Esmeralda is worried. I can tell by the way her fingers keep twitching at her sides, like she's physically restraining herself from reaching for her magic. I can also tell by the tightness in her jaw and the way her golden eyes flicker toward the tree line every few seconds, as if expecting an ambush.
She thinks I don’t notice.
She’s wrong.
I step closer, pressing my shoulder against hers. The contact makes her stiffen—just for a heartbeat—before she exhales and leans into me.
"You’re doing that thing again," I murmur.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you forget to breathe."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "I’m breathing just fine."
"Liar." I lace our fingers together, squeezing hard. "Talk to me."
For a long moment, she doesn’t answer. The wind howls through the pines, carryin
