They rode for three days full of silence and empty hours. Evans was determined to carry on with the quest they were pursuing before they had been intercepted by the yellow cloaks; and so they followed.
At first, Valeria hardly knew what to make of Percy. He saw it constantly, a stirring disquiet in her every look and gesture, despite her efforts to hide it. They had not had a chance to speak in private, and the lack of it showed. She offered him tea with endless caution, as though it might kill him; and she spoke to him with the same excruciating caution, as though he might kill her. Each of her hesitations and glances inched him closer to a scream: it rung deafening in him every time she avoided his eyes and walked on, busying herself with a task that could very well wait.
The third night, they found an unused sawmill by a river. A hut by the sawmill was in an acceptable enough condition, and they decided to make camp there – to give the tent a rest, she said. Evans, aware of the mire of uneasy glances that Valeria and Percy had waded through those past three days, walked away from their campfire, taking Myrtle with him. He needed help with a loose button on his tunic that he couldn't quite sew on properly, he said. Percy had seen him sew it back on flawlessly just a few hours ago. He smiled as he watched Evans leave with Myrtle, trailing chatter behind them like breadcrumbs.
He turned to Valeria, who had gone rigid with her tea mug in her hands.
"Right. Whatever you want to ask me or tell me, we have about as long as it takes for Myrtle to realize that button is perfectly fine" he gave a tired chuckle.
"Percy, I really am sorry" she whispered, letting out a sigh that melted into the steam wisping from her tea.
His eyes widened in surprise.
"Sorry? For what?"
"For all I've felt since that day in the glade. They have none of them been pretty feelings."
"It wasn't a pretty thing that happened" he murmured.
"Some of it was" she smiled, and she looked at him at last, a bright spark aflame in her eyes. "But I felt too many things then that I thought were below me. When I saw Evans fall, and you by his side... I have to admit this. I thought you had been the one to do it. You didn't see me, because you had your back turned, but I was running at you with my sword. And you didn't hear me, I'm not sure why, but I was screaming bloody murder."
"Understandable" he said, feigning lightness. She didn't fall for it for a second.
"And then that light came... came from you, and I fell back. It terrified me. And I hated you for making me feel so fucking scared."
"Also understandable."
"If you don't shut up" she grumbled, hoisting the teabag threateningly from her mug, "I'm going to shove this in your mouth and make you eat it until you shit out afternoon tea, scones and all."
He grimaced, but only to hide his grin. Progress. She was coming back to him.
"When I recovered and went to you both, I saw Evans healed, and I realized what you'd actually done... The very first thing I thought was that I hated you."
"... a bit repetitive, and less understandable."
"Come now. Put yourself in my big, stinking shoes. Evans is my charge. I'll shred half the world to little ribbons, and pound the other half in little crumbs, before I let anything happen to him. But something did happen. And I couldn't have done anything to save him then. But you did."
"Jealousy? Truly?"
"One of the things that I had thought were below me."
"And... do you still hate me? Should I still be afraid of that teabag?"

YOU ARE READING
Unmaking Percy
FantasyTwenty-year-old Percy Freel grew up being told he is the chosen one, only to discover that he is, in fact, the chosen one's assistant. When he is summoned to accompany the true chosen one on his quests, Percy is determined to hate both Evans and his...