Page 72 of Aryn

“So, what you’re saying is I won’t willingly lay down my life after you’re done with me?”

He side-eyes me with a wicked grin. “Well, I never said that.”

“Aryn!” I say with a booming laugh. Ronan and Taryn both shush me as Aryn fights back his own laughter, and everyone turns around to stare at us curiously. I cover my face with a gloved hand, trying to muffle myself.

“Dear gods, I did not think you had it in you to be a pervert,” I mutter when everyone has faced forward again.

“I’m quite old, Cato. Don’t assume me to be innocent.”

“I… don’t,” I say, suddenly struggling for words. By human standards, Aryn looks to be close to my age—in his mid-thirties—so it’s easy to forget how old he really is. Now I’m picturing everything he might’ve done in his life, and all that experience that comes with time. I’m fighting a very confused boner that’s suddenly very jealous of everyone who’s ever touched him.

I clear my throat, curiosity getting the best of me. “You said your… wife? Was a female?”

“My shaelin,” he corrects softly. “And yes, she was. But the gender of my partner doesn’t matter, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You don’t have a preference?” I push, then shake my head and gesture at myself. “Like, I get that. Pan pride all the way, baby.”

“Pan?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Pansexual… like you, I think, at least? Gender and labels don’t matter, you’re interested in the person and not the parts?”

He nods slowly. “That sounds accurate, yes.”

“Right,” I say with a huff, glancing away. “So, I’m pan, but I tend to be with guys more often, and…” I trail off, glaring at the way he’s rolling his lips between his teeth to keep from grinning. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” I interrupt.

Lillith glances over her shoulder. “Maybe because you basically just asked him if he likes dick while very enthusiastically assuring him you do.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” I argue, but she only continues to grin. “It wasn’t!”

“Well, if the murder monsters find us now, they’ll be educated in Cato’s sexual preferences,” Cameron drawls, causing Lillith’s shoulders to bounce in another laugh.

I scoff and flip Cameron off. “I’m fucking done with all of you.”

Aryn looks like he wants to say more, but everyone is paying too much attention to us now. We keep walking, the mood lighter despite the grim scene we passed earlier. The river stays close on our left, its half-frozen surface reflecting the dying light. Eventually, the path curves and opens into a valley.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, slowing to a stop.

Tall, graceful trees line the river’s edge, their branches impossibly thin and cascading down in long, flowing curtains that brush the snow. They’re a soft, pale yellow that’s beautiful against the darkening sky, swaying gently despite the lack of breeze.

Ronan stops ahead of us, staring at the trees with an expression I’ve rarely seen on him. “Dirdira trees,” he says softly. “I haven’t seen one since I was a child. They grew along the river in our village.”

“These are the ones that glow, right?” Cameron asks.

“They are,” Ronan agrees, jogging ahead to get closer.

Lillith’s eyes are wide. “They’re beautiful.”

Ronan nods. “The microorganisms in the leaves make them shimmer. Touching them would set off little bursts of light.” He lets out a quiet laugh. “We used to have festivals under the biggest ones. People would dance for hours while the trees lit up around them.”

Ronan runs his hands over a few of the branches. They light up, though the glow is faint. He smiles, but there’s an unmistakable sadness in it. “When Sovran told us about the weather here, I wondered if they’d survived.”

Cameron looks awed as he runs his fingers along the curtain of branches. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve seen since we got here.”

“I wish they still glowed as bright as they used to,” Ronan says with a sigh, and another pang of something hits me in the chest as Cameron takes his hand. My head’s been a mess since this morning, and it takes all my willpower not to look at Aryn beside me.