Spin the Dawn(66)

His lips were soft, despite the desert’s unrelenting dryness. A shiver flew up and down my spine, even though his breath was warm, and his arm around me even warmer.

The world beneath me spun. I felt Edan’s hands clasp under my knees, and the pressure of standing disappeared. He was carrying me! But I was too tired to care. He was strong, and he crouched low to enter a tent. I turned away from the light.

“Don’t enchant me into falling asleep,” I warned him drowsily.

“I don’t think you need any help with that tonight.”

I knew he was right, even as I defiantly tried to stifle a yawn. “I’m going to stay up. I’m going to watch you change into a hawk. Don’t you dare touch me. I know you enchanted me last night.”

Edan’s hand hovered above my forehead, but he pulled it away and didn’t touch me. “Sleep well, my Maia.”

Curse him, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. They closed, and my mind lingered on a forbidden thought before slipping into slumber.

I wish Edan had kissed me.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


Pain roared in my ears. My head throbbed so violently I feared it would split in two. Standing up only made it worse, and every step sent a pang to my skull.

Edan’s grin didn’t make things better. “Morning, xitara.”

“Don’t you have something to make the pain go away?” I pleaded.

“I brought medicines for cuts, burns, and bruises,” he replied with a laugh. “Not for the aftermath of drinking oneself into a stupor.”

Miserably, I glared at Edan. “You’re the one who told me to drink.”

“I didn’t know you’d finish the entire gourd!”

“I don’t remember that.” I clutched at my temples, groaning. “My head feels like it’s being attacked by demons.”

“It’s not as bad as that,” Edan assured me. There were shadows under his eyes again, and I wondered how much sleep he had gotten. “Trust me.”

He passed me a canteen full of lemongrass tea Korin had brewed. “Here, it’ll help.” As I drank, he looked at me earnestly. “I shouldn’t have goaded you into drinking, especially so soon after a fever. I’m not used to taking care of another person.”

I softened in spite of myself. “Being an enchanter sounds like a lonely job. Tailoring is too.” I cleared my throat, feeling suddenly awkward.

Edan chuckled. “Come on. The others are getting ready to go.”

We were out of the desert by midday the next day. I almost kissed the Road when I saw it. On this side of the continent, it was merely a narrow, pebble-strewn path, but I didn’t care. Dirt, birds, even the buzzing gnats I had once despised so much—my eyes welled with tears of relief to see them all. And the river in the near distance—so much water!

Leaving the desert also meant parting with our new friends, including the two camels that Edan had agreed to trade for two of Orksan’s horses.

Korin and I hugged each other. “Good luck with your dresses,” she told me. “And thank you for your help. Write to me when you and Delann have settled into your new shop.”

“I will,” I said, pursing my lips. I wished we hadn’t had to lie to her. “I hope our paths will cross again.”

Edan and I waved goodbye as Orksan and his family left. Vachir wasn’t among the group; I hadn’t seen him since midsummer’s night. That unsettled me, but there was nothing to be done.

“I think you’ll like her more than Pumpkin,” Edan said, handing me the reins of my new horse. “Balardan mares aren’t as strong as A’landan ones, but they’re fiercely loyal.” He chuckled. “She’s even got freckles like you.”

I approached my new horse carefully. Pumpkin used to kick whenever I got too close. “Does she have a name?”

“In Balardan, but Orksan welcomed you to pick a new one. I’m naming mine Rook.”

“I’ll call her Opal.”

Opal’s freckles were like dots of honey, but the rest of her mane and coat were white as silk. She gave off a little neigh when I reached out to touch her cheek. I fell in love with her immediately.

“You like her more than me,” Edan pouted.

“That’s not hard to do.” I petted her mane again; then I offered Edan a small smile. “But thank you.”

He cleared his throat. “Have you finished the shoes?”

I huffed at the reminder. By my calculations, I was at least a week behind in my sewing. I took out my needle, certain I could finish embroidering one of Lady Sarnai’s sleeves before we were off again. “No. My own are in good repair, and I need to work on the sun-woven dress.”

“I suggest you readjust your priorities.” He pointed to the Mountains of the Moon rising in the distance. While most of the mountains had gentle, sloping curves, one was so steep I almost mistook it for a pine tree. Even in the summer, it was capped with snow. “See that?”

“Rainmaker’s Peak,” I said, nodding. My hands worked while I glanced up. “It looks like a needle piercing the sky.”

“You’ll be climbing that.”

“What?” I gasped. “It’d be suicide.”

“Not with the proper shoes.”