Stolen (Magi Rising Book 2) by Wagner Raye

Author:Wagner, Raye [Wagner, Raye]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: All the Words
Published: 2019-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

18

Esi sighed and wiped the mud from her face—smeared it, really, leaving a dark streak down her cheek and another across her forehead. We trudged past other groups still working to beat back their sections of the jungle. I couldn’t help feeling some vindication seeing everyone working.

“So,” Esi said, dragging my attention back to her, “you and Svîk, huh? You got his attention and seem to be holding it.”

I pulled up short at her words. “Nooo,” I dragged out my protest. “Why would you even say that? I still don’t really trust him, and I’m certainly not going to get romantically involved with someone I don’t trust. That would be stupider than—” I stopped just before insulting Lis and Rumi. “—a toad.”

Esi laughed, but it sounded forced.

Squinting, I tried to get a read on her because something was off. I’d only known her a few weeks, but we’d spent a lot of time together, enough that I could feel it, even if I didn’t know what it was.

Eventually Esi turned and put her hands on her hips. “What are you gawking at?” she asked. “Let’s go wash off the mud. I know how you feel about being clean.”

Everyone else in our group was headed toward the Cem or back to their homes.

“Yes,” I said, running to catch up. I threw my arm around her shoulders and, after several steps in tandem, asked, “Do you not like him because he’s a toad?”

She grunted. We left the perimeter road and stepped onto the path leading down to the pool just off the Cemik River. Esi held her tongue, keeping her strange peace as we waded into the water. I dove under and scrubbed my scalp, letting my hair float out around me, giving her space. I surfaced and swam around the inlet of calm water before turning toward shore. Esi stood on the rocks, waist deep, and I joined her. We swished our filthy tunics back and forth, and I scrubbed at a stubborn spot of dirt with my fingernails, waiting for her to speak.

As we headed home, she kicked at the mud, flinging chunks of the muck into the air in front of us.

“I don’t trust him,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. “He’s too…”

“Too confident? Too attractive? Too strong? Too… what?”

“All of it. He’s just too much.”

I nodded. “Plus he used to be Serîk for the kümdâr, which means you have to wonder about his judgment.”

Esi turned toward me with a jerk. “Yes.”

“I agree,” I said. “I don’t trust him either.”

She rolled her eyes. “But for you, it’s not just Svîk. You don’t trust anyone—not Rull, Svîk, Nebe, not even me. But that problem isn’t everyone else, Taja; it’s you.”

Her words thumped the air from my lungs, but when I opened my mouth to protest, the argument stuck. I blinked as the assurance I wanted to offer—that I trusted her—dissolved in the simple truth she’d declared.

“Not that it’s your fault,” she rushed to say. “You don’t even know who you are.

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