The Boon of Alon

CHAPTER FORTY

"Fake my death?" I ask. "I thought I could just hide up here until it's over."

Chama shakes her head. "Someone's gonna betray us, remember? We can't take any chances with someone letting the rebels know you didn't actually die—that puts Suthi in danger."

Shit. "Then..."

"Tack and I arranged for you to hide in Ecour," she says. "It's just down the mountain, but the opposite side from Pangessa, so you should be safe. Arnet says Iamon will stay with you, too."

At least there's that. Chama gives me a rueful smile.

"I'm gonna pull you aside at training for a 'special training session'," she says. "Make sure you have anything you want with you on you—I had Tack pack you some clothes, but it could be months. You have an hour." She pats my shoulder, nods to Suthi, and leaves us alone.

Fuck. Months? Somehow I had it in my head that the deadline Iamon gave us was going to be the end either way. But if the rebels start talking to the riders again, and the war continues...

"Come on." Suthi nudges me out of my stupor and pulls me back to the dorm. But I don't have a lot that I really want to keep. I rummage halfheartedly through my things, in my one allotted drawer—I took basically nothing from the circuit, either, so it's really just new clothes—and find the shirt Suthi lent me after Iamon saved my life and wrecked my tunic. I never gave it back to her.

"Wasn't that mine?" she asks when I hold it up.

"Do you want it back?" I ask, but I find myself clutching it to my chest. She doesn't quite smile, but she does swallow and blush.

"No," she says.

"Good." I wiggle out of my sweater and put her shirt on over mine instead, and then grab the leather jacket I got some time back, too. The one that holds up against the weather, and makes me feel like I could actually be a rider. Looking the part helps.

Suthi watches me for a moment, then eyes the sweater I just tossed onto my bunk.

"Do you want that in trade?" I tease, trying to lighten the mood, because I feel our deadline like it's a crushing weight on our heads. "It won't fit you, though."

She manages to chuckle at that. "If I had to pick one piece of clothing to remember you by, I think I'd take that dress."

Heh. "Then you can take it. It's in there somewhere." I gesture at the drawer, still open and thoroughly a mess. She looks at it.

"Later," she says. Yeah—we've only got an hour together. And then we might not see each other for months. I think there are better ways to spend our time.

Speaking of—there's at least one thing I want to do with her before we part. And I don't want to do it here, in the dorm where other recruits are wandering in and out all break.

"Come on," I say, and I take her hand and pull her towards the archive. She comes without complaint, until we enter.

"Della?" she asks. I shush her. There are low murmurs that mean we aren't alone in here, but it's about as alone as we can get anywhere in the monastery, so it'll have to do.

I pull her deep into the stacks and she still comes willingly, if hesitantly, trailing at the end of my arm instead of trodding on my heels. The mood is all wrong, but dammit, I just want to kiss her while we still have the chance.

I just want to kiss her.

"Della?" she asks again when I stop us in the middle of a row and turn to face her.

"I just—before I go..." Gods, wasn't she the one who was supposed to have trouble saying things? I beckon her closer instead and she steps in and holds me, lightly, by the elbows. Her brow is crinkled—she looks more worried than anything else. I'm not doing a good job at all telling her what I want.