Page 71

The tracks lead us along the edge of a shallow pool, the water green and stagnant. But the tracks continue, disappearing into a dense patch of undergrowth. Calysian breaks off a large tree branch, allowing us to carefully lead the horses deeper.

And then I hear it.

The sound is faint, barely more than a trickle. We break through the undergrowth, and my breath stutters from my lungs.

The swamp opens into a small clearing—a glimpse of joy carved out of the endless muck. A shallow stream winds through the clearing, the water clear as it flows over smooth stones. The horses don’t wait, moving toward the water and lowering their heads to drink.

Calysian crouches by the stream, cupping his hand and inhaling deep before taking a cautious sip.

“It’s fresh. Cool too.”

The stream is flanked by raised patches of grass, soft and bright green. It feels like a different world after slogging through the muddy, dark mire surrounding us.

“There’s more,” Calysian points upstream to a small pool, where the stream widens and slows. It’s edged by moss-covered rocks. “I’ll check it.”

He turns and makes his way toward the pool while I kneel next to the stream, gulping at the water until my thirst is quenched. We’ve been conserving our own supply, aware that it could take us some time to find a fresh source.

“It’s deep enough to wash both the horses and ourselves without stirring up the drinking water downstream,” Calysian announces.

As we untack the horses, checking them again for injuries, tendrils of dark power sweep toward me, luring me toward the grimoire. Grinding my teeth, I ignore the urge to turn and sprint toward its hiding place.

Calysian catches my wrist as I go to pull Hope’s saddle from her back. “Go bathe. I’ll finish here.”

I open my mouth, but he has that steely glint in his eyes that tells me he’ll be stubborn about this. Besides, I’m desperate to soak away the dirt that clings to every inch of my body.

Poking around in my saddlebag, I pull out clean clothes and a bar of soap, then leave Calysian to his task.

The water is cool enough to make me shiver, and I dunk my entire body, sloughing away sweat and mud. I keep one eye on Calysian, but he’s ruthlessly angling his gaze away from me, his jaw a hard line.

I watch him as I lather soap across my skin.

As much as I’ve attempted to ignore reality, he won’t be traveling with me to find Daharak and the others after he gets the grimoire.

I’ve felt the lure of that dark power. I can feel it even now. And Calysian won’t be able to help himself. He’ll need to find the other grimoires.

These are the last days I’ll spend with him. And then we will separate.

And if he truly does appear to be a threat to this world—and anyone I’ve ever cared about—my only chance will be to kill him before he gets the other two grimoires.

Can I do that? Can I thrust my sword through his back?

Nausea sweeps through me, and my chest turns strangely hollow.

He wouldn’t be the same man. I have to remember that. Killing him would save this world.

My lip trembles and I bite down until it aches. No. I refuse to accept such a thing. I won’t accept it until I’m staring into Calpharos’s eyes and I know for sure that there is no other way.

Pushing the thought from my mind, I sweep the soap down my arms, basking in the feeling of finally being clean.

Calysian murmurs something to Fox, as he checks Hope’s hooves. His gaze is still carefully turned from my body as he begins to set up our camp.

This is a man who is used to taking what he wants. And yet in this, he’s waiting for my invitation.

He freezes, and I can see the stiffness of his muscles. He knows I’m naked, my eyes on him. And it’s taking everything in him not to turn and face me.

The thought of all that passion and fury unleashed…

I shiver.