Page 139

Dawsyn sighs but pulls him to stride beside her. “Oh?” she says ambling along in the snow, for once not hurrying in any particular direction. It feels foreign to dawdle. “You don’t fear I’ll run off to Glacia without you?”

“Won’t you?” he fires back, fingers unintentionally biting into her palm.

She smiles weakly. “So you do not trust me.”

“I trust that your mind is turning over the same thoughts as mine,” he says. “I trust that you’ll act exactly as I expect you to.”

Dawsyn grits her teeth; the barb begs her to pull at it. “And what is it that you expect of me?”

“Bravery,” he says, pulling her to a stop so he can watch her face. “Recklessness.”

“I am notreckless.”

Ryon’s expression is flat. “You stormed the Terrsaw palace. Twice. You tried to kill Alvira on a whim, and Adrik, and–”

“Those were calculations,” Dawsyn says, smirking. “I knew you were standing behind me.”

“So, it is only my strength you admire me for?”

“No. I admire your wings, too. Walking is tiresome.”

His smile is not lasting. “Baltisse once warned me to stay away from you, you know? She told me I’d met my match. In more ways than one.”

Dawsyn tsks. “Are you regretting your choices, my love?”

“Choices?” he asks. “There was nochoice, malishka.”

Dawsyn walks ahead, ignoring the ache in her chest. “I felt her… Baltisse. In that mage clan. She seemed peaceful.”

Ryon stares, eyes widening.

“Inside the wards, Roznier said something to you,” Dawsyn continues. “Something about you having returned to the clan? Had you been there before?”

“Ah, that’s a long story. It was where I first met Baltisse.”

Dawsyn’s mouth falls open. “You jest.”

But Ryon is laughing in earnest now, shaking his head. “It was during one of my first expeditions down the mountain in the night. One moment I was a travelling down the slope, next, I was wrapped in vine, trapped. I found myself gagged and dragged back behind their wards, tied to a tree. They left me there and went about their business, talking about their plans to cook me when the sun set. I was shouting and braying like a fool when Baltisse walked by. She dressed differently from the others. Spoke differently. She inspected me like I was an insect, sniffed the air around me, and said, ‘What is your name?’ I spat it out, and she sighed, as though she’d known the answer already. As though she was hoping I’d say otherwise. Then, she said, ‘Well, I suppose I cannot leave you here.’

“She spoke to Roznier, told her I was ‘an important piece in the game.’ I had no idea what she spoke of. All I knew was that I was freed and then folded outside the wards. Baltisse asked me what I was doing so far from Glacia and of course she could read the answer in my mind. She knew of all my grand plans within the moment and she smiled. She described to me an inn not far past the Fallen Village in the valley. She said it was owned by a drunk named Salem, who would offer me lodgings far away from the Mecca, should I need it. She told me I could find her there. And then she disappeared.”

Ryon smiled. “I met Salem on my very next venture. Esra soon after. They became my home away from home quicker than I could imagine. Baltisse healed me. Counselled me when I needed it, and when you finally came along, Dawsyn, she told me that if I could not stay away from you, then I should stand by you. Protect you.” Ryon halts and his hand pulls Dawsyn to a stop alongside him. “But I won’t stand by you this time, Dawsyn.” All traces of humour evaporate. “If you sacrifice yourself to that pool, I won’t stand behind your decision. I won’t forgive you. Do you understand me?”

Dawsyn sighs. She reaches up to touch his chest, laying her hand on his heart. “I made a promise to you,” she says. “I do not intend to break it.”

He looks over her head. “Whether you intend it or not, I fear it matters very little. The moment before the sword drops, if the chance avails itself… you’ll change your mind.”

She does not meet his eye. She has never been a good liar, never needed to resort to coercion to achieve any end. It pains her to do so now.

“You don’t need to fear,” she says, bringing her body up against his, wrapping her arms around his waist. She lays her head against his breastbone, where he cannot see her eyes, and she breathes him in.

How cruel life is, to ration the time between lovers. Each time she finds herself here, in the circle of his arms, she feels sure she is home.

Has she ever told him that? That he is the place she thinks of when warmth evades her? Has she told him how the spark in her mind grows brighter when they touch?

“We go to Glacia to kill Adrik,” Ryon says to her. “And we will find some other way to be rid of that fucking pool. We’ll fill it with stone, bury it in the rubble of the palace.”

Dawsyn clutches his collar and brings his lips down to meet hers. She willingly loses herself in the press of his mouth, in the clutch of his wide hands at the dips of her waist. She feels his deep exhale when her tongue slides past his teeth and pulls him tighter, anything to smooth the lines in his furrow. She tucks away the truth, the great unavoidable certainties she feels.