Rock to rock. Step to step.
She’d done ten thousand steps in the House of Wind. Had done more than that over these months. She could do this.
Nesta moved deeper into the water, biting back her cry at its cold.
Emerie swayed and banged into her, and the Illyrian bow’s string dug into Nesta’s chest hard enough to slice the skin. But it held.
Step to step to step.
By the time Nesta returned to the far bank, shaking, near sobbing, the bowstring had drawn blood. But they were on solid land, and her clothes and weapons were there, and—and now to find warmth and shelter.
Nesta laid Emerie on the pine needles, covering her friend with the dry clothes she’d left behind, and gathered what wood she could carry. Naked, shaking, she could barely hold on to the sticks in her arms as she piled them near Emerie. Her trembling fingers struggled to twist the sticks long enough to ignite a spark, to coax the kindling to a flame, but—there. Fire. She raided the area for fallen logs, praying they weren’t too wet from the mists off the rapids to catch flame.
When the fire was crackling steadily, Nesta slithered under her pile of clothes beside Emerie and wrapped her arms around her friend, their skin pressing close. They were both freezing, but the fire was warm, and beneath the male’s large clothes the chill from the water began to fade.
But they were utterly exposed to the world. If someone came by, they’d be dead.
Nesta held Emerie, feeling her body warm by increments. Watching her breathing ease. Feeling her own chattering teeth calm.
Soon it would be night. And what would emerge in the dark …
Nesta remembered Cassian’s tales of the monsters that prowled these woods. She swallowed, wrapping her arms more tightly around Emerie. She glanced at her arm, the charm still glowing faintly, only pointing southward now. A sole glimmer of hope, of direction. What had happened to Gwyn? Was she enduring her worst nightmares again? Was she—
Nesta focused on her breathing. Stilled her mind.
She’d survive the night. Help Emerie. Then find Gwyn.
Around a river, she’d learned on her hike with Cassian, cave systems were often carved out by the water. But to find one, she’d have to leave Emerie …
Nesta glanced at the vanishing sun, then slipped out from under the pile of clothes. She covered Emerie with leaves and twigs, added another log to the fire, and risked taking the male’s jacket to wrap around herself.
Nesta wore the boots, even though her blistered feet objected, and made a careful circle around the campsite, listening for anything. Anyone. Scanning every rock and cleft boulder.
Nothing.
The sky darkened. There had to be caves around here somewhere. Where the fuck were they? Where—
“The entrance is here.”
Nesta whirled, dagger out, to find an Illyrian male standing ten feet away. How he’d crept up, how he’d survived given the gash running down the side of his face—
He noted her own wounds, her nakedness beneath the coat, the bare legs and the boots. The knife.
Yet no lust or hatred clouded his brown eyes.
The male carefully pointed to what she’d mistaken for a leaf-covered boulder. “That’s a cave. Big enough to fit inside.”
Nesta drew herself up to her full height. Let him see the cold violence in her eyes.
“You won’t survive an hour on the ground once night falls,” the male said, his boyishly charming face neutral. “And if you’re not already scaling a tree, then I’m going to guess you’ve got someone hurt with you.”
She revealed nothing.
He lifted his hands. No weapons, no blood on him save the gash leaking down his face. “I came from the landing site to the west.” Where she’d come from. “I saw the body in the gulch—you did that to Novius, didn’t you? He was naked. You’re in a male’s clothes. And that must be the knife that pierced his throat. Do you know who the hell dumped weapons here?”
Nesta kept her silence. Night deepened around them.
The male shrugged when she didn’t reply. “I decided to head northward, hoping to reach Ramiel by a less traveled path, avoiding conflict with the others entirely, if I can. I have no quarrel with you. But I am going into that cave now, and if you’re smart, you’ll bring whoever is with you and come inside, too.”
“And have you take my weapons and kill me in my sleep?”
The male’s brown eyes flickered. “I know who you are. I’m not stupid enough to go after you.”
“It’s the Blood Rite. You’d be forgiven.”