Page 62 of Ember Rising

My hair blows in the breeze behind me and I bend to lessen the air resistance. I always loved this feeling of freedom. It takes me outside my head, which is a hard thing to do.

After close to an hour of faster riding, Evander catches up to me and puts a hand out, telling me to stop. I slow and then come to a full stop, looking at him expectantly.

“Jane can’t keep up,” he says.

I furrow my brow. “You’re just going to call her Jane? No aggravated look? No argument about how impractical it is?”

He gives me the aggravated look. “Jane’s very practical. One syllable. I was surprised you didn’t name her after your favorite fourteen-syllable math theorem, so no argument on Jane.”

I balk. “A math theorem? Are you calling me a nerd?”

“No. I’m calling you difficult and abstract.”

I laugh, not at all amused. “Difficult and abstract? Do elaborate.”

He shakes his head and swings off his horse. “I’d rather burn shit for a full week than continue this conversation.”

“Why would anyone burn shit?”

He glares at me, walking Thunder and Jane over to a tree to tie them up. “It’s something we had to do when I was a SEAL. We shit in the ground, not on gold toilets while our tutors were preparing lessons for us.”

That one makes me so angry I can’t even form words for a few seconds. I swing off Raisin’s back and walk her over to another tree.

“Do you know how to tie a quick-release knot on the lead rope?” Evander asks.

“Do you know how to not be so fucking condescending all the time?”

I’ve actually never tied a horse up, but it’s not hard. One of my archery teammates also raced sailboats, and she taught me to tie dozens of knots.

Once Raisin is secure and I know I won’t be traumatizing her by yelling in her ear, I walk over to Evander, who’s peeing with his back to me.

He looks over his shoulder at me and scowls. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do. I really fucking do. I mind you calling me difficult and abstract because, unlike you, I happen to be more interesting than a concrete block. I mind you talking down to me while still having the balls to say I’m a snob who looks down on others.”

He turns to finish, and I get into my most pissed-off stance, feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed and scowl in place. When he turns back around, he looks just as mad as I feel.

“I mind your stupid-ass jokes about me using a jerk sock and fucking sheep. If you’re feeling vulnerable, you always break out the bitchy jokes to deflect.”

My jaw drops. “You did not just call me that.”

“No, I didn’t!” He bends slightly, bringing his face closer to mine. “I said the jokes are bitchy, not you. I hardly slept last night and I’m tired as fuck. Can we not do this?”

“How could you not sleep?” I yell. “You were in a bed, wearing pajamas, protected by armed guards.”

“Because I was beside you,” he snaps. “You might think I’m as interesting as a concrete block, but I feel differently about you.”

I lean back, stunned. “You ... What?”

His shoulders sink as he sighs. “I don’t want to do this. We need to find water for the horses and keep moving.”

He gets into the saddlebags for his canteen, putting it up to his mouth and tipping it. I stare at his upper arms, lines of flexing muscles making my mouth water.

“I think we should talk some more,” I say softly.

He barks out a note of laughter. “I’m done talking. Get your horse.”

I don’t think anyone has ever confused me so much. I saw interest when he looked at me last night. He just said he couldn’t sleep because he was beside me. But he’s so short and detached sometimes that I’m sure he can’t stand me.