Illusion of Safety // DreamNotFound

Chapter 8

     Clay didn't like the sky in Valina. Sitting beneath the trees, unable to sleep for several painful hours, the stars provided little comfort. He couldn't find his favorite constellations, and trees kept blotting out his view.

     At least in the wilderness, he could see them. In Aster, light pollution made it nearly impossible to tell day from night. He hoped that Indus wouldn't be terribly similar. Maybe there would be less judgmental people, or smaller buildings.

     Humans were mean, if Clay had learned nothing else. They were perhaps the only species he knew that would react negatively without being provoked, not like fae were terribly different, though. Still, a mask was enough to draw reactions from passing civilians, ranging from subtle to dangerous.

     George had been a slight savior to him since they'd met, though he was not exempt from Clay's discovery. The brunette was mean and nice at the same time, like some sort of confusing animal. He would nurse the fae back to health but reprimand him the entire time.

     There were probably infinitely better people who could've accidentally found Thaeri's lost artifact. Although, George was pretty close to perfect when it came to traveling companions.

     Sure, they fought a lot, but the trader knew every nook and cranny of their area. He was also loaded from the looks of his stuffed coin purse. Whatever George lost from purchases, he regained almost instantly with a charming smile. Clay knew tricksters who could do similar magic, but he had a feeling it wasn't the same.

     George's magic abilities were still a mystery to the fae. Humans were unknown creatures, with vastly varying powers. Ones that called themselves poets had ventured to Thaeri before, teaching their casts to awestruck civilians as if it could simply be passed along. Clay had seen one as a child, so confident and unique with tongues as sharp as silver.

     Life made a lot more sense to him in Thaeri. The geese didn't unravel into horse-spiders, the horses themselves didn't talk back, and the traders weren't so handsomely rude. There were the occasional exceptions, but he could handle it much better.

    Clay missed Thaeri more than ever while he sat atop the stolen mare. George trudged alongside him, his eyes glazed with his usual lost-in-thought expression. It was a face that meant they couldn't talk, and the fae had to entertain himself.

     He attempted to speak to George once, but pulling him from his headspace made his frown deepen. Another thing he noticed, the human had been upset since the day they'd met. Smiles were rare, except when George was working. Frankly, he was so used to the furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips, Clay doubted he could handle George when he was truly happy.

     The horse grunted as she was dragged along the road, and the fae took a sick amusement in her sarcastic disdain. He had nicknamed her "Missy," ever since he called her that to the patrol. It seemed like she was on her way to becoming a permanent member of their party, and it was only fitting that she have a name.

     George breathed something out, briefly distracting Clay. The blonde had to repress a huff when he realized the words had been a part of his companion's daydreaming. It was torture to remain silent for as long as they had been, but George never seemed to mind.

     Part of him wanted to tell the trader about Missy's new name, but he didn't think he was in the mood for the harsh words that would follow. They had both been on edge since George's backstory came into play, which was understandable.

     If Clay had known the tragedies that lingered behind those chocolate eyes, he probably would've kept to himself. Losing parents was hard, even if he didn't understand it exactly. George kept such a straight face, such a rigid façade. To think there was a point in which he had stained his cheeks with tears, felt his lungs burn with the pain of crying for hours.