AREN WATCHED FROM the porch steps of his cabin as two warriors set up a tent nearby. The wind was strong, and they were having trouble keeping it in place as they hammered the posts into the ground. He could have offered to help, or enlisted an elemental Ruined to redirect the gusts, but he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable today. Or any day, really.
“Young man, the ancestors did not bestow such a gift on you for you to keep it to yourself.” His mother’s voice rang clear in his ears. He was almost positive she’d never said that exact thing to him. It didn’t matter. His mother’s voice was always in his head, even when he didn’t want it there.
“My gift won’t help build a tent,” he muttered out loud. He could imagine the disapproving look he’d get for that statement.
“What was that?”
Aren jumped. Iria stood in front of him. He swore that girl didn’t touch the ground when she walked. She was always sneaking up on him.
“What? Nothing,” he said quickly. “Hi, Iria.”
She smiled. “Hi, Aren.” She looked exhausted, a consequence of a brutal schedule they’d set for themselves to get to Ruina as quickly as possible. Still, she was pretty in a way that a couple of dark circles and dirty clothes couldn’t hide.
“I’m glad to see you made it,” she said, lowering down onto the step next to him. Her shoulder brushed his. “I searched for you and Em after the battle at Fort Victorra.”
“We took off right away. Didn’t want to risk retaliation for Olivia killing the queen.” That wasn’t entirely true. There was no chance of retaliation, not after Olivia killed the Lera queen. He hadn’t seen Olivia do it—he’d been injured, lying on the ground nearby—but he’d heard Cas’s panicked breathing and the strangled cries. The noise had sounded so much like Aren’s cries the night his parents had died that he’d put his hands to ears in an effort to drown it out. It hadn’t worked.
“You know I wouldn’t have come on this trip if the warriors were up to anything bad, right?” Iria asked. Her expression was serious, and she was trying to meet his eyes. He resisted.
“I know. I can’t imagine you kept me alive in the jungle just to come out here and kill me.”
Something flickered across her face when he mentioned the jungle. His heart was suddenly thumping in his chest, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying to ignore it.
“This is a nice home you’ve set up here,” she said after an awkward silence. He just shrugged. It wasn’t a home, and it certainly wasn’t nice.
“We brought food,” Iria continued. “Did Em tell you? Lots of beans. And some dried meat.”
“I heard. Thank you.” He stood, then wished he hadn’t. He missed the warmth of her next to him. “Tell me if you have any trouble. Steer clear of the Ruined. Especially Olivia.”
Iria got to her feet. “How is Olivia?”
“She’s adjusting. She’s angry, of course. She was in captivity for a year and got out to discover that ninety percent of the Ruined had been murdered. She’s rarely in a charitable mood.”
“I understand.”
She couldn’t possibly understand, but Aren didn’t point that out. “You’re safe here,” he said instead, though he could never guarantee that.
Iria smiled at him. She crinkled her nose a little when she smiled, drawing attention to the freckles there. “Thanks, Aren.”
He quickly turned away and stepped into the cabin. Olivia stood next to the window, holding back the curtain as she peeked outside.
“I know that girl,” Olivia said. “She used to come to the castle when I was younger.”
“Iria. She was with us in Lera.”
“Right. Em mentioned that.” Olivia watched as Iria walked away. “You trust them? The warriors?”
“Of course not.” He paused. “I trust Iria.”
She lifted an eyebrow. It was not an approving eyebrow.
“Mostly,” he quickly added. “It’s … in the jungle, when the warriors took me, she offered to let me go.”
“She did what?”
I’ll take that blindfold off. Iria’s words from a few weeks ago rang in his ears. They’d been in the jungle, the night after the warriors had captured him and Em and Cas had escaped. He’d been blindfolded, his arms bound in front of him, when the soft voice whispered in his ear.
“She offered to let me go,” he said, heat rising up his neck. The memory of Iria tugging the blindfold off took shape in his head, the way he’d blinked in the darkness to find her so close to him their noses were almost touching.
“And … what? You stayed anyway? Didn’t you arrive at the fortress with the warriors?”
“I didn’t take her up on the offer,” he said. “She could have been charged with treason. She assured me the warriors weren’t going to kill me, so I stayed. It was better to keep tabs on them.”
“I guess,” Olivia said skeptically.
Aren turned away, afraid she’d see emotions splashed across his face. The memory of that night burned so bright in his mind it was hard to keep his expression neutral.
You idiot, he’d said after she’d pulled the blindfold off, a trace of humor in his voice. I could kill you.
You’re not going to kill me. She’d said it with such confidence that he was almost insulted. He still remembered the quiet laugh that had followed, like that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. He’d never met a human who wasn’t scared of him.
He’d declined her offer, and she’d put the blindfold back on and settled down next to him. He’d woken the next morning to his head on her shoulder and the other warriors making fun of him for it. She’d discreetly squeezed his hand and disappeared from his side.
“Her first loyalty is to the warriors,” Olivia said firmly. “Always will be.”
Aren nodded. There was no use arguing with Olivia. There was no use trying to explain that a warrior had really had good intentions. That Iria had offered to commit treason for him.
Maybe he was stupid. Or overly optimistic. Or distracted by the way her nose crinkled when she smiled.
But Aren was almost certain Iria’s loyalty rested with him, not with her fellow warriors.