Page 85 of Shadow Wings
Ugh, we’re walking again?I grumbled as I sat up, my gaze going to Tyrrik to let him know he was the source of my bad mood. His back was to me, and he leaned over the fire to turn the spit roast, rabbit by the looks ofit.
He stretched his arms up, his borrowed aketon rising to mid-muscly-thigh.
Attraction for the Drae was not part of my current problems. Fire flared low in my belly, and I eyed the bottom of the aketon, willing it to inch up a little more.Show me some more toned Draeleg.
Tyrrik froze, and I blushed though he couldn’t see me where I peeked over the rocks. Dyter, however, did. He glanced back at Tyrrik and faced me with achuckle.
“Like the view?” the old manasked.
I narrowed my eyes. “Nah, I’ve seen better.” I stood and folded up his cloak. Handing it back to Dyter, I said, “Thanks for keeping mewarm.”
He shook his head and pointed at Tyrrik who was now casually cutting the spit roast into edible pieces with his talon. “Thank him; he’s the one who coveredyou.”
Of course he did.Great.
Dyter shoved the cloak in his pack. I couldn’t explain my nervousness, but it was there, crawling through my body at an unreasonablepace.
I shifted from foot to foot, asking, “What’s forbreakfast?”
“Tyrrik caught three rabbits. He saved one foryou.”
Whoever said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was clearly raised in Verald—Ithought the saying pertained more accurately to women. Either way, my heart melted just a little as I watched Tyrrik finish slicing the roast. “A whole rabbit? Forme?”
Dyter looked up from the pack and nodded. “Hurry up. As soon as you’re done, we’releaving.”
I took three blissfully unaware steps toward Tyrrik before the conversation with Dyter fully resurfaced, and my conscience reminded me: I owed Tyrrik an apology for slapping him with thirty-seven branches yesterday. My mum had taught me slapping people was rude. Even if it involved trees. Though I wasn’t entirely sure Tyrrik’s recentlie of omissionwouldn’t bend my mother’s etiquette guidelines, I found I wanted to apologize to Tyrrik for the sake of, well,Tyrrik.Because his face had to have hurt after the twentieth branch slap, and I should’ve stopped after thirteen orfourteen.
I trudged forward, distinctly uncomfortable. What should I say? Sorry, I whacked you a bunch with the branches under the premise I wasn’t aware they would rebound into your really handsome face? I sounded twelve. Probably because I was acting twelve.Nice.As if I didn’t already feel bad enough. Holy pancakes, he was watchingme.
Tyrrik sat on a rock by the fire. His feet were set wide apart, and his inky eyes searched my face with the focus of a hunter searching for his prey’s weakness. Was that aketon normal length? I eyed the hem askance, sure this was a skimpier design. A broody Drae in a skimpy aketon was going to be the death of me. The closer I got to Tyrrik, the more tongue-tied I became. My stomach picked this same time to tieitselfinknots.
I was Ryn the Peacemaker who was also Fearless, and I could do hardthings.
I took a deep breath and stopped in front of the fire, staring at my filthy feet instead of acknowledging Tyrrik. The panels of my skirt were frayed and spotted with mud and other stuff. Tyrrik’s feet were clean except for a dusting of recent dirt. How was that evenpossible?
“Here’s your breakfast,” he said in a lowvoice.
I gulped and raised my chin, but I couldn’t quite get my gaze to meet his. I managed to accept the roasted rabbit, noticing how it was evenly browned and glistening with grease. “Thank you.” I swallowed again and said in a rush, “I’m-sorry-I’m-twelve-and-I-hit-you-with-the-branches-it-won’t-happen-again.”
He pursed his lips. “Pardonme?”
Really? He was going to make me say it again? I met his gaze, and everything else fell away. Tyrrik’s dark eyes were flooded, wholly focused on me, intently so. His brow was furrowed but not in displeasure, more like I was a puzzle he couldn’tsolve.
I let my mental defenses slip, and his concern and worry flooded in. All of it forme.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I hit you with all those branches yesterday. That was immature and . . .unkind.”
He swallowed. “It made you smile, and you know I woulddo—”
“Sorry, love-birds,” Dyter blurted, barreling toward us. “You’ll have to kiss and make up later. We need to leave, rightnow.”
What the hay?He’d been all ‘talk to Tyrrik, Rynnie,’ last night. I turned on Dyter to give him a piece of my mind, but the fear on his face stopped thewords.
“What is it?” Iasked.
Both men spoke atonce.
Dyter said, “Movement coming down themountain.”