Ruined (Ruined, #1)(61)
He finally lifted his head, slowly, and blinked against the sunlight. Everyone was gone. A warm breeze blew through the grass, making it tickle his face, and he almost felt like laughing for a moment. The urge left as soon as it came.
He got to his hands and knees, then to his feet. If the warriors were staying away from the river, then that was exactly where he needed to be. He could follow it almost all the way to Fort Victorra.
He pushed his hair out of his face and ran through the grass, headed for the cover of the trees.
TWENTY-SEVEN
EM WALKED BEHIND Koldo and Iria as they trekked through the jungle. It had been two days since Aren had found them, and she felt better with her friend next to her. He’d pointed out Koldo’s slight limp and bloodied left leg yesterday and she’d been watching it ever since, getting a handle on how he moved in case she needed to defend herself.
They were all silent as the morning stretched into afternoon, and Em couldn’t help but think of Damian. He was the talkative one, the one Aren and Em would have to shush and remind that they were trying to be quiet to avoid hunters. The weight of his absence mixed with her fear for Cas, and every step she took felt heavy.
“Should I carry you?” Aren asked, cocking an eyebrow when she fell behind again.
“Sorry.” She took a couple of quick steps to catch up with him. “I miss Damian,” she said, leaving out the second part of her sadness.
Aren kicked a pebble out of his way. “Me too.”
“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we’d gone into hiding instead of doing all this,” she said, letting herself picture it for a moment. “Like if we’d just found a place to be safe and took some people with us. If I’d married Damian and tried to forget everything that had happened.”
Aren laughed, and she turned to him in surprise. He rolled his eyes at her.
“You never would have married Damian, Em.”
“I . . . I don’t know. Maybe it could have happened, if everything had calmed down.”
Aren shook his head. “If you’d felt that way about him, it wouldn’t have mattered how crazy our lives were. You managed to develop some pretty strong feelings for Cas despite terrible circumstances.” He lifted an eyebrow, and she looked away. He had a point.
“He wasn’t upset about it,” Aren continued. “Disappointed, sure. But he wasn’t waiting or hoping or anything.”
She swallowed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“And you will never be the type to hide,” Aren said. “Everyone else wanted to hide, and you insisted on fighting. I admire you for it.”
“Don’t admire me.” She’d taken the king’s tactics and made them her own. While trying to defeat him she had become him, and that seemed far worse than anything she’d ever imagined.
Aren bumped his shoulder against hers. “Too late.”
Cas’s stomach rumbled for food, and his mouth was so dry that he couldn’t think of much else. The heat inland was almost unbearable, and he wondered why people would live in the jungle when they could enjoy an ocean breeze near the shore.
He was entirely alone, and had been for a full day, but the sounds of the jungle seemed far too loud. He’d never realized how accustomed he was to the sounds of the castle—the hum of the staff moving about, the quiet voices that echoed through the halls, the way the wind would gently rattle his window. Even in the wagon he’d been more comfortable, surrounded by the voices he’d known all his life.
But out here, without another soul anywhere near, the sounds were deafening. The crickets were singing a constant, manic rhythm, and a frog would croak every now and then, as if trying to accompany them. The noise only increased his panic about being completely alone.
He wiped the back of his arm across his forehead and batted a giant green leaf away from his face. He had to be close to the river by now. He couldn’t hear it yet, but he’d headed west after leaving the wagon. Unless he’d drifted off course, he’d be there at any moment.
He trudged forward. His feet had begun to ache, but it was nothing compared to the thirst, and he forced his legs to move faster, until he finally heard the sounds of the water lapping against the shore.
The homes appeared as soon as he was able to see the river, and he stopped, startled that anyone lived out here. He’d known a large number of the Lera people lived in the jungle, but he’d never actually seen them.
The homes directly on the river were built on rafts, floating right on the shore. The homes a bit farther up the shore were built high off the ground, pieces of wood taller than him elevating the homes so they were safe from floods. The roofs were made of woven palms, and some of the homes didn’t have walls. They wouldn’t have needed them, since it was never cold this far inland and they probably welcomed the frequent rain.
He looked from the rushing water to the homes, reluctant to leave the safety of the trees. A woman emerged from one of the raft homes, wearing clothes that must have been brought in from a Lera city. Her skirt was knee-length and bright red, and she wore a white sleeveless shirt. The clothes were old and worn, and she must have had them for a long time.
Another woman followed her, outfitted in a skirt made of dried grass and only a scrap of fabric to cover her chest. They both headed away from Cas.
A whispered voice sounded from behind him. Cas’s body went cold. He slowly looked over his shoulder.