Elle roused, groggily blinking. Heat weighed heavily on her eyelids, pressing down like a thick, humid blanket. The sky arched above in a dusty orange haze, and her body swayed with each step of an unseen person. At first, the princess wondered if she was caught in some delirious dream; the slow, methodical rocking lulled her until a warm hand shifted at her thigh.

  Her senses snapped awake. Her cheeks flared with shock and embarrassment. She realized she was slung across someone’s back, arms draped limply over their shoulders. Sticky sweat clung to her face, and her hair was still tangled, falling in messy strands. Her mouth parched, her stomach twisting with faint hunger pangs.

  Who was carrying Elle?

  Her gaze lifted with effort, craning her neck over the figure’s shoulder. She first noticed the short, pointed ears framed by dark, ink-black hair first. He was strong, the lean muscles across his back shifting fluidly with each stride. His grip was firm and oddly respectful, a broad palm bracing the back of her thigh, another braced against her calf. For a fleeting second, warmth rippled through her, both from the oppressive heat and from the intimate press of his hands. Though he wasn’t groping her, it was still too close for comfort, too personal for a princess accustomed to bowing servants and polite distances. She wasn’t used to anyone touching her so casually without her explicit permission, no less. Even bodyguards back in Elytheris maintained courtly boundaries, always deferring to her rank.

  She blinked, breath catching.

  Ashra. Kai.

  The man who’d threatened her. A surge of indignation stoked her weariness. Yet now, pinned by exhaustion, Elle had no choice but to accept this humiliating predicament.

  I hate this, she thought with a spike of bitterness.

  A small, involuntary groan escaped her lips. Sensing her stirring, Ashra slowed. He glanced back, noting her half-lidded eyes and puffed cheeks. She tried to speak, but her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. The warm, dank air did nothing to soothe her scratchy throat. At last, she mustered a rasp.

  “Put…me down,” Elle mumbled, cheeks burning hot. Her voice sounded pathetic, too weak to convey the anger she felt. She cleared her throat, determined to sound more forceful. “I’m…not…invalid.”

  He hesitated. The rocking lull ceased as he halted, adjusting his knees and stance just the slightest so she could slide off. The moment her feet touched the sun-scorched ground, her knees buckled, a dark wave of dizziness nearly forcing her back into his arms. Panic and pride flared together, and she forced herself upright. The woman wouldn’t let him catch her again, wouldn’t let him see just how spent she was.

  His hand hovered near her elbow, ready to steady her, but she slapped it away, heat flooding her face anew. Why was she—

  Elle bit her lip, refusing to let the question form, tasting a coppery trickle of blood pooling in her mouth. Everything about this made her skin crawl: his closeness, his effortless strength, the memory of those hands anchoring her with an intimacy no one but the closest family or betrothed should ever attempt. They hardly known each other, but he was acting too familiar for her liking.

  “I’m not a child,” the princess snapped. “Don’t…touch me without my permission.”

  A trace of something—maybe sympathy—flickered in his jade-green eyes. “You fainted,” Ashra said simply, letting his arm fall to his side. His voice was steady, not cold, yet lacking any soft warmth. “Leaving you there in the field wasn’t an option.”

  She swallowed a lump in her throat. The dryness scraped her esophagus. He’s right, in a way, she thought grudgingly. But still. Tiredness washed over her anew, making her vision blur briefly. Her stomach rumbled. She clenched her fists, determined not to show further weakness in front of him.

  He stepped back, giving her space, though she could feel his gaze lingering, watching to see if she might collapse again, or maybe he was just quietly laughing to himself the entire time. There was this urge to snap at him again, to rail about how he was the cause of her predicament in the first place. But reason reminded Elle she needed water and food and, in truth, had no idea where she were. Survival overshadowed her desire to lash out. She inhaled slowly, ignoring the sticky heat that plastered her robe to her body.

  “Fine,” Elle said at last, voice rough. “Thank…you.” The words emerged ungraciously, each syllable tasting of resentment and regret. She wanted to say more. To remind him he was a criminal, that she didn’t trust him. That Elle hated the way her body still tingled where he’d held her because although his intentions were good, the felon had pushed past acceptable social norms. Instead, the princess folded her arms over her chest, letting the silence speak. “Don’t mistake my acceptance of your help for trust,” she forced out, eyeing him with simmering wariness.

  A flicker of a small smile touched his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Duly noted, Princess,” he replied, using her title with a cool politeness that made her jaw tighten. She hated how his voice wrapped around that word, reminding her of what she’d lost, the royalty she couldn’t exercise here in this unknown place.

  He jerked his chin toward the rolling plains. “We’ve got a distance to cover before nightfall. Then, maybe we can find a good source of water. I'd rather not waste my energy on conjuring up drinking water.” His tone held no apology, no guilt. Only a subdued practicality.

  Elle forced a nod, swallowing the bitter tang of indignation, taking an unsteady step. The ground blurred for an instant, but she pressed on, clinging to her battered dignity. The orange sky stretched over them, merciless in its heat. She stole a sideways look at him. His posture was composed, almost casual despite the dire circumstances. He didn’t attempt to offer his arm again. Her mind churned in gratitude that he hadn’t left her behind, hatred for his betrayal, and an odd disquiet that came from being in such close proximity to an enemy who seemed more complicated than she wanted to admit.

  Focus on surviving, Elle admonished herself. That was the single priority.

  Sunset’s orange hues cast elongated shadows across a dusty, endless plain. Dry air rolled across the ground in slow, wavering currents, occasionally tossing up small vortexes of grit that caught in Elle’s throat. Her legs were made out of lead, each step heavier than the last. Sweat trickled down her temples in lazy rivulets. She clenched her jaw, ignoring the rasp in her lungs.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  All around them, the field bore traces of the giant avian prints. They were ghostly indentations that signaled where a bizarre, bird-legged ship had once walked. Small creatures darted back and forth, whisking into holes or behind rocks. Once, a fat rodent skittered practically under her foot before vanishing down a burrow. The reminder of the walking ship sent a prick of unease up her spine, but she pushed it aside, more fixated on the hunger twisting her stomach into knots as her stomach growled and rumbled.

  Ashra came to a sudden halt, turning to face her. A faint breeze ruffled his dark hair, the short points of his ears visible against the fiery backdrop of the sky. He lifted a small, neatly wrapped bundle from his satchel, revealing thin slivers of dried fish that glinted with a faint, oily sheen. Though not entirely pleasant, the pungent smell made Elle’s mouth water. She swallowed, her throat painfully dry.

  “You’re hungry,” Ashra said, extending the wrapped fish jerky toward her with one calloused hand. “You should eat. You haven’t eaten.”

  A flash of suspicion surged through Elle. Her mouth turned downward, scowling at his offer, ignoring how her gut cramped in response to the mere scent of food. “Why would I eat your food?” she snapped, voice scraping with dryness. “For all I know, it’s poisoned.”

  The line of his jaw tightened. A flicker of irritation danced in his eyes, but the criminal reined it in, inhaling slowly. Without a word, he raised a piece to his lips, bit off a chunk, and swallowed. “It’s not poison,” he said at last, taking out another wrapped piece and holding it out again.

  The princess eyed him, resentment and hunger warring inside her. Then, in a sudden flare of anger, she slapped the offering aside. The leaf bundle tumbled to the ground, scattering flakes of dried fish.

  “Why don’t you understand?” Elle burst out, voice shaking. “I said I don’t want it! Do you think you know me better than I do? I don’t need your dirty, filthy, worthless offerings!”

  Ashra’s face went still, eyes turning cold as a desert night. A tense silence stretched between them, heavier than the stifling heat. At length, he crouched, brushing dust from the package’s leaf. “Suit yourself,” he said in a clipped tone. “Starve.” Straightening, he spun on his heel and strode off, boots kicking up small puffs of reddish dirt.

  Elle’s heart jolted in her chest. Part of her wanted to bark out a biting comeback, but the dryness in her mouth stalled the words. Her green eyes watched him take several brisk steps, his pace accelerating. The notion that she had offended him, pushed him away, needled her pride. So be it, she told herself, even as her stomach grumbled in resentment. She was too furious, too stubborn, to call him back.

  He pressed on across the barren expanse, each stride lengthening the distance between them. Clenching her fists, she forced her weary legs to follow. Hunger rippled through her gut. She almost regretted knocking the fish from his hand. Almost. But any apology stuck in her throat.

  A band of dust hung in the air behind him, warm and choking as Elle hurried to keep up. Her lungs burned with each breath, mind circling on the single thought that she would not collapse again. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her faint a second time. Shoulders set, she kept pace as best she could, the sky’s flaming glow dimming by the second.

  The hush between them was intense. No further barbs were exchanged. Only the soft scuff of her boots, his footsteps resounding in firmer, purposeful strides. Above, the sun dipped toward the horizon, and a hint of cooler evening breeze teased the stale air, offering scant relief.

  Far ahead, Ashra’s figure loomed. His posture remained rigid like a curtain of anger or disappointment had fallen. Elle couldn’t decide if the knot in her chest was from hunger, fatigue, or the flicker of guilt that pricked at her.

  He’s the enemy, the princess reminded herself fiercely, ignoring the dryness of her mouth and the heaviness in her heart. She swallowed the bitter taste of pride that lingered, leaving only with the quiet desperation to survive.

  Elle trudged after Ashra, each step more painful than the last, as though iron shackles weighted her wrists and ankles. He kept up a brisk pace, never looking over his shoulder to check if she was following. Determined not to show weakness, she pushed on, her breath hitching in her throat every time a wave of exhaustion slammed into her. By the time the two reached the base of a broad hill with only scattered trees for cover, night had spread its dark velvet across the sky.

  Hungry and unwilling to approach Ashra again, Elle snatched up what fruits, berries, or nuts she could find among the sparse undergrowth. It wasn’t much, nor particularly appetizing, but her stomach demanded something, anything, to stave off the gnawing emptiness. The faraway crash of ocean waves faded to a faint murmur now, and the air smelled of dry grass rather than brine.

  Eventually, they came upon a gently flowing stream. The moonlight caught on its surface in shimmering flecks, and despite her weariness, there was a spark of relief at the promise of fresh water. Without warning, she announced, “I’m going to bathe. Keep guard, felon.” She spat the last word as though it tasted foul on her tongue.

  Ashra’s shoulder twitched minutely, but if he had a reply, he kept it to himself. She didn’t bother to glance his way. Too exhausted to care about his reaction, she stumbled downstream, ensuring she was out of his line of sight. Her new leather shoes came off first, followed by the rest of her dusty garments until she stood naked beneath the open sky. Moonlit shadows caressed her bare skin, the star-flecked night providing a meager sense of privacy.

  The water was cold when she dipped a toe in. A light shiver ran down her spine, but the promise of washing away sweat and grime was too tempting to resist. She waded in, gasping quietly as the chill embraced her. Sinking lower, she let the stream swirl around her torso. She began scrubbing her pants and tunic in the shallows with clumsy motions, rinsing out dust and caked sweat.

  I must reek by now, Elle thought, pressing the wet cloth to her nose to confirm. Sure enough, a pungent odor clung to the fabric.

  “I’d give anything for a warm bath right now,” Elle muttered under her breath, wringing out her clothes in the moonlight.

  “Really?” came a soft, crooning voice behind her. “What are you willing to give?”

  Her blood froze. The unexpectedness of a stranger’s voice, so near set her heart hammering against her ribcage. She spun around, half-submerged in the flowing water, droplets splashing from her hair. The night air was suddenly colder, and a prickle of alarm tugged at her senses. She didn’t see any silhouette or figure on the bank. Only the dark outline of rocks and sparse foliage.

  Keeping hold of her soaked clothes and undergarments, Elle’s mind raced. That wasn’t Ashra’s voice, she realized. It was too light, too mocking with a strangely intimate purr. Her pulse jumped. She forced her voice to remain steady. “Who’s there?”

  No immediate response followed. The hush of the stream played back to her, rippling quietly between smooth stones. The hush lingered a moment too long, setting Elle nerves on edge. Maybe the voice belonged to some new threat, she thought, cursing her naked vulnerability. She pressed her free arm across her chest, scanning the tree line with wide eyes. A few feet away lay the bank where she’d dropped her meager possessions of shoes and fruits.

  “Show yourself,” the princess said more firmly, heart drumming. “I’m not helpless.” Her ears strained for any hint of movement. Soft footsteps, the crack of a twig. But the silence pressed on, unbroken by a single rustle of leaves.

  Biting her lip, she began backing toward the shallow edge of the stream, searching for any glimpse of Ashra or the unknown speaker. Better to get out of the water, she reasoned. If there was a threat lurking, being half-submerged left her at an even greater disadvantage. Her muscles ached, and her breath quivered as she tried to appear composed.

  Another shift of the stream, a swirl in the corner of her vision. Was that just the current or something else? Elle clutched her wet clothes protectively against her chest, thoroughly unsettled by the voice’s near-whisper. Warm bath indeed, she thought bitterly, panic spiking her adrenaline. She steeled herself, gaze flitting across moonlit rocks and long grass. The memory of that crooning tone lingered, prompting a jolt of fear.

  “Who’s there?” Elle called again, more harshly. Only the faint gurgle of water replied, echoing an eerie hush beneath the stars. The distant silhouette of Ashra was nowhere to be seen, and in that moment, Elle truly felt alone.

  Exposed, naked, and unarmed in a foreign land.