Chapter 28: Anger

Karlos is upset; I can feel it in my bones, a cold vibration that has nothing to do with the mountain air. I watched him in the heavy silence of the clearing, his jaw set in a hard, jagged line as he snapped his fingers. A spark flew from his skin, igniting the tinder with a sudden, violent burst of flame. Even now, after all we’ve been through, it still amazed me to see it—the raw proof that there were others like me, others burdened and blessed with gifts that defied the natural order.

For the longest time, back in the silence of the caves, I truly believed I was the only one in this entire world who was odd. I had spent years viewing my telekinesis as a curse, a flickering shadow that made me feel like a monster masquerading as a girl. But meeting Karlos, and then later, encountering the quiet, mountain-moving power of Zion, had taught me that I wasn't an anomaly. I was just... me. And for the first time, that felt like it might be okay.

"Bran, isn't it a lovely starry night?" I asked softly, tilting my head back to look at the raven. He sat perched on a low-hanging cedar branch, his feathers ruffled against the chill.

Bran gave a quiet, almost contemplative croak in response, his black eyes reflecting the silver pinpricks of light above.

"I missed seeing the stars like this," I murmured, more to myself than to the bird. "Without the obsidian spires of the fortress cutting them into pieces. Here, the sky feels like it goes on forever."

"Figured the castle was a dream come true for you," Karlos retorted, his voice sharp and biting. I didn't have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes, his silhouette hunched over the growing fire. "Probably plenty of stars to see from a royal balcony, I’d wager."

I let out a slow breath, the heat of the fire starting to prickle at my skin. "Karlos, are you angry with me? Truly?"

He shook his head violently, staring into the orange heart of the flames. "Why would I be angry? I’m just the scout who waited in the dirt while you played princess."

"It seems very much like you are."

"I'm not; I'm as happy as a clown at a fair," Karlos replied, his sarcasm so thick it felt like a physical barrier between us. He jabbed at a log with a stick, sending a flurry of angry sparks swirling into the night air.

"Karlos, please. Just tell me what this is about. We’re finally out. We’re finally heading home. Isn't this what we wanted?"

Karlos lowered his gaze, the flickering light of the fire casting deep, hollow shadows across his face. "I think you feel something for him. For Zion."

"I don't," I said, the answer coming out as a desperate, instinctive reflex. "He was a mark. He was the mission."

"Then why do you still have that necklace?" He gestured toward my chest, where the moonstone pendant lay hidden beneath the collar of my tunic, yet its weight felt heavier than the satchel of stolen secrets at my side. "If he’s just a mission, you don't take his heart and wear it around your neck."

"It's supposed to be special," I whispered, my hand instinctively rising to brush against the silver chain. "He told me it was a charm of protection. That it would keep me safe from grave danger on the road back to the border. I felt guilty, Karlos. I felt like a thief, and I didn't know how to refuse a gift given with such... sincerity."

He scoffed, a harsh, jagged sound, and slumped down onto a rotted log. "And yet you sit there and tell me you don't think he's into you? You think Kings hand out family heirlooms to every traveler who wanders through their gates?"

"He may like me, but only as a friend," I responded, my voice wavering as I sat on the log directly across from him, the fire crackling between us like a third party in the argument. "He was lonely, Karlos. He’s surrounded by stone and silence. I was just something new."

"I'm a guy, Diana," he snapped, his hazel eyes finally snapping up to meet mine, burning with a mixture of jealousy and hurt. "Don't you think we know best when a guy likes someone? The way he looked at you at the gate... he wasn't looking at a 'friend.' He was looking at his entire world walking away into the dark."

"I thought you were the loner type," I said, letting out a soft, nervous chuckle to try and break the tension. "Since when did you become an expert on the inner workings of the royal heart?"

"I have been a loner... until now," he admitted quietly, his voice losing its sharp edge and softening into something far more dangerous. "Until you."

The air in the clearing suddenly felt very still. I looked at the sparks dancing between us, feeling the weight of the moonstone and the weight of Karlos’s gaze. "So, how can you be so sure? How can you know exactly what he was thinking?"

"It's an instinct," he said, turning his face away from me. "When you care about someone, you recognize the look in another man’s eyes when he’s trying to steal them away."

"Instinct?" I gawked, a million questions dying on my tongue.

"Doesn't matter now," he sighed heavily, leaning back and looking up at the vast, uncaring expanse of the cosmos. "Boy, look at that sky. It’s a long way to Silvermere, Diana. A long way for memories to fade."

I followed his gaze upward, but all I could see were the stars—the same stars that were currently shining down on the obsidian spires of Fortundra, and the man who was likely standing on a balcony, wondering where his mother’s pendant had gone.