Ruined (Ruined, #1)(69)

He shifted his gaze to her to find her glancing back at him again. Something about her face was different since he’d found out who she was. It wasn’t just that he knew who she was; it was as if something had shifted inside her. He hadn’t realized she’d been tense around him, but he recognized the absence of it now.

He quickly looked away. He wished he could shut off his brain and stop wondering about her. It must have been easier to be his father, to be certain in his hate for the Ruined, to be unable to see shades of gray.

She stopped, putting a hand out behind her to indicate he should stop as well. Her fingers curled around the hilt of her sword, but she didn’t pull it out, and he followed her lead.

Two figures passed through the trees. Cas and Em both hit the ground at the same time, crouching in the dirt. The men’s voices were low, muffled, but their white-and-red jackets were clearly visible from this distance. Warriors.

A small open-air wagon passed by with two Lera soldiers bound together in back. He swallowed, wondering how many of the soldiers had been captured on their way to the Southern Mountains. Would his mother and Jovita even be able to make it? What would they find when they arrived?

He stood as the warriors headed in the direction of the city. He took a few steps forward until he could see a small cluster of wooden buildings. Warriors swarmed all over the area. They’d taken the city.

“I’m sorry,” Em said softly.

His anger at her flared up without warning, and he barely held back from screaming Whose fault is that? at her. But the last thing he needed was to attract the attention of those warriors, or any others in the area. His jaw tightened, and she lowered her eyes, like she could tell what he was thinking.

They turned away and headed back into the cover of jungle. His shoulders slumped as he walked, and Em kept glancing at him like she wanted to say something. Apparently there was nothing to say, because she was quiet on the walk back.

Aren’s voice rang out suddenly, loud and clear. “I told you, she’s not here.”

Em came to a halt.

“Keep him quiet,” another voice hissed, barely audible.

Cas crept forward with Em until they could see the source of the voice. Iria, Koldo, and Miguel stood a few paces away, Miguel with his arm in a makeshift sling and a sour expression on his face. There were three others, and Francisco was on the ground with a gruesomely twisted neck. The other three were in a circle around Aren, who had his hands bound and a strip of white cloth tied around his head as a blindfold.

“She took off. We had to split up,” Aren said, much louder than necessary. He was trying to warn Em.

Cas glanced over to find a pained expression on her face as she watched. She reached for her sword and began pulling it out, like she was going to attack.

He grabbed her hand, stopping her. She swallowed, throwing another desperate glance at Aren.

“Spread out,” Miguel said. “She can’t have gone far, if he’s here.” He jabbed a finger at Iria. “Not you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, taking a step closer to Aren. “I’d prefer to stay with him anyway.”

“Koldo, watch her,” Miguel spat. “Otherwise the Ruined might be gone when we get back.”

Em wrapped her fingers around Cas’s, tugging him gently. Regret was etched across her features as she glanced back at Aren. She was going to leave him.

They stepped away from the warriors carefully, quietly, then broke into a run. Cas jumped over vines and weaved around holes in the dirt as he followed Em. His legs were longer than hers, and he could have gone faster. He could have sped around her and taken off in his own direction and left her behind. He didn’t. He stayed behind her, for no other reason than it seemed exactly the right thing to do.

When they slowed to a stop they were both breathing heavily, and Cas put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the area. A rustling sound came from somewhere to his left, and he spun around, searching for the source. Nothing.

Em darted behind a tree, pressing her back to it, and Cas did the same across from her. He carefully withdrew his sword. Footsteps echoed through the jungle.

The footsteps slowed, then stopped.

A bead of sweat trickled down Cas’s forehead, but he didn’t dare move to wipe it away. He was still breathing heavily, and he worked to become silent.

The footsteps drew closer, until the tip of a white jacket appeared in Cas’s peripheral vision. Miguel.

He turned. His eyes met Cas’s.

Cas spun away from the warrior, before he even attempted to attack. Miguel dove for him. Cas flicked his sword up, shoving it straight into the warrior’s stomach. Miguel opened his mouth to yell, his sword spinning in his wrist haphazardly.

Em’s sword sliced across the warrior’s neck. His head toppled to the ground.

The body slumped into the dirt, and Cas noticed that Em had to look away, her face crinkling in disgust.

“Take his sword,” she said. “It’s better than the one you have.”

Cas dropped the rusty sword and grabbed the warrior’s.

“Let’s go.” She broke into a run.

When they came to a stop again, Cas pointed in the direction of the river. “A boat would be easier.”

She took a sip of her water and handed it to him, wiping a hand across her mouth. “Of course it would. But we don’t have one.”