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It feels like they’ve been walking for hours. Neither of them dare to stay too close to the palace, lest the chaos of the fire spill over to neighboring towns. So they run until they’re too worn out to run, and then they walk.
Blue is too proud to admit that she’s struggling to keep up with Kenzo’s steady pace, so she hikes her skirts up to her knees and trudges on through the brambles. The moon is full and bright and directly above their heads. It must be past midnight by now. The path they’re taking isn’t a common one, both of them wary of encountering strangers on the road, and Blue is tired of having to weave in between trees and bushes. But Kenzo walks ahead of her and pushes the skeletal branches out of the way, clearing a route for her, and it makes something thrill inside her chest.
Then Blue’s silk slipper catches on an exposed root, and she stumbles. She manages to narrowly avoid falling by clutching onto a tree trunk, wincing when the rough bark digs into her hands. Cursing under her breath, she hurries to right herself and catch up, but it’s too late. Kenzo has noticed her sorry state.
He turns to look at her, and his eyes are far too soft, and Blue hates it. She’s always had an aversion to being pitied, and she especially doesn’t want to be pitied by Kenzo, to whom she already owes her life. “What are you looking at?” she snaps.
Kenzo huffs a small laugh. “No need to get defensive,” he says. “It’s late, and I’m getting tired. How about we rest for the night at the next village we see?”
Blue sniffs. “I guess, if we really must.” In reality, she’s sure, Kenzo could keep going for several miles. She’s the one slowing them down, not him, and she’s stupidly thankful that he doesn’t point that out.
Kenzo turns away from her, picking up the pace again, but Blue swears she sees the hint of a smile playing on his lips. She feels too transparent, like he can see right through her. She’s not used to anyone studying her so closely — she’s not used to anyone caring enough about her to see her at all.
Blue hunches her shoulders and presses forward. There are blisters forming on her soles, unaccustomed as she is to walking such long distances, and sharp blades of grass cut against her ankles. She ignores all of it, keeps her eyes trained on Kenzo’s broad back and short white hair.
Minutes pass, and the forest opens into a grassy plain. Kenzo stops in his tracks and points at something in the distance. Blue follows his finger with her gaze, and she spots a faint puff of smoke wisping into the air.
“A town,” she says.
“A town,” Kenzo confirms. He smiles at her, sharp and toothy, and she’s relieved enough to smile back.
“Are you still good to walk?” Kenzo asks. “It’s not too far now. I could carry you if you wanted.”
Blue stares at him for a long moment, and then it sharpens into a glare. “No thanks,” she says, crossing her arms and making her way toward the town without him. “I’m not helpless.”
“I never said you were,” Kenzo says, sounding amused.
A patch of heat blooms on the back of Blue’s neck, against her will, and she’s glad that it’s too dark for Kenzo to notice.
The town is a small one, situated at the base of a mountain. It’s less of a town, really, and more of a handful of worn-down buildings that happen to share geographical location. Funny, Blue thinks — just a day ago, she would have turned up her nose at a place like this, and now she couldn’t be happier to see it.
But at least there’s an inn: a cramped, two-story wood building with a rickety door. Blue stops just in front of the door, and Kenzo narrowly avoids running into her. “Wait, here,” she says. She reaches into her skirts and takes out a pouch of gold coins, counting a few of them out and handing them to Kenzo. If she’d been smarter, she would have packed more of her belongings before they made their escape, but this much should be enough to last them a few weeks.
Kenzo’s hand closes around hers, warm and firm. “Thank you,” he says. Blue nods and pulls out of his grip.
The interior of the inn is cozy and well-lit, even if there are strange, sticky puddles on the floorboards and cobwebs in some of the corners. The bored-looking girl at the front desk perks up when she sees them. She eyes them curiously, and Blue realizes what a strange sight they must make: a Paper girl and a Steel caste, drooping with exhaustion and walking side by side. “Welcome,” she says. “Can I interest you in a room for the night?”
“Two rooms, please,” Kenzo says, stepping up to the counter. He drops a stack of coins on its surface.
“Sorry, no can do,” the girl says, though she’s already scooping the coins off the counter and tucking them away in her apron. “We only have one room available tonight.”
Blue scowls at her. “Really? I can’t imagine that there are people lining up to stay in a dump like this.”
Kenzo shoots her a warning glance, but the girl just shrugs. “Take it or leave it, miss.”
“We’ll take it,” Kenzo says, cutting Blue off before she can say something that will make things worse for them. The girl beams at him, which makes Blue’s skin prickle, and hands him a rusty key.
“One of these days,” Kenzo tells her as they head upstairs, “you’re going to have to get that sharp tongue of yours under control.”
Blue scoffs. “Or maybe everyone else is going to have to start living up to my standards.”
Kenzo laughs, and it’s a pleasant sound. He leads Blue to the last of three rooms on the second floor, expertly unlocking it.
Once they’re in the room, though, a problem makes itself apparent. The only furniture in sight is a low desk, a candle, and rather narrow-looking bed. One bed.
“Um,” Blue says.
“You take it,” Kenzo volunteers. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Blue argues, because she’s a contrarian like that. “I’m sick of you thinking I need special treatment.”
Kenzo rolls his eyes at her. “I’m a soldier. We’re basically trained to fall asleep anywhere. Come on, your back is going to thank you in the morning.”
“I’m not sleeping on the bed if you aren’t,” Blue says.
“What — ” Kenzo splutters. “We can’t — I mean — that wouldn’t be very proper.”
“Propriety went out the window when the royal court exploded and you ran off with a Paper girl,” Blue retorts. “And it’s for the best, anyway. Both of us need to be well-rested if we want to be able to keep walking tomorrow morning.”
They haven’t figured out where they’re going yet, of course, but that’s a problem for later. Kenzo opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn’t seem to have a good counterargument, and Blue suppresses a smile at her victory.
“Fine,” Kenzo says. “Let’s go, then.”
He climbs into bed, squeezing his bulky frame onto one half of it, and lifts the covers on the other side, gesturing for Blue to join him. She does, taking care to leave as much room as she can between them. Then she blows out the candle, and the room is plunged into darkness.
Blue tosses and turns. The bed is comfortable enough, the blankets soft, but she’s so hyperaware of Kenzo’s weight and heat beside her that she’s incapable of falling asleep. It doesn’t help that Kenzo is clearly ill at ease. His side of the bed is too small to accommodate him, while Blue is slight enough that she has plenty of space. The bedsprings creak under Kenzo as he shifts around it, and the sound grates on Blue’s nerves.
“Enough,” she says after a moment. “You can… move a little closer.”
Kenzo stiffens. “Are you sure?” he asks.
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered,” Blue says. “Just don’t touch me.”
“Of course,” Kenzo says.
Tentatively, he rolls over, taking up more of the space next to her. Blue finds herself holding her breath. He’s so close that she can see the gray of his eyes, even in the near pitch-black. He’s so close that she would only have to reach out a scant few centimeters to touch him.
“Night, Blue,” he whispers. His eyes rove carefully over Blue’s face, and she wonders what he sees written all over it.
“Good night, Kenzo,” Blue whispers back.
Kenzo smiles at her, one of his sharp canines glinting under the faint moonlight, and then he closes his eyes. It’s not long before his breathing evens out, and Blue is left alone in consciousness.
She takes the time to study him: the angular set of his face, the aquiline nose, the dark swathe of his eyelashes. He’s handsome, she realizes, in a disheveled way. He’s not the cold arrogance of the Demon King, nor the soft roundness of the spoiled noblemen her parents used to pick to court her.
This is dangerous, Blue thinks.
Yet as her eyes slip shut, she lets herself nestle closer to him. The even lull of his breathing rolls over her and eases her into peaceful sleep.