He probably thinks he's done something wrong. And he hasn't. I just... It just makes no sense to me how he could possibly love someone he's only ever known from afar. Actually, I've never understood love to begin with. The desire to be with someone that your feelings for run so deep, feeling like they're your missing piece, when just the thought of them is enough to make you smile—all the things that you read about in books and hear people talk about. None of it makes sense. And despite how I know I look to other people, I don't want to crush him with the truth—that we would never, could never work. But wouldn't the truth be better than having this nonsense eating away at his heart? At least then he'd be on the right path. It's not like he can't be trusted with a secret. But what if it's too much for him to handle?
I'm trying so studiously to ignore his uncertain eyes flicking to my face that I almost don't notice the sudden rush of illumination leaking in around the curtains. The carriage comes to a jarring, jerking halt, the horses neighing loudly from the spook. My body tenses all over. We were told not to stop under any circumstances, why are we stopped? There's a shuffling sound, footsteps, the sound of weapons being drawn. Immediately I make for the door.
Jem's eyes widen. "No!" he says, grabbing my hand as I reach for the door of the cab. I look at him, surprised. I'd been prepared to jump out, help the others, but the force in Jem's voice is enough to make me pause.
"Don't even try it!" someone outside the cab shouts. A gravelly voice, a man's voice—and an eerily familiar one. Even more light spills in from beyond the curtains.
"No, no you can't," Jem whispers, his eyes pleading. There are rustling sounds outside, metal on metal, cries of agony, the rush of magic, neighing and snorting and stamping of hooves in the dirt. His hand grips mine tighter.
"Jem, I—This is why I'm here." I say, trying to pull my hand from his and urge his understanding with my eyes.
"No it isn't."
He says it with such intensity that, for a moment, all I can do is stare. Another cry of pain pierces into the cab, only to be cut off short. Calmly, quietly, I say, "If I'm not here to protect you, then why am I here at all, James?"
His breath catches. "I—That—It's—" Jem stammers, a battle raging in his pale green eyes, chest rising and falling with panic, mouth open with the words caught in his throat.
There are clangs and thuds coming from outside, the horses sounding angry and scared. And then, suddenly, the commotion stops. "Check the cab," the strangely-familiar voice orders. There are footsteps outside, moving toward us.
He seizes my shoulders, his grip firm. "Hide!" The urgency is beyond anything I've ever heard before. "Please, for all that is good, lay down your sword and hide!" His eyes are frantic as they flick between mine. I hesitate. If I use my shadow magic and hide myself no one will know I'm here, and I could use that. But laying down my sword? "Please." The look in his eyes is almost heartbreaking. Dammit, Jem! I'm not the one that needs protecting here! Against my better judgement, I make myself invisible. A moment of relief washes over him as his eyes no longer register my presence, though his hands on my shoulders still feel me there.
As he moves away, the carriage door flies open, and instinctively I reach for my sword. But I force myself to watch as Jem is forcibly taken from the carriage. I quietly get out after.
The magic-created light is so bright it nearly blots out the stars. In the trees, on the ground, blocking the road—everywhere I look are those stupid boars, the phoenix insignia gleaming on their breastplates. Must they tarnish such a beautiful creature? The armor we have may be nearly indestructible, but against so many at once it wouldn't matter all that much—any soldier would be overwhelmed or worn down till exhausted and collapsed. One of the other three soldiers is lying limply in a widening pool of blood, an arrow in his eye and his throat slit. The other two are lying collapsed on the ground. I can't tell if they're alive or not. At least they didn't go down easy. There had been maybe a hundred of Them, if not more. Now no more than fifty stand, some of whom are injured.
Untitled Part 10
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