Bloodfire Quest (The Dark Legacy of Shannara, #2)(73)

They decided to hold off on employing the Elfstones until either the need was so obvious they could not pretend otherwise or they were close enough to the Bloodfire that it became necessary to pinpoint its source. Caution and sharp eyes and ears would better serve them at this point.

It was a view that was borne out as time passed and the mist remained thick and impenetrable. Aphen eased Wend-A-Way ahead at a slow, steady pace, keeping the airship just above the treetops, doing her best to make the airship disappear into the haze.

She found herself wondering if this had anything to do with Edinja Orle. It had to be someone in the Coalition Council hierarchy if they could command a warship like the one hunting her. But what was the point? If they knew of the failing of the Ellcrys, why would they want to prevent its recovery? The danger to them was as great as it was to the Elves. Could they be hunting her for the Elfstones, for the magic they commanded? Edinja was a magic user. Perhaps the temptation of gaining possession of the Elfstones was too strong for her to ignore.

Her gaze was directed forward into the screen of mist and damp, and it settled now on Cymrian, a fixture against the forward railing just to the starboard side of the bowsprit. She found herself staring at him, fascinated by the fact that he had been standing motionless in that same spot for the entire time since they had set out.

“How does he do that?” she whispered to Arling.

“Do what?”

“Stand like that for so long without moving.”

Arling glanced at her first, then out at Cymrian. “I don’t know.” She paused. “He’s a patient man. You, of all people, should realize that.”

“I suppose that’s so. I’ve watched him.”

“Watched him?” Arling gave a soft snort.

“I don’t mean just here. At other times, too. Lots of times. He knows how to wait on things.”

Arling shook her head. “You are so hopeless.”

Aphen looked at her. “What does that mean?”

“It means that sometimes you don’t see anywhere near as much as people give you credit for.” She gave her sister a look. “I thought you would have figured it out by now, Aphen.”

“Figured what out? What are you talking about?”

“Cymrian. I’m talking about Cymrian!” Arling gave an exasperated groan. “You still don’t understand what he’s doing here? Why he came in the first place? Why he’s put himself in such danger for the both of us when he just as well could have stayed safe and sound back in Arborlon?”

Aphenglow hesitated. “Well, he …” She brushed back her hair where it had fallen over her eyes, damp strands knotting. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he’s in love with you!”

Aphen frowned. “No, he’s not.”

“He is. He has been for years. You wouldn’t know because you’ve been all caught up in your Druid life and haven’t paid any attention at all to what’s going on back here, but he’s been in love with you since you were in training together, years ago. I think everyone knew it—even if they didn’t tell you.”

“But that’s just ridiculous! He barely knows me. Or I him. I didn’t even remember who he was, at first!”

Arling gave her a look. “Yes, you’re right. How could anyone you don’t remember still be in love with you years later?”

They stopped talking for a while, staring out at the mist in silence, concentrating on the movement of the airship through the haze. At the bow, Cymrian brought up his hand sharply and signaled for Aphenglow to swing to the starboard as they altered course. Aphen watched the terrain below them change as the trees began to thin and grasslands to appear. They were back out on the lower Streleheim, clear of the forests and heading south.

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Aphen said finally.

Arling nodded, keeping silent.

“But he’s never said …” She trailed off.

“He wouldn’t. He’s not like that.”

Aphen shook her head in disbelief. The idea of Cymrian being in love with her was so unexpected, she could not bring herself to accept that it was possible. But he must have had a reason for agreeing to be her protector back at the beginning. She had been so dismissive of the idea—and of him—that she might have missed the truth. Then afterward, she had been mourning Bombax, and there had been so many changes and upheavals in all their lives that she hadn’t questioned his motives or his presence but simply accepted both as a given.

“Listen to me, Aphen,” her sister said suddenly. “I’m telling you this because I think it’s time you knew. Way past time, in fact. But I know how you are. You see what you think you need to see and miss other things in the process. This is one of them. Cymrian’s put his life on the line for us. Repeatedly. He’s doing so again now. I think you need to understand why he’s doing it. On the other hand, I don’t want you telling him that you know. Or worse, that you think it’s a mistake. You’re already thinking of telling him that, aren’t you?”

Aphen shrugged. “He shouldn’t be doing this because he thinks he loves me!” She sounded indignant, even to herself, as if this whole effort on Cymrian’s part were some sort of personal affront. She shook her head in dismay and held up her hand in a warding gesture. “I didn’t mean that. That was wrong.”