We had been riding for what felt like days, the difference between day and night melding together. The first night out in the mountains—The Ashthornes as Ronan referred to them, had been the start of my misery. He let me sleep for only a few hours before packing us up and rousing me again.

"Come."

It was amazing how much I could come to hate just one word.

My thighs were unbearably sore from an endless day riding atop Nea. Even when we stopped to 'rest,' I could barely stand. I collapsed on the rocky ground of the alcove or cave Ronan had found for us, and shivered against an icy chill that only grew worse and worse over the days. Nea wound us through mountain valleys and narrow rocky paths that moved higher, nearing the cloudy grey sky.

"You happen to have a parka or something in your bag?" I asked Ronan. 

Gazing at me wordlessly, Ronan didn't reply. Though his brows did knit together, a crease forming between them. I figured he didn't even know what a parka was.

Great.

Eventually, a few flakes of snow started to fall. Ronan, of course, was unbothered. We continued in silence, Ronan only relenting here and there to command me to do something—eat, sleep, and sometimes rest. He didn't use my name or force me to do anything, but I bristled every time he ordered me around.

What unnerved me the most was that Ronan appeared to be apprehensive. Always moving us along, and never staying in one place too long. The sky would just start to lighten whenever he allowed us to stop. He was acting cautious, but I couldn't figure out why.

Day after day, I gazed out at the rocky mountains. Occasionally I would see a bird or hear a critter skittering into the rocks as we passed. But I never saw anything more. The mountains were different than the forest had been; less alive. There was a solemn tranquility that followed us through them, like ghosts whispering in the wind.

I couldn't ignore my unease as it slithered up my spine. I wanted to get out of there as much as Ronan did—if not more.

One morning as we made camp, Ronan dismounted Nea and pulled me down to settle me on my feet—since I couldn't on my own. But as he did so, I had to grip his arms tightly to hold myself up. Pain shot through every one of my muscles, and my lips twisted into a grimace. My head swarmed, and the exhaustion that had been growing over the last several days hit me all at once.

Ronan paused, his hand tightening on my arm. "You look ill. You seemed well enough before." He frowned, tilting his head slightly as he regarded me. Without letting me go, Ronan led me to a corner and helped me settle down to the ground. I grit my teeth, yet let him. Every one of my limbs protested as I moved, my legs buckling under me. Without him there to hold me up, I wasn't sure I could stand on my own.

"I'm fine," I said hoarsely. I lowered my head into my hands and tried to reel in my scattered thoughts. It was like specific connections weren't being made in my brain. My skin felt hot, and the cool air sent my teeth clattering as it whistled past us.

Ronan's hand blazed through my clothes from where it rested on my shoulder. The last several hours had been excruciating, though I had kept it to myself. My skin was still damp with a layer of perspiration from riding with Ronan behind me all day. But now that I no longer had that warmth, I regretted ever thinking of refusing it.

Ronan continued to hover over me. He looked me up and down, his brows creasing. I was pretty sure I looked the opposite of fine.

"Okay. I'm tired," I corrected, though I knew I was likely more than that. "I just need some rest. I'll be fine."

And a fire, I added internally. But I knew it was pointless to ask him again. He had refused to light one thus far, and I had a feeling he had a good reason for that. Still, the cold was just too much. As I sat there, my eyelids started to drift closed and I struggled to keep them open.

I slumped against the wall, and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to contort my body into a small ball. Why was it so cold?

"No..." Ronan trailed off as he inspected me closely. He appeared both concerned yet lost, his body shifting side to side, his eyes darting around the cave as if he might find the answer to my problems there. It might have been comical had I not felt like crap.

"Your cheeks are pink. And you were damp with perspiration earlier, though based on your earlier complaints you find it very cold..."

He leaned in closer, but I was too tired to even flinch back. I only closed my eyes as his blood-colored gaze inspected my face.

"I do believe this is not normal."

Faeries.

"I am probably coming down with a fever or hypothermia. I have no idea." His ignorance was truly astounding. "It's snowing, and I am only in a tunic and trousers. We are outside day in and day out, and you only let me sleep for a few hours. I have hardly eaten anything except a few pieces of bread and cheese here and there."

When I opened my eyes, his frown had deepened. "Three hours is not long enough?"

I wanted to yell that no, it wasn't, but another shiver ran through me, making me bite back my words. I could hear my teeth chattering, and my toes had gone numb. Though I had acted sure of myself, I wasn't sure what was happening either. I hadn't ever been sick like this before. The closest thing I had ever experienced was a rather nasty rash from a pair of cheap earrings.

"A fever..." he considered, finally leaning away from me to perch back on his heels. "I do recall those not being very good for humans."

To give him credit, he did appear at least a little troubled. His mouth quirked to the side and he ran a hand through his hair, looking me over again like I might combust right then and there.

"No, they aren't." I clenched my jaw and felt my temples throb. "But there is little we can do now unless you have a bottle of NyQuil in your bag—and a heavier blanket."

Ronan lips pursed and his eyebrows pressed together even tighter. I knew my NyQuil reference went right over his head. I took a small piece of satisfaction in him finally being out of the loop after he had left me lost and confused for days. This was the most he had talked to me since I had met him.

"Well..." He stood, moving away from me. "Will it go away on its own?"

I didn't know the answer. I just huddled down and rolled onto my side away from him. Sleep was pulling at me, even as my body was shaking and convulsing. One minute I felt burning hot, and the next I felt icy cold.

Maybe I was going to die in Faerie from something as simple as the flu. It was almost laughable.

Eventually, I fell asleep, my dreams filled with monsters made of shadows that had sharp teeth and blood-red eyes. Only the eyes might have been Ronan's, staring down at me in the dark cave.

"I'm sorry." I thought I heard him say, somewhere between dreams and sleep.

But I'd likely imagined that too.