"Outside Highwyn, most people don't have tablets." And for those who did, this was simply another problem I'd have to deal with.
But not right now. The hay beck
oned me to rest, and Simon would benefit from sleep too. He removed his sword and laid it within reach. I patted down a place beside him, resting against his arm, though I was surprised he didn't pull me in any closer.
Tension was thick in his voice when he said, "We still need to talk about the dagger."
"Hush. We need this ride more. No talking."
Obviously, we needed to be quiet, but our aged driver was still singing, and between that and the crunch of the wagon wheels on the dirt road, he wasn't likely to hear us.
Simon kept pushing. "Where is the Olden Blade now?"
The final question I knew he'd ask.
My answer was ready. "It's safe, and my secret alone. There are no remaining clues to its whereabouts. When we get to Tenger, I'll tell him the terms of our agreement will change. If anything happens to me, that dagger will be lost forever."
He scoffed. "You're going to blackmail the Coracks?"
"They blackmailed me. I think it's fair."
"Tenger is not interested in fairness. He's interested in winning."
"So am I." With that, I rolled away from him, taking a few breaths in hopes of leveling my temper.
"Don't turn away. We have to settle this."
"It is settled, Simon. You just don't like the answer." He protested that, but I ignored him, determined to either sleep or pretend to.
Beside me, I felt his energy stirring like a boiling pot. It would frustrate him to wonder how close he had come to getting the Blade, and how far from it he was now. I knew he'd still try to get answers from me, but it wouldn't work. He'd learn nothing about the Blade, not until I was ready. With those thoughts swirling in my head, it was a long time before I fell asleep. When I awoke sometime later, he had fallen asleep too.
Our driver was no longer singing, but a light rain pelted the canvas. If we were careful, the rainfall would mask any sound of our being in here.
I studied Simon, still asleep close beside me. A small scar lined one eyebrow. I'd never noticed that before. When he was awake, there was always a tension in his expression, even when he was smiling. But now, he looked younger, in need of tenderness rather than another fight. If I were anyone else, I could have been that person for him. I could have shared my heart with him and together, he and I would have faced whatever the future held.
If I were anyone else.
That single thought put an ache in the back of my throat, one that threatened to choke me if I couldn't distract myself. Then I remembered the trunk next to me, full of dresses. Perhaps this trunk offered a greater blessing than if it had been filled with coins. I pushed through the dresses until I found one that should fit me and that was slightly less hideous than the others. It was an off-shoulder pale green gown with a cream lace corset, one I could tie without help. No beadwork or sash seemed to belong to this gown, but the poor rarely wore those anyway. The dress possibly outdated Antora itself, and there was a tear in one seam of the arm, but who was I to judge? Last night, I'd cut off the entire bottom half of my skirts, which now dangled unevenly just below my knees. My overdress was stained with mud, its original color unrecognizable. And I was sure the fabric had picked up any number of odors from the dungeons, a smell I had no desire to remember.
I checked again to be sure Simon was asleep, then removed my overdress. Beneath it, the upper half of the shift was intact, and the green dress's long skirt would hide the ruined lower half anyway. I didn't find any cloaks in the trunk, but the sleeves of the dress were long and I had Simon to help warm me. This dress was an unforgiveable offense to fashion, but it was good enough for now. I'd just avoid looking down at it. Forever, if necessary.
As soon as I finished, I turned to see Simon lying on the hay with his hands behind his head, staring at me with a smile on his face.
I tilted my head, amused by the gleam in his eyes. "You were watching me?"
His grin widened, suddenly mischievous. "Only for the last few minutes ... unfortunately."
Playfully, I swatted at his shoulder, but he caught my hand and pulled me down to him, face-to-face. The quiet laughter between us quickly became serious. Time itself seemed to slow. He was staring at me again but I knew he would not let me go. Nor did I want him to.
He leaned up on one arm, bringing his body closer to mine. His lips closer to mine. Our noses touched, and his breath was on my cheek, a reminder for me to exhale, if I could. Then his hand was on my waist, and I brushed my fingers across his shoulder. When he drew back again, enough that our eyes met, his gaze burrowed so deep into me that I felt myself letting go of the outside world. Letting go of my past and my worries and everything that stood between him and me. Letting go of my last secret.
No, not that one.
But it seemed he was going to try. Keeping his voice low, he said, "I'm going to make a guess. If I'm right, our game continues."
I groaned. "No, Simon--"
His knuckle followed my jawline. "You want us to be closer, but it frightens you."