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portal.
    I’ll show you ,
     indeed. If anyone is showing anybody anything, it’s Kellan who is letting me
     know, loud and clear, that he’s the indifferent one. And that burns.
    “So, Chloe,” one of the
     Guard says to me. I turn to find a lanky Elf a few feet back. Other than Kellan
     and me, they’re all Elves. “Do you mind if I ask some questions about your
     craft?”
    I wrack my mind for his
     name. Caleb reluctantly throws out Earle Locust-tree, reminding me of the need
     to hold onto names, especially of those that I work with. “Sure.”
    Earle jogs ahead to hold
     back a skinny tree branch for me. Up close, I can see that it resembles
     something more akin to scrub or manzanita than the kinds of trees I’m used to.
     As I pass by Earle, he says, “This portal you’re to make today, how will you do
     it?”
    I shift the straps on my
     backpack; they’re biting into my shoulders. Why do snacks and water bottles
     have to weigh so much? And while I’m at it, why does the portal have to be so
     far away from any conveniences of civilization? Aren’t they more useful when
     they’re close to cities or something? I’m already beat and we’ve only been
     hiking for three hours. There are still a good three to go. “You mean, how do I
     create things in general?”
    He nods with a hint of a shy
     smile. It’s sort of goofy and charming at the same time, especially on this
     guy, who must be a good twenty years older and radiates some pretty serious
     amounts of sophistication. But then, it seems most Elves do. Astrid Lotus is a
     prime example of that. “It’s going to sound a bit nutty,” I tell him, “but it’s
     like I can ask atoms and molecules to group together.” He appears puzzled, so I
     add, “I can feel them, like they’re waiting for instructions. Sometimes they do
     what they need to do themselves, like they’re pre-programmed. Other times, I
     can make them do what I want.”
    He kicks back an overgrown
     bush, scraggly and rough in texture and appearance. “I guess I can see that.
     It’s a little like what I can do, too, only I control air molecules.”
    That’s right. He’s a
     Cyclone. Jonah pointed him out to me once, telling me that Earle Locust-tree
     was good, but he was no Raul Mesaverde. Still, it’s somewhat comforting to know
     that I have somebody around who can pretty much drive busybodies away by simply
     targeting a tornado at them.
    It must be a hundred degrees
     where we are when we finally stop to rest. I peel off my button down, despite
     the rolled up sleeves, grateful I had the foresight to wear a tank top since
     I’m sweating like a pig on a spit.
    “Do you have enough water?”
     Earle asks. He perches next to me on a petrified log, rooting through his
     backpack for bottles.
    I hold up my own drink and
     shake the little bit left. “Got three more. My fiancé went a little overboard
     this morning, insisting I bring so many.”
    “No, that’s good.” Earle
     smiles. His teeth are crooked, which makes it all the nicer. “It’s definitely
     better to have more than you need than not enough.” He takes a swig. “You’re
     engaged to Jonah Whitecomb, right?” After I nod, he’s the one to look over at
     Kellan, brow scrunching. It doesn’t take a mind reader to know he’s wondering
     why, if I’m engaged to Kellan’s twin brother, there hasn’t been a single word
     between us during the entire trip so far.
    And that’s really just a
     whole lot of salt in my still raw wound, which I cannot allow. Time to take the
     focus off of me. “What about you?” I motion to his hand, like the ring on his
     finger doesn’t already tell me. “Married?”
    Earle’s face falls. I’m
     about to apologize for words I had no idea were painful when he says quietly,
     “Was.” My lips go as round as my eyes, so he holds out a hand. “It’s okay. You
     didn’t know.” Tears build in his eyes, so he closes them, blowing out a hard
     breath.
    I