Something With a Prince

Chapter Twenty-Five: Tallethea's Truth--Part one

Lansing

She stared at her hands while the fire blazed between us. We had lost our gear, horses, map, and---dare I say it-- some of our hope. An entire day was wasted and now it would take twice as long to arrive at the castle on foot. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The two of us had blacked out after being thrown from the horse, and by the time we woke it was the middle of the night. So, we trudged to the best spot we could find to build a fire and regroup. Bruises grew like constellations on my back after hitting the ground so hard, but there was nothing to be done about it, so I stayed quiet. I knew Thea was hurt. She cradled her left arm, wincing every time she moved too fast. Yet, every time our eyes met, or when I moved to say something, she would get up for more firewood or rip her eyes from mine and stare angrily at the fire.

My fault. I thought bitterly, glaring at her with a clenched jaw as she tested movement in her fingers. Because everything was my fault.

"Is it broken?" I heard my voice before I felt myself speak. Thankfully, it wasn't as nasty as I had expected it to sound. Thoughts have a way of translating themselves into a conversation whether they have your permission or not.

Thea glared at me, blue eyes narrowed into deadly points, and she stopped moving her hand altogether. "I'm fine."

Her dark hair was undone, cascading over her shoulders in damp waves, covered with dirt and tangled leaves. I wondered whether she consciously felt the need to compete with everything or if it was bred into her somehow.

Perhaps the gods decided that she would be the one to battle the elements just by existing. I roamed over her deep blue eyes, shining nearly black in the firelight, and concluded the sea didn't stand a chance at depth nor color. Her hair was darker than the soil beneath my feet and curled and swayed in a way that would put wind to shame. Dark olive skin, tanned by the sun. She mocked them all and that was just when she rested. All the world was dimmed when she strode into a room or when she was flushed from fighting. A part of me ruptured at the fleeting question of how she might look after being kissed.

Even now as she shot daggers at me, a pathetic part of my brain wished to reach for her and make sure she was alright. I realized my body was barley mine at this moment, as broken as it was, it was just full of reflexes and impulses to help. To heal. Maybe in another universe Thea did not shudder at the thought of me touching her or, you know, find my existence hideous. But she was entirely right. We have never been friends, and she made that clear from the time we were children. I am just the idiot that could not accept it, that still can't accept being hated for no reason.

I suppose it was a good thing there was a fire between us because if all reason were to abandon me, I would be promptly burned. I imagine the flames were the smallest pain in comparison to being burned by the woman that sat behind it.

"You don't look like it." I replied, directing my gaze to her arm. "Unless you define 'fine' as being in pain and refusing to talk about it."

Thea rolled her eyes, and turned away from me, hiding her arm altogether as she straddled the log she was sitting on. Her voice was biting. "I'm. fine."

Fine. I wanted to snap back feeling heat creep up the back of my neck. Instead, I chucked a piece of wood sitting next to my shoe at the fire. Only, it ended up smacking Thea on the leg.

"Don't, Lansing." Her jaw went tight as she looked at me. " I'm warning you."

I hate the way she says my name. Like it's a chore to fit in her mouth and an impertinence to speak it aloud; Lan-Sing.

"What is your problem?" I found my words to be exasperated. She stood up, but I cut her off by standing myself, "Where are you going to go, Thea? Huh?"