The Source (Creasan #1)

Chapter 11

Before even the sun rose the next morning, Thea had awoken. Since Lief died, she hadn't slept very well, but last night had been worse than usual. It had nothing to do with the lumpy ground beneath her and everything to do with the prince's words swirling around her head. It infuriated her that he fancied himself an expert on her when he hardly knew her; it infuriated her more that he could have a point. She hadn't missed the way they'd stopped talking when she'd returned to the fire, how laughter and smiles had died in her presence.

Thea had felt lonely several times since Lief. More often than not. But last night had felt different. She wasn't just lonely. She'd been...isolated.

It was the blasted prince's fault.

She stalked away from their little camp, taking care not to wake anyone else. There was only one release for this pent up anger and she had to get it out now. She wouldn't muck up their mission because she was feeling ticked off.

She'd brought extra cloth for this exact instance. She wrapped her knuckles with it, making sure it was a decent cushion. When she was far enough away from the camp that she wouldn't be heard, she slammed her fist into a tree. There was a satisfying crunch from the bark as pieces of wood splintered and shot off. Her arm vibrated with the impact, but her knuckles felt alright. She punched again.

She kept going until sweat dripped down her face and her heart sounded in her ears. With each hit, she felt some of her anxiety melt away. All other concerns blended into the background as her gaze zeroed in on the spot in front of her. She heard Lief's voice in her head. Again. She punched. Again.

***

Fendrel wasn't entirely sure what woke him up, although he was willing to bet it was the new strain in his back from sleeping on the awful, uneven ground. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his neck.

Snow had begun to fall, one or two inches already stacking on the ground.

Everyone else was still asleep, including Brom. Brom had his eyes closed but he was sitting straight up. He must've been the last one to keep watch. Brilliant job he'd done.

Peronell had his arm slung around Carac, and Merek looked the same with Isolde. Thea was nowhere to be found.

The sound of a grunt filtered through the trees and Fendrel's brows furrowed as he listened. There it was again. He debated waking up Brom to go investigate with him, but he decided against it. If it was a danger worth troubling the others, he'd be entirely certain first. No need to give them another reason to dislike him.

Fendrel grabbed his sword and plunged into the trees.

Just a little ways away he discovered the source of it. He hid behind a tree as he watched Thea spar with a nearly bald trunk. Her braid—which had been carefully curled into a bun—had fallen straight down her back. Sweat poured off her as she struck the tree again. Her sword lay on the ground at her feet along with her crossbow and pack, and her coat had been discarded on top of them. Fendrel could see the pure power in her figure, the taut muscles in her arms, the wound up spring in her legs. She was truly a warrior, in mind and body.

Remorse filled Fendrel as he watched her. Of course, he'd assumed she'd lost someone close to her, but hearing the name last night—Lief—made it real. He shouldn't have sunk low enough to try to hurt her when she was clearly still grieving.

Fendrel stepped around the tree and spoke softly. "Thea."

She didn't hear him as she threw another fist into the tree.

He tried again. "Thea!"

Still nothing except a crack from her hit.

He stepped closer, repeating her name. He was nearly upon her now as he shouted her name. "Thea!"