Her eyes narrowed, her gaze measuring. “I know you push yourself. But I hear you at night. Maybe there’s some berry, or something natural that can help you sleep.”
“Maybe,” I muttered, swatting a bug on my neck. “I’ll be fine.”
“What about your Fae blood? You don’t know how it’ll react with your shifter half when pressed. Do you really think it’s worth risking?”
I sighed. Half Fae, half shifter and, I had to admit, I didn’t know what the combination would mean, if I were pressed.
“My Fae blood has never been a problem before.”
“And you could never use your wings by themselves before, either.”
Nevaeh had a point. A small part of me hated it. And I really didn’t know much about what being half Fae and half shifter meant for me, in general. I searched the trees around me, like they would hold the answers, then sighed. Of course they didn’t. But maybe somewhere in Daranil there was someone who did.
Or maybe . . .
I didn’t want to entertain the idea that my mother could be alive, in this world or ours. If she was alive and knowingly left me to Mordecai . . .
Nevaeh cleared her throat pointedly, an air of smugness settling on her face.
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. Nevaeh knew it wouldn’t do her any good. Besides, I knew I could manage a rapid-shift. I did have enough energy for that, at least. And, right now, that’s all I needed to ensure the Fae were safe—one good shift. Hopefully.
Pressure ached along my spine. That need to change returned, less present than before but growing slowly. The cigarettes in my bag taunted me, but I tried to ignore them. I wanted to make them last. My fingers slid to my lip and I plucked at the ring that sat there. Shifting was the least of my concerns.
Ahead of us, Tarik warily eyeballed the twins from his place at Sebastian’s side. We had been inside Daranil for almost a week now, and despite his request, I hadn’t gone to him when the nightmares woke me up. I only now felt like I was starting to tread water. Beginning to figure out how to cope, to go on, to repel the guilt that lingered in my mind. But treading water wasn’t moving forward.
Despite how my chest radiated warmth whenever I looked at him or how every inch of me screamed to run to him whenever I failed to sleep, I still couldn’t find it in myself to burden Tarik with any more of my problems. They were heavy enough already.
A stray vine snagged the tip of my boot and I cursed. This damned jungle couldn’t end soon enough. Akeno snickered, yanking out a pocket knife long enough to slit the green plant in half.
“Thanks,” I murmured, ignoring the eyebrow he wagged in my direction. The sweat on his brow was gratifying—I wasn’t the only one who was literally melting. Caspar seemed to be adapting to the heat better than the rest of us. He barely seemed daunted by the trek. Ironic, for the number of hours that Fae spent indoors glued to a screen. The twins, meanwhile . . .
I caught sight of a blond head lowering, fingers extended, and I leapt past Caspar to grab the back of the twin’s shirt.
Man I wish I could tell these two apart.
“What’s wrong with this one?” he cried.
“Wolfsbane,” I panted, pulling him farther away from the bright purple flowers. “Poisonous.”
My breathing was ragged and embarrassment spread heat up my cheeks. Such a small exertion, and I was winded? I swallowed. Sure, I was tired, but this . . . this was a new low. The twins had migrated closer to Sebastian but I was frozen, hands on my knees, staring intensely at the ground.
What the hell is wrong with me?
But I knew. I shot a half-glance at Tarik. I couldn’t keep going like this. Even if I did manage to shift, at this point I was as good as useless.
Dead weight.
A hand slid into my peripheral and I glanced up. The understanding in his expression almost shattered my heart. I looped my fingers with Tarik’s, squeezing gently. Somehow, I would figure this out.
Figure me out.
The wind kicked up then and I froze, inhaling deeply. Then I scrunched my nose. Another gust passed before I asked, “Does anyone else smell pine?”
I could see the skepticism in the faces around me, but after another moment Akeno’s eyes widened. “I can.”
“So what does that mean?” Sebastian asked, pushing his damp hair off his neck.
“We’ve reached the end of this tropical nightmare?”
Nevaeh suggested. She tugged at her gum, wrapping it around her finger. “Maybe the Fae realm is just a patchwork of different biomes?”
Tarik shrugged. “Rebel Leader wasn’t sure.”
I scanned the trees, but there was no hint of a break. My fingers tightened around Tarik’s hand before I slid past Sebastian, pulling Tarik with me. In a matter of minutes, we were surrounded by lush pines, cedars, redwoods. The scent of perfumed flowers faded the farther we walked, replaced with a rich, earthy scent. And, as if in accordance with the new trees, the air cooled. Sweat evaporated off our skin with the thin breeze shivering between the branches.
The need to make camp poked at me, but something about the sudden onset felt too familiar. So, I nudged the group on. I doubted there were mermen in the woods, but I didn’t want to know what could lurk out here.
The trees split open, but I had to battle my way through a thick pile of underbrush before I could breathe a sigh of relief. The forest was broken by a massive lake, the other side of which was barely visible from where we stood. I inhaled deeply. The scent of fresh water and fish melded together with the strong pine. My stomach rumbled angrily and I glanced up long enough to catch the smirk on Tarik’s lips. But fish—I could fish. We could have a real meal tonight.
“We should set camp in the treeline over there,” Sebastian said suddenly. “We can take advantage of the lake tonight.”
“I can fish,” I said quietly, and Sebastian’s eyes locked onto mine.
“We could use a solid meal.” He considered me a moment before adding, “Thank you.”
I grinned. While the others moved to set the tents, I shuffled aside rocks, prying worms from their hiding spots before I gathered the rest of the supplies I needed from the group. With a string secured to a branch, I pried a safety pin into a hook shape and attached it to the line, then baited a worm and dropped the lure into the water. I had a bite almost instantly, but then the water quieted. So I waited.
And waited.
Minutes ticked by. I blinked against the sleep trying to overtake my senses, shook my head. A sliver of movement caught my peripheral. Creeping along the waterline, eyeing me warily, was a small yellow and orange lizard with hooded eyes and bright, matching butterfly wings. At the same moment, my line took a hit and I pulled the fish in, hoping that the small, fascinating lizard would hang around. It did.
“Well you’re cute,” I crooned, stretching my fingers toward it.
The lizard cocked its head, then slowly crept closer. Tiny yellow eyes blinked up at me before a light pressure fell on my hand, sticky little paws clambering upward. I froze when the creature coughed, a tiny puff of flame slipping from its mouth, but there seemed to be no threat in the gesture. The animal curled into my palm and I slid my makeshift fishing pole between two rocks beside me, so I could cautiously run a finger down the lizard’s side. The small, scaled back curved into the touch, like a puppy getting an ear scratch. I chuckled.