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Rhyan pulled back, groaning as if it were physically painful for him to do so. “I want you,” he said, his hands sliding down my arms, fingers pressing into my flesh. “I want you so fucking much. But we can’t do this. Not here, not now. It’s complicating everything.”

“Everything was already complicated.”

“I know. But I think until Valyati, we have to be extra careful. I know the rumors. I know the way Tristan looks at me. Every time I touch you, I’m putting your life in danger. And the way I feel about you—clouds my judgment. My ability to protect you, to train you, to fulfill my oath as a soturion, stop the threat, it’s all compromised. Because sometimes when I look at you….” He shook his head. “It’s almost too much. I forget. I forget what I must do. The oaths I swore. Maybe our kashonim isn’t tied to a blood oath, where a kiss will threaten everything. But the magic still carries weight. And I can’t—I won’t risk you.”

He leaned in, inhaling the scent of my hair, as I took in his, pine and musk. His lips brushed against my forehead. One kiss, and then he was gone.

I lay in my bed for hours, staring at the moon through my window, listening to the waves of the ocean crashing against the shore and the sounds of the people filling the halls of Cresthaven. It had been years since I’d heard so much noise and activity in my home. Not since the scars on my wrist had been forced upon me.

Getting up at some point to pee, I heard a door open down the hall. I moved to mine, cracked it open, and found Morgana creeping past my door. She stopped at the landing, poking her head around the corner to the stairs, cursed to herself, and turned around.

“Fuck,” she said when she saw me.

“Is everything all right? Do you want me to get something for you from downstairs?”

“No,” she said, wincing in pain. “Nothing’s going to help me right now.”

“Then what were you—?”

“I was listening,” she said, her eyes dark. “The threat has been, I guess we’ll call it paused.”

“So nothing’s changed. We’re just not actively under attack.”

“Sure. Nothing’s changed.” She slapped her palm against her wrist. “Except this. And the fact that I was right.”

“What?”

“That’s what I was listening for—Father’s mental chatter in the fuss of all the nobles downstairs. He lied to you. To us. There was no spell. No mage magic can undo a blood oath.”

I shook my head, starting to piece it together, my stomach knotting.But the scars are gone. The blood oaths are gone.

Morgana’s nostrils flared, her eyes darkening with anger as she read my thoughts.

“How?” I asked.

“He went to Mercurial. He made a fucking deal with the Afeya.”

My stomach twisted. “What was the price? What did he promise in return?”

Morgana shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s very carefully not thinking about it—that or he’s in denial.” Her eyebrows narrowed. “I guess that’s one of those things we’ll just have to wait and see.”

THE THIRD SCROLL:

VALYATI

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Again,”Rhyansaid.“Lift.Higher. Steady…steady. Good. Loosen your grip. The sword’s an extension of your arm. You’re not holding onto it for dear life. It is your life.”

My arm burned as I followed Rhyan’s instructions. We’d been at this for hours. For weeks. Holding the sword, switching between hands, toning my wrists, and building my strength before engaging in battle.

“Now lower. Slow. Nice and slow. Other hand. Back up.”

He walked in circles around me, making small adjustments, relaxing my shoulder, pressing a finger into my belly until I tightened my core, lifting my chin. His eyes remained focused, studious, assessing.

“The Dance of Asherah,” he commanded, clapping his hands in rhythm.

I twirled, circling my hips, my arms raised above my head, the sword in hand. Rhyan slowed his claps as my hips snaked down following their beat, my knees bending until I was practically sitting on the ground. Rhyan increased his pace, his claps coming harder and faster as I undulated my belly, my arm still lifted, my body rising back up as I balanced on my toes.