Wylan acted as her sentry. He let her go where she pleased, and remained within a few yards, taking up the mending of Ash’s bridle. Without anything else to do, and not wanting to be the object of everyone’s attention, she went into the girl’s tent. There she sat, staring at nothing, lost in her thoughts. Only when someone came near the shelter did she start sewing up a tear in a shirt, or brushing her hair, or tidying her things. No one tried to talk to her. Not Grrake, or Ahjul, or Terindi. Whether that was because of Wylan’s presence, or out of sensitivity to the fact that she might prefer to be alone, she didn’t know. Either way, she was grateful.
The only person who tried to talk to her was Yhkon. She heard footsteps outside the tent that she recognized as his, making her grip the shirt she was mending tighter. But then Wylan’s voice, cool, collected, even bland. “Leave her alone, Yhkon.”
Yhkon’s voice surprised her with its meekness. “I just want to—”
“No.” Meek or not, she wasn’t ready to face the Warden, and inwardly thanked Wylan. “Not right now.”
~♦~
“Well, my dear,” Resh took her hand and kissed it with a gallant flourish. “I suppose from now on you must be deprived of my company, when riding at least.”
Talea smiled and played along with a slight curtsy. “How shall I ever bear the deprivation.”
“Indeed,” Resh took on a thoughtful mien, “how can anyone?”
With a grin, she shook her head at him and walked away, almost running into Skyve. He backed up and gave her a wide berth, as if he might catch a disease if he came too close. Rolling her eyes, she kept going. She liked Skyve, really, from what she knew of him after a few days’ acquaintance. But he really was so finicky, and absolutely repulsed by the very idea of emotion.
One thing was for sure—she would not be sorry to leave behind Fesdor, Skyve’s parents, and the campsite that had been like a prison. The sooner they continued their journey, the sooner it was over. Only one more ward to go.
She retrieved her pack and made her way along the perimeter of the camp to Gustor. He was busy saddling his celith, until he heard her approach and looked up.
Gustor’s face was usually unreadable. He had the classic Sanonyan appearance, golden complexion, sharp features, light colored eyes and hair, matched with an intensity that made him look like Yhkon’s older brother. In all, he was rather intimidating, though she had long since decided he was much kinder than he let on.
There was something readable in his expression this time, however. Reluctance.
She stopped a few paces away. “What is it?”
“You’re going to ask if you can ride with me, I presume.”
“Yeah...” Would he say no? He had been an ally of sorts during the last few days, taking her with him on hunting trips multiple times so that she could get away from camp. And while he never asked her about what had happened, or offered much verbal compassion, he seemed to understand and offer silent support.
Gustor finished cinching the saddle, then faced her with a frown. “I’m sorry. I would have had no objections, myself, but Yhkon already insisted against it.”
Talea bit the inside of her cheek. Why, after almost two days of complete silence, did Yhkon see the need to drag them both back into the arena for another fight? She had, in the infrequent cases that interaction was necessary, made an effort to be courteous, even generous, in her behavior—if also to keep her distance. He had practically ignored her. Why force her to ride with him? “And I guess you’d be in trouble if you didn’t listen,” was all she mumbled.
He grunted. “I couldn’t care less about that. But…” He shrugged a little. “I think he’s ready to make amends. It would be better for everyone if he’s allowed the opportunity.” When she didn’t answer, he added, “If he makes a mess of that opportunity…then you can ride with me as often as you please and I don’t give a barbsit’s tail what he says about it.”
Well…maybe he was right. If she gave Yhkon one final chance, no one could accuse her of quitting too soon. She didn’t think there was much likelihood of him taking the chance and actually trying to reconcile with her; it would probably be a miserable ride that ended in another fight. Then it would be over. After that she could ride with Gustor. In fact, she knew exactly what she could say, what topics to bring up, to practically guarantee that Yhkon flew into a rage and lost his window, and then the matter would be closed.
No, she couldn’t do that. That wasn’t fair. Isn’t it?
After giving Gustor her thanks, Talea took a deep breath and approached Yhkon instead. He was waiting for her. “Are you sure I shouldn’t just ride with Gustor?” she asked quietly, to keep the exchange private.
His only answer was to take her pack and secure it behind the saddle. Then he offered his hand, for her to climb up with. As sorely tempting as it was to haughtily ignore the gesture, she made herself accept the assistance.
With everything packed up, everyone mounted, Yhkon kicked Eclipse into a canter and they were off. Skyve’s family had agreed almost immediately to the scheme, asking only a few days to tie things off and say goodbyes. If Skyve was sorry to be leaving his home and family behind, he didn’t show it. Talea thought that perhaps he would miss his sisters, and they him. For all his indifference and exasperation with them, she could tell he was a protective, loving older brother—perhaps especially so since it seemed that they looked to him for guidance and affection more than to their parents.
There was one ward left. Amilyne, the eighth, in Aydimor itself.
More pressing than that dilemma, however, was that of the man she shared a saddle with. As awkward as the silence was, she couldn’t break it. As uncomfortable as it was to grip nothing but the back of the saddle, she couldn’t make herself put her hands on his waist. The terrain was uneven, rocky and dry, with hills, cliffs, and ravines limiting the visibility.
He broke the silence. “Can we figure this out?”
Eclipse was far enough ahead of the group that they could talk privately. Can we? “I’m not sure yet.”
“Well…” She couldn’t see his expression, but she could see him kneading his thigh with white knuckles. “Can we try?”
“Alright...” Give him a chance. “Okay. Let’s figure it out.”
If her answer relieved him at all, he didn’t show it. “I guess I’m not sure…how. I know you’re upset that I’m not more open, but I don’t see why I can’t keep some things to myself.”
Was that fair? Had she been asking too much? He clearly felt a need for privacy that she didn’t, and maybe she should have accepted that earlier. “Okay…I mean, you can, I guess. I probably shouldn’t have asked so much. But…” She closed her eyes, wishing she could unscramble her thoughts and feelings and coherently communicate them in words. “When I did ask, you got so angry. I thought we were friends but then you would snap at me and just…”
Yhkon’s tension was visible, in his stiff posture and flexed muscles. “I don’t like talking about my past.”
As if I hadn’t figured that out. “I know…and I’m sorry if I’ve been pushy…but don’t you think it might be better to talk about it? Or at least to not—”