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But didn’t kill him.Maybe Ihadfound a way to pull back, if only a little. It was a small victory, but I hardly felt victorious.

Kost’s voice was sharp enough to pierce a Laharock hide. “Gaige lost control.”

Rather, I’d nearly killed him. Both of them. He didn’t need to obscure the truth for my sake. My emotions had gotten the better of me, and my shadows didn’t hesitate to react to my anger. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t intended for any of this to happen. It still happened just the same.

Calem leapt to his feet. His eyes met mine and he grinned, as if his life hadn’t just hung in the balance of my unpredictable power. “It’ll get easier. I promise.”

Kost stood slowly. “That’s enough training for tonight.” Then, to Calem, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Please. I had Gaige right where I wanted him.” Nothing apparently shook Calem’s resolve. Just mine. He waved Kost off as he started toward camp. “I do need some fresh clothes, though.” His tunic was in tattered shreds, and a few cuts were visible beneath them. The wounds were already healing, though, and he wiped away smeared blood with his shirt.

Kost’s stride was stiff beside him, his own cut quickly healing with each measured breath. I could hardly bring myself to look at him. “Likewise.”

Calem craned his head over his shoulder to look at me. “You actually detected my presence, though, which is progress.”

The tension between my shoulders loosened a fraction. “I did?”Right now, I’d take any win. Any sign that we were moving forward so nothing like this ever happened again.

“Well, sort of anyway.” He shrugged.

We came to the camp and Calem grabbed his bag. He rummaged through clothing as he slumped to the ground. Ozias sat beside him on a log, his thick hands clasped together before him. Concern was still evident in his deep brown eyes, but the veins tracking his arms were no longer popping through his skin.

His caterpillar-thick brows scrunched together as he glanced at me. “Did you see him?”

“No, I only saw a void.”

Ozias smiled. “That’s good! We can all see each other when we move through the realm. You’re almost there.” A small bubble of relief formed in my chest.

And then Kost popped it.

“You should have mastered that skill already.” Kost removed his glasses and polished the lenses with tense fingers. His words were frosty—rightfully so, given I’d just run a shadow blade into his back. I didn’t even have it in me to be frustrated with his response. So instead, I said nothing. My mind was a swirling mess. There were a few moments of control nestled in the absolute shitstorm I’d just manifested, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept praise for something so small when everything else was so obviously bad.

As the rest of them set about preparing dinner, I simply stared at my hands. Myglovedhands. Even on a base level, I was hiding. Hiding from the truth of my existence, burying it beneath leather as if that would somehow lessen the ache of that horrid reminder on the back of my hand. I couldn’t face what I’d lost. I couldn’t face what I was supposed to be now. I’d pushed for solutions in the beginning, when I spent days in the library searching for answers. The only difference was, I hadn’t pushed to get better at being undead.I’d pushed for a cure. I wanted a way out. And when I couldn’t find one… I gave up.

I never even tried to control the power I’d inherited. Not really.

Tears pricked the back of my eyes. If my inaction meant nearly killing someone I loved… Not loved, but… If it meant almost killing Kost…

He was right. He was always right.

Without bothering to say good night, I slipped into the tent Ozias had kindly set up for me and fell upon the makeshift bed. My fingers trembled as I curled into a ball and squeezed my eyes shut against a burn of tears I refused to give myself the relief of shedding.

I didn’t care if I slept or not.

EIGHT

KOST

Weak light filtered through the canvas of my tent, signaling the morning’s arrival. With a forceful exhale, I pulled back the thin blanket I’d packed, pleased to finally be traveling in more temperate weather. The undead had a high tolerance for cold, but I much preferred the crisp, spring air and gentle warmth from the sun.

After dressing quickly, I stepped out into the quiet morning, only to falter at the edge of my tent. Gaige was already awake, sitting on a dying tree stump and tending to a small fire. Judging by the ashy color of the coals, it’d been burning for some time. An unpleasant tingling crawled over my skin, but I kept my expression carefully blank.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I sat on a smooth boulder across from him. A gentle breeze ruffled the flames, and they snarled for a moment before dying back down.

Gaige poked the logs with a slender stick. “I slept some.” The bags around his eyes, however, contradicted that statement. His gaze was bleary, his hair a bit frazzled. With his elbows braced on his knees, he rolled his neck from shoulder to shoulder. He dragged his gaze from the flames to me. “Does everyone in Cruor get up at such a ridiculous hour?”

“Clearly not.” I jerked my thumb to the tent at my back. Ozias’s steady snore ebbed and flowed with the cadence of ocean waves. “He won’t wake up until midmorning at the earliest unless someone rouses him. Calem on the other hand…” I tipped my chin toward his tent. The flaps were tied back to reveal an empty interior, save a saddlebag he’d propped up like a pillow. “He always rises with the sun.”

“I assumed it was just to find us breakfast.”