Page 17 of Too Hexed to Handle

Or buried, as the case may be.

‘This isn’t a discussion. You’re not going.’ He tries to grab hold of the lock, but I bump his hand away with my hip.

‘Yes, I am. This is my problem to solve, not yours.’

He looks me up and down. ‘I could move you out the way, you know.’

Months studying the precise size of his biceps tell me he absolutely could, but that doesn’t stop me standing on tiptoe and saying, ‘Try it.’

My nose is inches from his. My lips too. If only he knew the real danger lay in the creature stood before him, not whatever is waiting in Rerta. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t follow through on his threat to move me. His arms hang by his sides as emotions swirl through him, waves crashing over one another, sweet to spice to sharp and back again, never clear enough for me to grasp one completely.

‘I mean it, Astin,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t want you involved.’

‘You don’t get it.’ His fists clench. Whatever it is I don’t get, he doesn’t seem inclined to elaborate. We stare at one another in silence, both our chests heaving, his blue eyes like dark pools I could swim in if only the water wouldn’t scald me. ‘Please, let me do this.’

‘Why? What don’t I get?’

He huffs, crossing the room to sink on to my bed, because apparently he hasn’t invaded enough of my personal space today.

If I thought he looked out of place in my room, it’s nothing compared to the sight of him sat on pink bedding embroidered with flowers. Between the pillows lies my childhood teddy, and next to that – shit – is my underwear.

I edge closer to the bed. Maybe I can move both before he notices.

‘It started with my mother,’ he says.

I halt. What about his mother? Did she also have a bear? Did she also wear black underthings? Why is he talking about his mother right now? I’m frozen, hovering between carrying on with my underwear-removal mission and wanting to understand him.

‘What about her?’ I settle for something in between the two, and plop myself on the bed; a human shield between him and all the items I’d prefer he didn’t see. He’s so unsettled by my new-found proximity – scooting to the far end as though my skin contains an infectious disease – it gives me time to stuff the underwear beneath a pillow.

He studies my rug for a long while, as though he’ll find the answer among the threads of wool. I nudge the bear behind me while I wait.

‘She got sick when I was eighteen. My father wasn’t around, so I stayed home to take care of her and Olivia. I watched her get sicker and sicker, turning into a ghost before my eyes, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it. Four years later, the same thing happened to Olivia. I promised I’d keep her safe, and instead I held her in my arms as she withered into nothing. I was powerless to save her, and I hated it. I hate . . . not being in control.’ His eyes blaze as he finally meets my stare. ‘But saving you from yourself, that isn’t out of my control. I won’t let you go to those ruins. Not when we don’t know what’s waiting there.’

My hand hovers near his knee, but refuses to make contact. ‘I don’t need you to save me, Astin. I am not dying, and I am not your sister.’

His gaze flicks to the bottom of my towel. ‘I’m well aware.’

‘So you agree I’ll be perfectly safe.’

‘You – that’s not what I said.’

‘Besides, if you go, I’m going to follow,’ I say, realising what his retort will be the moment the words leave my mouth.

‘And if you go, I’m going to follow.’

Our eyes meet. Stalemate. There’s only one solution, and it cannot be a good idea. Going on a trip with someone who actively hates my kind is unlikely to end well. Then again, I’ve hidden what I am from Astin for the last two years; being in closer proximity for an extended period of time doesn’t mean I can’t continue to hide it.

And I can’t pretend I wouldn’t like the company. The idea of having him at my side makes the concept of leaving the inn marginally less terrifying.

We haven’t voiced our mutual agreement out loud, but he sounds resigned when he says, ‘Nobody travels once the festival starts; we can lock up for the next few days. At least it means we won’t be around if anyone else from the treasury arrives. Would your parents feed the animals? I know they hate visiting.’

This is not entirely true. They might dislike the howl of wolves at night, along with the history of how and why this building became a part of the family in the first place, but it’s me they’re really avoiding.

I nod. ‘I’ll write a letter, if you could keep an eye out for any passing travellers we can ask to deliver it.’

‘Fine,’ Astin says in a tone that suggests it’s anything but.

He’s wrong though. Hope rears its pesky head, because all I can think is that this might be good, even. If the cure is hidden somewhere requiring brute strength to access it, I’ll need him. A smile threatens to bloom. With him, I might have an actual chance. I’ll find a way to take a swig of the cure before handing it over to this king, or whatever he claims to be, we’ll get the money to save the inn, and I’ll return happy and healed and normal, while Astin will have fulfilled his need to save me, or whatever.