Jason tightened the strap on his pack and surveyed the clearing. The sun was fully up now, burning away the last traces of morning mist. Mae was checking her supplies, her tail swishing lazily. The ant king stood at the edge of the trees, his black and gold eyes fixed on the path ahead.
Ylva was already packed, her claws retracted, her expression neutral.
Jason felt self-conscious.
He had confessed to her last night. Told her he loved her. And she had said it back. But now, in the harsh light of day, he had no idea how to act. Was he supposed to hold her hand? Steal kisses? Act like nothing had changed?
Ylva solved the problem by acting like nothing had happened.
She walked past him, her shoulder brushing his, and crouched down to tighten her boot. But Jason caught it—a quick glance. Her green eyes flicked toward him, lingered for half a second, and then darted away.
And she was smiling, not the usual stern facial expression.
