The corner of my lips ticked up as I turned to Zafir, goading him with this new bit of information. “Hear that, Zafir? Charlie. You can call me Charlie.”
“Oh, yeah . . .” Floss agreed, his eyes going theatrically wide, and then he winked at me. “I get it. Charlie’s a boy’s name. No one’ll ever suspect.”
I frowned at him, surprised he wasn’t faster at making the connection between my given name and my childhood nickname. “Really, Florence?” I drawled, dragging out his name. “I should think you, at least, might be more . . . flexible when it comes to that particular distinction.”
Floss’s face fell and he frowned back at me. “Fine. Charlie it is. Charlie’s a perfectly good girl’s name, I suppose.” And then he changed the subject. “We got a fire going, and Jeremiah’s gone after some rabbit, or whatever else he can snare, so we’ll have the girl . . .” He paused as my eyebrows rose in warning, and his jaw clenched at the unspoken reminder. He lifted his fist to his lips and cleared his throat. “I mean, Avonlea’ll cook us up some dinner. We’ll camp here for the night, and be on our way again at daybreak. If that’s a’right with you . . . Charlie.”
I smiled, happy to hear my name on the lips of someone other than my closest friends and family. I wanted Zafir to say it, too, although I doubted he’d ever give in. It would be nice to see him loosen up a little.
Instead, I turned to Floss, asking him a question that had been bothering me. “Why are you doing this? Helping us, I mean. Why not just let the plan unfold and let whoever’d planned to kill me . . .” It felt strange saying the words out loud. “Why not let them?”
Floss grinned, his revolting toothy grin. “Could’a, I s’pose.” He shrugged. “But I was hopin’ there’d be something in it for me if I helped you out. Some sort of re-com-pense for my services.”
I frowned, turning to Zafir who didn’t seem confused at all. “A reward,” he clarified. “He wants a reward for saving your life.”
“Oh.”
Floss’s grin grew. Toothier. More revolting.
“I—I’m sure we can figure something out.” Was all I could think of.
But, again, Zafir helped me out. “You’ll be compensated. But remember this, if we find out that you’re in any way responsible for what’s happened out here, if you orchestrated any of this for your own gain—”
Floss lifted a finger, interrupting Zafir, one eyebrow raised knowingly. “From what I hear, the gallows’re long gone. What’re you gonna do?” he challenged. “Send me to the Scablands?” He barked at his own joke, and then waved off the idea. “Don’t worry. I’m clean as a whistle. And I’ll be collectin’ my reward because I have no intention of lettin’ any harm come to”—he dropped his voice—“Her Majesty here.” He smiled again, and then left us standing there while he whistled an off-key tune.
I started to follow Floss back to where the others were gathering, to where they’d tethered their horses and a blazing fire was starting to swell and dance.
Zafir stopped me, his hand gripping my wrist. “You can’t go over there. You need to wrap your cloak as tightly around yourself as you can and stay here, away from everyone.”
I glanced down at myself. In the dying light of the day, my glow was finding its way out from between the folds of black fabric. Almost unnoticeable, but not entirely. Not hidden enough.
I knew he was right—we couldn’t risk it. But my body was already trembling from the chill.
“We’ll build our own fire, and I’ll bring you some food once it’s ready. I’m sorry, Your Maj—” He stopped himself, and I could see that it was killing him to take Floss’s warning to heart. “I’m sorry” was all he managed through gritted teeth.
I watched as he left to gather firewood, and I hunkered down on a boulder, drawing my knees up close to me. I pulled my hood around my face, cocooning myself inside the soft wool. I was grateful for the moment’s peace, at least, grateful to be alone, even if I was cold. Sabara’s voice had grown quiet over the long day, despite the unnerving dream. She seemed to have withdrawn for the time being, leaving me in relative peace.
Maybe something good had come out of being on the Scablands, after all.
It wasn’t until I found myself lying facedown in the dirt that I came fully and completely awake. Until that moment, I’d simply thought I was having another one of Sabara’s dreams. The vague buzzing, a blur of voices and shouts, could have easily been coming from inside my own head.
Now, however, I could taste the stringy meat Jeremiah had brought back with him—some sort of scruffy-coated animal I hadn’t been able to identify, a meal that hadn’t settled well in my stomach in the first place—against the back of my tongue. I gagged on the gamey flavor as I struggled against an immovable weight that pinned me to the ground.
A hand shot out to cover my mouth and my eyes went wide.
“Silence,” Zafir’s whispered voice warned at my ear.
I nodded, not sure what I was agreeing to, but clear that he wasn’t asking for my cooperation. I’d just been issued an order.
When he was sure he’d gained my compliance, he released me, jumping off me and getting to his feet in one nimble motion. He kept me behind him as I struggled to sit upright.
I scanned the area around the embers from our fire, which had been smaller than the other one. I tried to see past it and into the darkness beyond, where it sounded like there was some sort of struggle taking place.