The Love of a Wielder (Book Two of The Wielders Trilogy)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

They kept riding, following the stream north into the mountains, until the sun was nearly set. They made camp by the stream, where there was a sturdy tree to tie the horses. Donovan collected wood for a fire while Maren unpacked what they needed for dinner.

They debated setting up the tent, but ultimately decided against it. It was chilly, but the sky was clear, and they thought they'd be warm enough with the fire and the bedrolls. And the truth was, they were too tired to try to figure out how to do it. Hopefully, the weather would hold until they made it to Karlyn's cabin, and then they could deal with the tent.

There had been a good bit of tension between them as they rode. They handled the business of getting through the day pleasantly enough, but they didn't discuss anything else. Donovan knew Maren needed space, but he also thought she needed to talk to him. He couldn't make her, though. He'd have to wait for her to be ready.

"You know, I pictured what this trip looked like when you first told me about it, but it's not at all what I expected," Donovan said after they had finished eating something the soldiers assured them was edible but was not overly pleasant. He hoped engaging Maren on some other topic might help.

She smiled, "Well, you're half right. I only ever made this trip in late Spring. I've never seen it in Autumn before.

It was beautiful, rocky and somewhat sparse, but there were plenty of trees turning brilliant shades of orange and red. It felt like a painting.

He was thinking about the night she told him about running away from home. She hadn't wanted to, and it had been a painful telling for her. He knew it was difficult for her to remember the fear of those days.

But she had made a bargain with him. It seemed like so long ago, he barely remembered it. He told her about his first two Selections, and she had told him about her thirteenth birthday.

Obviously, that sort of tit-for-tat would be completely inappropriate for this circumstance, but perhaps...

"I wish we had some brandy," he said after they ate.

"As lovely as that sounds, I'm not sure if I can stomach it, you can have mine," she said with a smile. She seemed to be doing alright with her morning sickness, but Donovan had seen enough to know it was an ever-present thing.

"I think I'd need it... I think... I want to tell you what happened while I was at the palace, if that's alright," he said.

Even in the low firelight, he could tell she was surprised, but then her surprise turned into sympathy, and she said, "Of course."

So he did. He told her everything that happened in his parents' sitting room: how Kieran killed their father, how he trapped Donovan and his mother there, and how he had broken out eventually. He also told her how awful it was to know that she needed him, and he could do nothing to help her, and how terrible it had been to be helpless while his father died.

"It still doesn't feel real. I know what happened, I know my father is dead, but...there was no funeral, no chance to say goodbye. It doesn't feel like something that truly happened," he said.

She nodded. "I think grief is often like that. And it isn't as though we've had a particularly peaceful time since then. You've barely had time to breathe, much less mourn."

He nodded, there was a lot of truth to that.

"It was difficult to be so helpless for so long. And then to have it happen all over again with Kieran at the roadblock..." he trailed off, not sure how to say what he was feeling.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I know... I know that was awful for you."

His heart ached for her. He had no doubt that had been just as awful for her. He pulled her close, and they lay together leaning against one of the packs.