The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 27

Cloak is waiting for me at the farthest end of the courtyard. I spot him blending into a bushel of buckbrush, kicking at a pebble on the ground with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a pair of cinch-waist pants. He senses me and looks up, stopping that bored mantra of pebble-kicking, and has the audacity to flash a toothy grin.

What has gotten into him? Does he take pride in knowing the queen's threat to my life hangs over my head?

The sun gleams on his shirtless back, casting rays onto the ridged scars crossing together over rumps of muscle. Intimidation washes over me, leading me to stare at that lonely pebble rather than what training does to his body after so many years of refusing to fail.

"Are you ready to run?" he asks.

"What?"

He steps closer, only a hair's breadth away, and repeats himself. "I said, are you ready to run?"

Out of all the things we could do together, the most important being going to his mother and telling her he's officially healed, this is the last thing I wish to do. I don't care for running, especially not since the only time I find myself doing it is to get away from someone. Whether a stumbling drunk following me late in the evening, the Void Queen killing my friends and family; running is only for those that don't have to look over their shoulder to a twitching shadow following them around every corner.

"Why do you think this is a good idea?" I retort. He watches me shift my weight from one hip to the next. "Running won't get us anywhere."

"I have strong reason to disagree." With that, he backs away, staring at me all the while. The playful stare on his face demands a chase and an invisible question.

Am I willing to put up with his shit?

He spins, twisting on an elegant heel, and disappears into the trees. One second, he's there, and another, the thick brush and low branches swallow him whole. The only thing left behind is the swaying of leaves and distant crack of branches underneath his shoes as he takes off down a winding trail that leads nowhere.

I close my eyes and breathe a deep sigh. Instead of participating in his foolish games, I can go back to the palace and wait for him there. Either way, whether I take part in this chase, he'll be angry at me tomorrow. So what's the risk? I unleash the Luminary power within that searches for a moving target, finding an enemy in the dark, and like an invisible coil, it whips out, slithering through the branches and underneath roots to find the thundering beat of Cloak's feet hitting the ground with each step.

His movements are nimble; he leaps over rocks and climbs boulders without care. I glance over my shoulder at the looming spikes of the castle's turrets and set my jaw. I've already locked myself to his twisting and complicated path throughout the woods, I might as well follow him.

I push aside the low branches and squeeze into the woods, suffocated by dense nature. My sight changes completely. When I glance back, I can't see the palace through the trees or the wide courtyard bordered on stables and gardens. The whistling wind captures and smothers the voices of the servants, replacing their soft tones with birds chirping and the sway of the higher branches brushing against each other in a gentle breeze. 

Pine overtakes my senses, mingling with the buck brush and aspen trees. The sky breaks through the cluster and lights the way, streaming around chunks and grazing against the covered surface. The longer I wait, taking in the beauty of the woods, the farther Cloak pulls himself away. Already, he's far enough that I'll actually have to run, but my Luminary intelligence tells me to turn in another direction. A shortcut.

Stepping carefully over a root protruding from the ground, I follow that invisible rope tugging me towards Cloak and break into a jog. The woods blur around me. The trees that once stood so tall and wide are hardly blockades—I dodge them swiftly and leap over the roots attempting to snatch my ankles. My hands scrape against the same boulders Cloak climbed over minutes ago. His lingering warmth tells the searching magic to head straight, through a spindled mess of thin trees overcome by cobwebs and morning dew.