I'm about to burst from flip-flopping about saying anything, when I finally decide that the New-Improved-Naia needs to go for it. "Atreyu, I'm sorry." I start. "I've been kind of a jerk since arriving. If I stopped to ask why you do what you do instead of judging you or if I hadn't been so hell bent on going home . . ." I drift off and then shake my head. "I don't know what I'm saying or thinking. I should know better because I live that every day. I'm sorry I judged you when I should've listened and given you a chance. I should've tried hard to use magic and help you."
"You apologize too much," he replies. "I have lived with this knowledge since I was a babe. My master-at-arms was the only one who knew the truth. I never intended to tell anyone before I met you."
"Even your other battle-witches or betrothed?"
"No one."
So I am special. A shot of hopeful, ecstatic energy lifts some of my exhaustion.
"I am only grateful my man parts did not fall off when we kissed," he adds.
"You had to go there!" I pull my hand free of his and cross my arms.
"'Tis a relief for a man."
My face feels hot. "I swear men everywhere are the same!"
He chuckles. "We will have time to discuss whether you become my queen or my mistress when the final battle is over."
I'm not sure I like the sound of that. Like I'm not going home. Does he want me to stay? Do I want to stay?
Any confidence I had about being surer of myself fizzles. I'm feeling anxious again, a warm flutter of desire mixed with a whole lot of fear.
"You'll be sending me home after this, right?" I ask.
The corner of his lips lifts. He doesn't answer.
We don't talk anymore, not for another couple of hours. I'm dragging soon enough, the result of not eating in who knows how long and recovering from death, I suppose. In truth, I'm kinda glad it's quiet. He and his world are no longer fictional to me. They've become very real, and I'm not sure what to make of him calling me beautiful or the way my lower belly ignites into a furnace whenever he regards me a tad too long. Every time we talk, I'm a little more confused about what I want.
Night begins to creep across the land. We're still a great distance from the hold. My well-fitted boots have rubbed blisters into my heels and the outside of one pinky toe. Darkness brings the cold ocean wind and I'm soon shaking and miserable.