gaze toward him, found the beginnings of a blush staining the edge of his face, slowly coloring the whole of it.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to assume. I can head into—”
When he bent to pick up his boots, I stepped on the dusty toecap. “Stay. Please.”
He straightened. Such a paradox this man—timid at times and yet so darn self-assured at others. He scraped his hand through his dark auburn locks, which unlike mine, had dried. How I missed my kalini . . . Since I’d landed in the Scourge, I was always either damp, cold, or soaked in mud.
His confidence ended up beating back his blush, and he cupped my head, lined up our mouths, then slowly backed me up against the curved wall. My heart pinballed around my ribs as I reached around his waist and hugged him. He nudged my mouth open, then swept his tongue against mine, all at once playful and not.
When a low rumble sounded between us, one that hadn’t come from his throat, I tore my lips off his, adrenaline pushing through my lust-addled senses.
“That was just my stomach, Amara.”
“Thank, Gejaiwe. Here I thought our new home was about to cave in.”
His glistening lips bowed. “No more trials.”
“Are we sure of that?”
“Yes.”
I sighed. “If only we didn’t have my uncle to deal with, I’d be partying it up right now.”
“Soon.” His stomach rumbled again, momentarily distracting me from Kingston and his poisonous apple.
Wasn’t there a fairytale about a poisoned apple? Was that where Gregor or my grandfather had gotten their twisted idea?
I threaded my hand through his. “Let’s get you fed.”
When we emerged from our cave, only Quinn, Kiera, and Cruz sat by the fire. My uncle must’ve turned in for the night or gone to retrieve his fruit, because he was nowhere in sight. As I took a seat next to Kiera, my gaze traveled down the dusky cavern toward