Page 83 of Starside

I have every intention of staying awake. My heart is beating wildly, the panic still pounding through my blood. But I’m worn out from the retching. My energy fades quickly.

I fall asleep curled around my sword in its scabbard, to the memory of furious gray eyes.

Sunlight rains down, its heat like a blanket. I groan, luxuriating in its warmth, before it’s ripped away completely.

My eyes slowly blink open, only to find a hooded figure blocking the sunlight like an incessant shadow. I’m still curved around my scabbard, my legs and arms wrapped around it.

His voice is emotionless. “You weren’t moving. I thought you might have died.”

I glare up at him. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He walks away, murmuring something that sounds like a curse against me. I’m sure he’s regretting saving me. I’m sure he thinks even the map isn’t worth it.

As long as he keeps working with me, I don’t give a shit. And even though I would be dead without his interference, I can’t summon even a shred of gratitude. Because I know the truth about him. I know he doesn’t have feelings, or mercy, or anything resembling a heart beneath that spotless armor.

The demons. I jolt, turning toward the shore where they watched us sleep all night.

They’re gone. Just like Raker said they would be.

His deep voice cuts through the morning. “The next part of the map. Draw it.” He points at the dirt.

There he is again, ordering me to do something. My pride rises, but I snuff it out. He’s already proven useful.

I begin drawing with a stick. I’m not stupid enough to draw the entire length for him. I’ll just show the closest part to us.

There are several mountain ranges. A few roads. Forests. I draw all of them in proximity to where we are, grateful for all those nights spent strengthening my memory.

Finally—“The Prism Pass. Land of rainbows was written beneath it.” I wait for a reaction that never arrives.

These mountains seem separated, full of steep drop-offs and deep valleys. And … waterfalls. I draw from memory and perk up. “This is perfect—because … because of the water.” I draw at least a dozen of them that were marked.

I put the stick down and marvel at my work.

Raker studies my drawing for a moment.

Then he wordlessly turns around. His sword glistens as he pulls it out of the dirt and slides it back against his spine. He grabs his pack.

I blink. “That’s it? You aren’t going to tell me where we’re going? You aren’t going to consult me at all?”

“Your voice is irritating,” he says, reaching his hand into the darkness of his hood. Is he … pinching his nose over the mask? I think about all those rumors about him being a monster beneath there. Maybe he is. All I saw were eyes. The rest could be anything. “Speak to me as little as possible.”

“You do not order me,” I say, getting to my feet, because fucking enough.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He takes a step forward. “You asked to work with me. Those are my conditions. Listen. And don’t speak.”

My hands clench into fists. I did ask him to work with me. I practically begged him to. And even though he’s proven himself to be more of a bastard than I anticipated, I’m alive. I’m closer to the gods. That’s all that matters.

“Fine,” I say through my teeth.

He turns away, toward the water. That’s when I realize we’ll have to cross it.

“I can’t—”

“Fucking swim, I know,” he barks. He sighs, the movement raking through his entire mountainous form. He really is absurdly huge. A foot and a half taller than me, and ridiculously muscled … but not so big that his size would slow him down. The exact form I would expect from the most feared warrior on Stormside.

He lingers, looking over at me, hesitating.

For a moment, I think he might offer his hand. He might take me in his arms, the way he must have last night to drag me from the depths of the lake and onto this isle. But that’s stupid of me, because in the end, he seems to think better of it as he shakes his head and growls, “Figure it out.”