If not for his friendship, I’m not sure I would’ve made it through the past year.
Eamon has always watched our banter with open jealously, but I’ve never apologized for it. There will never be anything between Carleon and me, but he did help replace the hole that Eamon left behind when he leaped out of the friendship realm and into the turbulent waters of dating. If he were honest, I’m sure Eamon is jealous because of that reason mostly.
Things used to be effortless between us. We knew each other’s thoughts without having to voice them. We would spend hours lying together on a hill to count the stars. Usually one of us would fall asleep and wake the next morning layered in snow or dew.
It has been far too long since Eamon and I had that sort of a relationship.
As I emerge from the tent, I realize Carleon has posted himself just outside, his mouth gaped wide in an almighty snore. I smile ruefully down at him as I nudge him with my shoe. “Wakey, wakey, princess.”
“Go away.” Gripping the edge of his blanket, he rolls over and finds himself facedown in snow. He coughs and splutters, then slowly rises, swiping flakes from his face. “I was having a good dream, thank you very much.”
“I can tell by the drool trailing down your chin.”
“What?” His eyes widen in surprise as he wipes at his chin.
He glares up at me as I laugh. “Why is it always so easy to get you, Carleon?”
He scowls and runs his hands through his unruly locks. I love the way the fading light dims the auburn highlights in his usually black hair. His eyes are dark, like a pool of water on a moonless night, but there’s always life dancing in them.
“See if I give you my pillow tomorrow,” he grumbles and snatches his blanket off the ground, shaking it before he begins to roll it into a tight bundle.
“Thanks for that, by the way. I think I slept like the dead.” I attempt to comb my fingers through my hair but instantly give up, deciding to wind my tangled mess into a ponytail at the back of my head instead. I’ve learned to bring a lot string with me for this reason. It’s a mystery how I used to live in the woods and managed to avoid tangles for the most part. Maybe city living has softened me more than I thought.
“Glad you did. I couldn’t sleep a wink with Bodhi sawing logs all day.” He scratches at his chin and I can hear the beginnings of a new day’s growth under his nails.
It’s still weird to me that Carleon can shave. He has changed so much in the past year. When I first met him, he looked like a boy, although his eyes betrayed wisdom that only comes with age. I liked him instantly, reminding him that war doesn’t care how old you are. But now, looking at him as he rummages through his pack, I realize he isn’t the only one who has changed.
We all have. I guess that comes naturally with age, but I can’t remember there ever being a harder fought year. My childhood was spent hunting and scavenging for food to feed our people. There was never enough and most nights I went to bed with a hole still in my stomach, but even then, life had been easy in comparison.
I turn and drop to a knee as I begin tearing down my tent, lost in thought. I do that a lot these days, reminisce. Aminah tells me it’s my way of avoiding the present, but I think it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to make sure I remember the past so when my future arrives, I won’t forget everything.
Kyan and I have spoken in length about my destiny. It isn’t pretty.
Someday soon, I’ll be brought before King Aloysius. It’s unclear if this will be by choice or not, but I’m sorta leaning toward the latter because I’m not exactly keen on the idea of just turning myself over. Aloysius is a man of great power. He controls minds, bending people’s wills to his own. Drakon possesses similar abilities, but not quite on the same level of grandeur.
When I first heard of Aloysius’s desire to claim me as his own, I felt numb first and angered later. That anger hasn’t helped convince me that submitting myself to the king’s mind games is the best plan. Kyan says it is my destiny. Marry Aloysius, assume the throne, and then overthrow his rule. The only kicker is that he doesn’t have an accurate timeline on when all of that is supposed to happen.
As I reach for the final peg holding my tent down, I shudder at the thought of that vile man touching me. I’ll no longer be in control of my actions, a mere puppet to be played with at will. How can anyone accept such a fate?
“You all right?
I look up to see Carleon hovering anxiously over me. His pack is made and I’m shocked to see that he has a plate of steaming venison held out to me. “You’ve been zoned out for a while. Everyone is almost ready to go and you’re still messing with your tent.”