Sweet Innocence and Gentle Sin || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Chapter 31: What Was That?

And you don't seem to understand. A shame, you seemed an honest man.

~)(~

I could sense us getting closer to the border. The sweetness in the air brought from flowers up ahead made Cassian sneeze every few minutes, spooking his poor horse. Of course, it would be easier to fly, but then half of the group would be left behind.

I swayed from side to side on my horse, a dark grey Ardennes who was clearly mine because he was practically sleepwalking. If I wanted to, I could curl into a fairly comfortable sleeping position atop his massive frame and no one would question it.

My eyes were weighing more, forcibly closing and gluing to keep me from opening them again. I fought back sleep as much as I could though, not wanting to miss anything important. It didn't take long for me to be woken up immediately, though.

I glared to my side, where the shadowsinger rode, his horse edging closer to mine. I watched the two sniff each other's noses before they returned to a steady pace. Great, now he was riding beside me.

When he said nothing, I snapped, "What do you want?"

He scoffed. "I can't ride anymore? At this point, you're going to ban me from breathing."

"No—I—well, you're riding too close."

"I'm not sick. Calm down." At this point, I was going to punch him. No, I was going to shoot him right between the eyes.

Irritated rage was bubbling up at this point, making me hot with anger and ready to fight. I could control my temper normally, but something about his annoying voice and judging face made it impossible to hold back. I wanted to hurt him, wanted to break him.

"What will it take to get you the hell away from me?" I asked, mocking a sweet tone.

"Not going anywhere, pri—" he stopped himself, looking down.

I averted my eyes, feeling the sudden sting in my nose. A sign of tears—which I hated more. No one called me that anymore—I don't think anyone ever did... except him. Why did that make me so... melancholic?

The silence broke when he changed the subject. "Why'd you change your name?"

I gave him a confused look. "Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged. "Well... you have a pretty name—had."

For some reason, my cheeks felt hot. Damnit.

I focused my attention on the road ahead and said, "I didn't want anyone to know who I was, that's all."

I didn't want him to find me. And I didn't want him looking for me. I guess... part of me wanted to be dead so I could forget him—I wanted that part of me to forget.

"Then why did you fake your death?"

He brought it up so casually, like this was some small talk over wine. I... I thought little about it other than how much easier it was to hide myself. But he made me think of that painfully difficult reason.

I wanted to forget all of it. Every devastation, every loss of hope and freedom I fought so hard to get. He was this living memory, trapped in the nightmares of my past, wanting to remind me every second of what I did terribly wrong. All I could see when I looked at him was that blood-covered hallway and the choking gasps echoing through a cave.

"Take a wild guess," I said, avoiding his question.

He caught on and only smirked. "No, I don't think I will. I do like this name though—not as much as your old one."