“I know you would likely prefer to do this with Cassian,” she suggested, trying to make conversation. She didn’t know all of the details regarding why Cassian couldn’t. One part some other task the High Lord had given him, another part not wanting to be away from Nesta for so long. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be away from Nesta or Emerie either, but that had been the point. Azriel had seemed content to make this venture solo until Gwyn volunteered her company. Exercising her comfort with her training was significantly less daunting with someone equally capable by her side. She wasn’t sure what drove him to say yes, but his faith in her was validating. Not just his faith, but his trust—maybe not in any personal way, if her past prying told her anything, but his trust that she knew what she was doing, that she had his back. That she wouldn’t drag him down. Maybe it was pity—him understanding what it was like to have something to prove. Whatever the case, she was grateful. But now they were here, not just out of the Library, but outside of Prythian, tucked somewhere deep in a faerie woodland of the main continent. She couldn't remember what this part was called, and didn't want to comb through the book she'd packed to check. Wanting this and doing this were separate acts, but perhaps to preserve her pride alone, she wouldn't back out now. But that didn’t stop her from feeling nauseous as she thought about it too hard.
She was on her feet, having traded the dense outer layer of her leathers for a lighter sweater over her black undershirt. As she neatly tucked the garment into her bag, her eyes snagged on the distant depth of the woods, her attention lured into the deepest dark like she was gazing through a fisheye. He’d said they were less than a day from the nearest city; just one night here. She couldn’t necessarily see anything, but the unknown beyond was what she hated. She wasn’t afraid of the dark so much as unsettled by the things she couldn’t know. That was what stuck her nose between the covers of her books, even before her time at the Library. If she could know everything, she’d have nothing to fear. Like flipping a switch, Gwyn snapped her attention back to their small fire and cleared her throat. Pulling her water from her bag, she lowered herself to the ground and kept her tone light, irreverent. “If it helps, he and I do have a similar humor—plus, I don’t care what he says, I’m way cuter.”
