The Book of Trials || ONC 2019

Chapter Eighteen

Lefeli all but screamed when she spotted us, and after knocking me to the ground in an overdramatic embrace, she wiped her eyes daintily and stood, dusting off her dress as if she hadn't just covered Jaren's blanket—which was wrapped around me—in mud. She then proceeded to tell me that Evyne and Atlas had gone to the river to search for me, and the moment I finished introducing Jaren and his offer to Lefeli, we were off down the ravine to find them.

I pulled Jaren along by the hand as if his long legs couldn't already keep up with mine, which were still awkward and numb and tangled between two layers of skirts leaden with water. More than once I tripped over myself and Jaren had to catch me, which rekindled memories of when Atlas had done the same thing back in Tremie's dress shop. I thanked him meekly and kept sprinting down the decline until I heard the rushing water of the river fill my ears like bubbly foam. I soon after sighted two figures crouched on the riverbank handling something between them.

"Evyne! Atlas!" I shouted over the distance and the splashing of the river.

Before I reached them, though, the memory of my night spent on the riverbank flashed across my mind. I still didn't know whether or not Atlas—or Evyne, for that matter—had stolen my mother's necklace, which thumped now against my neck like a reminder of the words she'd warned me with about whom to trust, and whom to not. Were they friends or enemies? How could I tell? All of this flew by me so fast, hitting me like an arrow to the chest, and then the moment was gone, the thought nothing but just that—a fleeting image I no longer remembered.

We reached the bank where the two of them sat, eyes wide in surprise, Atlas' mouth hanging open, Evyne's clamped tightly shut. Atlas' gaze flicked confusedly between Jaren and myself, our hands still intertwined, but Evyne was the first to act by launching to her feet and thrusting a fist in the air, swearing loud enough I was sure Lefeli could hear it. "Where the bloody death did you traipse off to in the middle of the night?"

I realized just as soon that she had dropped the thing they were handling, which was Atlas' sling, and though Evyne continued to furiously reprimand me, Atlas still struggled with the loose fabric, his attention switching between that and us for several seconds before he twisted his face and threw the cloth down.

"Who is he?" Atlas interrupted Evyne's rant with a jut of his chin in Jaren's direction.

I released his hand and let Jaren step forward; he was surprisingly unaffected by the run down half the mountain, a healthy tint to his cheeks the only noticeable result of it. "Allow me to introduce myself."

Atlas audibly huffed and I was sure he would have folded his arms had one of them not been injured.

Jaren continued. "My name is Jaren Leimattes and I travel under Madame Mylda Meeker, mistress of the Meeker House in Azareba, where we have offered to take Miss Ilyavei and her companions, if they would have us." His smile was warm enough to have held the very heat of the sun, and I glanced away, dazzled.

Atlas had narrowed his eyes during Jaren's speech, but Evyne looked as if he had offered her a diamond-embedded coach ride to a gilded mansion in the city. "Yes!" She barked a laugh, slapping his shoulder with a sturdy hand. "We would absolutely love to hitch a ride with you to Azareba."

"Lovely!" Jaren's smile brightened even more.

"Atlas," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral as I stepped beside him, "do you need some help with your sling?"

He glared at me. "No, I don't. I have it perfectly under control." He plucked one end of the sling and tossed it over his shoulder, then attempted to do so with the second end and knocked the first one down into his lap again. He cursed under his breath.