Night’s darkness finally settled in, and with it came the abrupt cessation of rain. One moment, the sky wept in steady sheets; the next, the world quieted to little more than the gentle rush of waves licking the shoreline. But that hush brought Elle no comfort. Cold settled into her bones despite the diminishing flames of the campfire. She occasionally glanced at Ashra, if that was even his real name, sitting upright on a makeshift seat fashioned from a fallen tree trunk.
He seemed entirely at ease. Legs stretched out, back leaning against the trunk, eyes half-lidded. The flickering firelight danced across his damp hair, catching the faint lavender tint in his cheeks.
He’s not even worried I might attack him, she thought, resentful. He’s not even looking at me.
The embers glowed low, spitting tiny sparks into the humid night air. Elle tried to doze, but wariness won out. She hadn’t forgotten how close she had come to death earlier nor the fact he’d threatened to break her ankles. No matter how heavy her eyelids felt, she refused to let them close.
Ashra, on the other hand, dozed lightly, his breathing deep and steady. He was not scared at all. She clenched her fists. Part of her yearned to creep away into the darkness, but the memory of his blade at her chest still left her trembling. And where would she even go in this unknown land?
Before long, dawn claimed the sky in pale pink hues and diluted golds. The persistent chorus of seabirds replaced the night’s silence. Ashra stirred awake at the first shift of color, blinking once before fixing his gaze on Elle. The faintest trace of amusement flickered in his jade eyes, though his mouth remained a flat line.
Exhaustion weighed on her, making her limbs feel numb. She scowled at him, suspecting her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes shadowed with fatigue. “Are you always able to sleep so soundly in the company of your enemy?” she asked, bitterness dripping from each syllable.
He moved without hurry, leaning forward to gather his belongings, mostly damp cloth and supplies, tucking them carefully into a small leather pouch at his waist. “I know when to conserve energy,” he replied matter-of-factly, glancing her way. “I’d advise the same, princess.”
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Elle’s eyes narrowed at the black bag he was cramming items into. “What is your bag?” she asked, failing to mask the curiosity in her tone. Tiredness must have softened her usual defiance.
He paused, arching a brow. “A Bottomless Bag,” he replied, cinching the flap. “It can hold many things. Quite useful.”
She edged closer, intrigued despite herself. “How does it work?”
A flicker of surprise touched his face. Perhaps he hadn’t expected genuine interest. “It’s enchanted. Objects can be placed inside without regard to size or weight constraints…within reason.”
“I’ve never seen one before,” she admitted, her honesty slipping out before she could cloak it. “I’ve…well, I’ve never been outside the Shimmering Spires. Spent my entire life there.”
A moment of quiet passed. Early sunlight filtered through the ragged tarp they’d propped overhead; it painted the sand in watery gold streaks. Ashra studied her, expression unreadable. Then he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, as though filing away this tidbit of information.
Elle tried not to squirm under his silent regard. His calm was unsettling, like that of a coiled predator who did not need to bare fangs. She cleared her throat, eyes flitting to the bag again. “So…where do you plan to go now?” she ventured, voice tight.
He snorted softly, returning his attention to stowing the last of his items. “Somewhere away from here,” was all he said. He glanced once more at the dying fire, then back at her. “You should decide if you plan to tag along or strike out on your own. If you’re bold enough, that is.”
A retort formed on her tongue, but she bit it back. If they remained in this uneasy truce, it might be her sole chance to survive long enough to find her friends. Stifling a yawn, she shot him a suspicious glare, letting the morning breeze stir the sticky strands of hair from her face.
He returned her glare with a small, polite smile, as if her distrust amused him. “You best adapt, then,” he said. “Good luck.”
In one smooth motion, he slung his cloak over his shoulder and turned, making a brisk stride toward the looming jungle’s edge. Elle’s mouth fell open in part disbelief, part indignation. Did he really expect to steal from the Land of Eternal Light, claim a princess hostage (however briefly), and then calmly walk away?
“Hey!” she shouted, voice cracking. “Where are you going, criminal? You think you can just walk off and escape? You’ve stolen from Elytheris!”
He didn’t even glance back, his steps surefooted on the jungle’s uneven terrain. Grumbling under her breath, she scrambled after him. Green blades and sharp sticks cut into her bare feet, earning gasps of pain. She did her best to ignore it, too riled up by his dismissive attitude to let him slip away again. Finally, she closed the distance, catching his shoulder with one hand.
“Stop right there!” she hissed, breathless.
