Ruined - Amy Tintera Page 0,84
him was waiting, hoping, praying she was about to say she’d fallen in love with him. To confess that her feelings had been real and she wasn’t just pretending in order to get information out of him.
He almost laughed out loud at his pathetic state. Was he really hoping that a girl who had conspired to ruin his kingdom was actually in love with him?
“Well?” he asked, as the silence continued. “You didn’t expect me to be what? Gullible? Stupid?”
“Kind!” she practically yelled. “Reasonable! Thoughtful!” She hurled the words at him like they were insults, and he wasn’t sure how to react.
She whirled around and resumed walking without waiting for a response. He hesitated for a moment, letting the words sink in.
Kind, reasonable, thoughtful. It wasn’t love or an admission of wild, passionate feelings, but he realized he liked her three words more. Love would have been easy, another easy lie in a long line of lies. Love would be easy to dismiss.
But kind, reasonable, thoughtful couldn’t be brushed off. They wriggled in and made themselves at home and breathed air in between the ache in his chest.
THIRTY-TWO
CAS HAD SAID nothing to Em since she’d stupidly told him he was kind. And reasonable. Did anyone like being called reasonable? She wouldn’t blame him if he hated her even more now.
She’d noticed he’d learned to step carefully and cover their tracks without her having to explain. He might have been ignoring her, but he was clearly taking mental notes about everything she was doing.
They were still fairly close to Gallego City, and small wooden homes dotted the river. It didn’t seem like the warriors had expanded past the city, but they walked carefully, both her and Cas’s hands constantly poised over their swords.
“There.” Cas pointed to a nearby home, with a dock stretching out into the river. A small rowboat was tied to a post on the dock.
She looked out at the sun, which had almost fully disappeared. She’d been skeptical about the boat when he mentioned it, because they’d be easily spotted on the river in daylight. But the warriors would be less likely to spot them at night. And they wouldn’t have to worry about leaving a trail.
Cas walked to the river and she followed, casting a glance over her shoulder as they reached the dock.
He crouched down next to the metal loop that the boat was tied to and tugged at it. “Get in,” he said to her as he worked on the rope.
She carefully stepped into the boat, keeping her hand on the dock as the boat tilted beneath her. “Is now the wrong time to mention that I’ve never rowed a boat?”
Cas smiled, cocking one eyebrow. “Seriously?”
His smile knocked her even further off balance, and she had to take a moment to steady her feet on the boat. “There aren’t a lot of rivers in Ruina. And we traveled by foot in Vallos because the hunters always congregated at the rivers.”
“See those hooks right there?” he asked, pointing. She nodded. “Put the oars through those.”
She grabbed the oars and sat down.
“And you’re definitely facing the wrong way.” One side of his mouth turned up as she felt her cheeks flush. She wasn’t sure if she was blushing because of his adorable amused expression, or because she was embarrassed to not know what she was doing.
“Hey!” The scream made both of them whirl around, and Em saw a guy standing in the doorway of his house. He took off toward them.
Em spun around and stuck the oars through the loops, keeping a tight grip on them. Cas yanked the rope free and tossed it away.
The man tore across the grass, his face furious.
“Move,” Cas said to her as he hopped into the boat. She did as instructed, handing him the oars. He leaned back, moving the oars over the water, and they pulled away from the dock.
The man pounded onto the dock and seemed to seriously consider jumping in. But Cas rowed quickly, smoothly, and had put a good distance between them and the dock within seconds.
“I’m sorry!” Cas yelled at him, and Em pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. He caught her expression and laughed. “What? I am.”
“First time you’ve ever stolen something?” she asked.
He cocked his head. “Yes. Unless you count all the fig tarts I’ve stolen from the kitchen.”
“Those fig tarts technically belong to you, so no, I don’t count them.”
He began to smile wider, but the grin abruptly disappeared. The familiar