I was growing restless. I felt like we had been driving forever, sun already setting behind the mountains in the distance. I hadn't envisioned my task requiring so much time in a vehicle. The lack of scenery and Nathaniel's dislike of conversation did nothing to help my rising boredom.

       "How far did she go?" I groaned. Something told me that Nathaniel wouldn't be willing to stop for a quick stretch. I did my best to stretch my legs in the crammed space that I had to work with.

       "If she did go to her family's cabin, we still have a long way before passing Wypark."

      "What is your definition of long?"

      "Wypark is still about 16 hours away."

      He spoke it so casually, but my eyes bulged. "What?!" I demanded.

      "16 hours," he repeated.

      "I heard you the first time. When were you planning on telling me?"

      "When you asked," he sighed. "I was expecting an are we there yet? Two hours ago."

      I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you often have to drive this long?"

      "Sometimes," he admitted. "But not usually quite as long."

      Perhaps, ten hours instead of twenty.

       "Shouldn't you have an emergency Roadtrip kit, then? You know, be prepared."

      "Like what?"

      "I don't know... Games? Snacks? Pillows? Anything to make the drive less insufferable."

      "We have the radio."

      I grunted. We were just supposed to listen to music for an entire day? I had been flipping through stations all evening, some songs already having been played three times. "Do you want to play a game?"

      "No," he answered immediately. "That's one of the reasons I didn't bring up."

       I huffed. No surprise there. The broadcaster talking about the weather was more interesting to Nathaniel than my company.

       I searched the truck for something to do and ended up picking up the Gladstone's busola. Nathaniel had placed it on the dash to ensure we were staying on track. I flipped the blade in my hand, mesmerized as the orange tip burned and returned to normal color as I spun it in different directions. To think Ailbert had been casually walking around with a magical dagger in his coat pocket.

        "Where does Aadya keep the Burkhards?" I asked Nathaniel. It had never occurred to me to wonder where Aadya kept their stone and busola. I could have been sleeping meters away from it for all I knew. "On second thought... you're probably not allowed to tell."

       He looked at me briefly before returning his gaze to the road. "We do trust you," he said plainly. "While it's not recommended, Aadya keeps the stone on her, and once I was old enough, she handed me the busola."

        "Why is it not recommended?" I mean, what better way to keep a close eye on it?

       "The stones tend to attract more duhovi when they're on the move."

       "So, she's more at risk of being attacked by holding onto it?"

       Nathaniel nodded. "We don't have much other choice with our lacking numbers. Nobody would be home to potentially protect it and as the missing Gladstone stone proved we can't trust everyone in the Legion."

       By everyone he mostly meant Ubel. And if they did lack trust in other members, I was positive it somehow also came back to Ubel.

       "And so, you have the Burkhard compass on you?" I eyed him from head to toe, wondering where he was hiding it. He wasn't wearing a coat like Ailbert. Maybe it was strapped to one of his legs.

       He nodded; a casual admission of also wearing a blade as an accessory.

       "Is it common for people to walk around with a magical compass hidden on them?"

      "Yes, most clan leaders keep the busola on them," he explained. "Aadya doesn't want to hold both. While the stone itself is the most valuable, the busola is the only thing that ensures it's never lost."

       Moving forward, I wouldn't be able to look at any main clan leader without imagining where they were hiding their busola...

      "And here I thought it was just a plain stick up Ubel's ass."

      With his elbow resting on the door, Nathaniel turned his mouth towards his fist to hide his smile.

       "I think you can cut the act of even remotely tolerating or trusting that vile man," I said. "Recent events have made that abundantly clear."

       He rolled his eyes.

      "Speak of the devil," I started. "Did you find his last warning strange?"

      Nathaniel perked a brow.

      "He kept saying bring Savannah back. He barely cared about the stone. It screams trap, one that was obviously orchestrated by Ubel."

      The small glint of humor in Nathaniel's eyes disappeared. "We're definitely walking into a trap," he agreed. "A seemingly well-planned trap if Ubel's confidence is anything to go by."

       I wondered if he knew the term sugar coating?

      "Do we have a plan to avoid the trap?"

       "Can't make a plan when we've got nothing to work with."

       I grunted. He definitely did not understand sugar coating. Willingly walking into a trap was our only choice.

       "You asked," he reminded.

       "My bad, I shouldn't have expected anything other than a synonym to hopeless... On to better things – when do you want me to take over?"

       "Pardon?"

       "Take over." I pointed at the steering wheel. "You don't actually plan on driving for over 20 hours straight, right?" Surely him and Aadya usually split the drives. "Let me drive a while, so you can rest."

       I preferred him to be well rested when we arrived. I was very much relying on him to keep me alive.

       Nathaniel grimaced and shifted in his seat as though suddenly uncomfortable.

      "What?" I demanded. "What's with that face?"

       "Avalynn..." he started hesitantly, seemingly unable to finish his sentence.

       "You don't trust my driving," I accused.

       He at least had the decency to look at me with some remorse.

       "You've never seen me drive."

       "You're naturally impulsive and very easily distracted... Those qualities don't tend to make the best drivers."

      I narrowed my eyes. "I'm a great driver... Plus, the roads are empty. We haven't seen another car in miles."

       "These roads are prime territory for deer," he objected.

      "Occasional speed bump, so what?"

       Per his norm, Nathaniel wasn't amused by my humor.

       "I'm kidding," I retorted. "Come on, pull over. You need to rest if you're going to save me from falling into an obvious trap."

      He fought his mental demons a few seconds longer before sighing loudly and turning the flasher on. I grinned as he pulled over and jumped out of the car as soon as he parked. At least, driving would give me something to do for a few hours.

       Nathaniel took the passenger seat hesitantly and gripped the holy-shit bar before I even put the car in drive.

      "Try to relax," I advised him. "I'll be careful. The last thing I want to do is kill us before Ubel's trap can do so."

       "Avalynn," he groaned. "You're not helping."

      "Don't you think we should be on a nickname basis by now?" I asked with a scrunched nose. "Everybody calls me Ava, stop with the Avalynn."

      I don't think he even registered my words. I veered onto the road, smoothly might I add, and Nathaniel seemed ready to trigger another case of cardiac arrest, minus the tub of ice.

      "My dad took me out driving a few times, Nate," I reassured him, hoping he would loosen the death grip that he had on the handle between his hand.

       "I don't like nicknames."

       He probably found them too personal for his emotionally stunted state. "Maybe you just haven't found the right one...Neil?"

       He crinkled nose.

       "Nathan?" I tried again. "Natty? Taniel? Tannie?"

       "Awful," he stated. "Are you trying to distract me from your driving?"

       "What's your middle name?" I ignored his question. Did he have to read through my every move?

       "Christopher."

       "N-C?" I tried and gripped the steering wheel excitedly. That one was good. "Ooh, I like that. Or—"

       "Please stop."

      I huffed defeatedly. I would find him a nickname that he would come to appreciate. Mark my words.

       "Concentrate on the road," he grunted. "I'm going to pretend this isn't happening." With that said, he pulled a hoodie from the back and covered his face. He released the bar and leaned into the door to get comfortable. He was still tense, but he was trying to relax as though to sleep.

       "Goodnight, I guess," I mumbled.

       Whether he was already sleeping or once again ignoring me, there was no reply. Nathaniel was silent, his most natural state.

       When I narrowly missed a racoon an hour later, I was incredibly grateful that Nathaniel was in fact asleep. He would have never let me behind the wheel again, even though it was dark. Luckily, he was in deep sleep if the snoring was anything to go by. I smirked at the noise, tempted to grab my phone to record him. Alas, I took his advice and focused on the road.