Page 139 of The Incendiary

—FROM THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA’S LAST KNOWN LETTERS TO QUEEN ARYELLA I

I slept curled up beneath my blanket on my mat with my back to Elias and prayed I didn’t talk or scream in my sleep. When I woke up, he had already eaten breakfast.

“Good morning,” he muttered without looking up from where he stood beside the horse.

“Morning.” I fixed my hair into a quick braid and scarfed down some more jerky. My stomach was still a little uneasy, my muscles still weak from healing Elias, but I felt better than the night before.

“How many more hours of riding did you say until we get there?” I slid my arms through my jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder.

“About three. Here.” He reached for my bag and fastened it to the saddle next to his own.

“Thank—”

“If I came on a little strong last night, I’m sorry,” he rushed out. He winced at his own apology, like giving it hurt him.

“Don’t worry.” I didn’t like feeling serious around him, so I tried to lighten the mood by walking over and giving his shoulder a gentle pat and joking, “We can’t all be irresistible.”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. “I’m serious.” His proximity, combined with my lack of control, sent my body into a panic.

“Alcohol was involved,” I calmly responded. “I think you were a little drunk, but nothing happened.”

He frowned at my rambling, searching my eyes for answers I wouldn’t give him. “I wasn’t drunk, and you called me Elias yesterday. You still can, if you want. Or Eli. What my friends call me.”

“Is that what I am?” I retorted. “Your friend?”

“If you want to be.” His finger brushed my hand, making my stomach leap in unwelcome ways. “Call me Eli, Fera.”

My nose, eyes, and throat ached with emotion, perhaps because his suggestion felt like a threat to my loyalty. I felt heat and desire from him, for him. Even after rejecting him, the sensations were there, and I didn’t want them to be.

But I still wanted to win him over, and being his friend wasn’t unappealing.

“Fine,” I answered bitterly.

His sharp jaw ticked in irritation. “Fine?” he scoffed, reaching into his bag and tossing my canteen of water against my chest. “Fine,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I refilled your water for you in a nearby creek I know is safe.”

Was fine not enough? How could he be mad about that? I had every right to set a boundary with him, or anyone. He didn’t own me.

We left without a word and rode for a few hours. I searched for hoof tracks or any other signs of someone recently traveling through, but there were none. Nature—green and breezy—was peaceful and unbothered.

“If he’s not where you think he’ll be, what’s the plan?” I asked.

“He’ll be there.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m usually right,” he answered tersely.

Thankfully, he couldn’t see me roll my eyes as we reached the edge of a massive ridge and began to ascend. The incline wasn’t too steep for the horse, but I could tell by its slowing gait that it struggled.

“We should let him rest,” I suggested when we reached the long, flat, tree-covered ridge that stretched north. The horse drudged along slowly. Before Eli could object, I tucked my knee behind him and dismounted so he either had to halt or leave me behind.

I rested my hands on my hips and took in the breathtaking vision before me. We were high enough to see the green, rolling hills to the east and snow-capped mountains to the northwest. The area reminded me a bit of the Wymaran highlands, just less rocky.

“There!” Eli barked, ceasing to feed and water the horse. He pointed to a cluster of trees where a man stood beside a horse, looking right at us. I couldn’t make out his features at this distance, but it had to be Finch. We stood still for what felt like minutes, the air thick with anticipation. The moment Finch moved to mount his horse, Eli leapt up on ours and reached for me. “Let’s go!”

I accepted his arm and let him swing me onto the back of the horse as we took off in a rapid chase. Our speed caused the world around me to blur. I had no choice but to grip the sides of Eli’s jacket to avoid falling off. The last time I’d ridden a horse this fast had been the black mare in Tovick, on my birthday.

“I will chase you to the ends of the earth, Aryella.”