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“Then why–”

“Because it would divide the others,” Dawsyn says. “Those who believe Abertha killed Wes, those whose ears Nevrak has already filled. He suspects I cannot bring them to the end of the Chasm. Each day, these people grow wearier, less certain, less hopeful. Killing Nevrak will only spread distrust. I will not allow factions to be created before we’ve even reached a place to settle.”

“And if Abertha’s throat should be cut in the night?”

“I will send Hector to watch her. Guard her, if he must. He is well equipped to handle Nevrak.”

“That human is dangerous, Dawsyn. Leaving him alive is a mistake.”

“I will not have those I lead watch me cut him down.”

“When will you accept yourself as worthy of following? These people will see it for what it is – a threat to be eliminated.”

“That is a Glacian’s ploy. Human’s do not always carve inroads by killing that which blocks the path.”

Ryon huffs mirthlessly and Dawsyn sees too late the line she has redrawn between them. “Humans kill plenty,” he says acidly. “You are no exception.”

She stops. Ryon has walked them away from the others, where no one will hear. She unwraps herself from his hold. Staggering as she regains her footing. Her neck heats. Her hands clench.

“I do not deny it,” she says, aware of the way her chest smarts with a new ache. “It is notgoodnessstopping me from killing a man like Nevrak. These people will turn their backs to me the instant they believe I cannot be trusted.”

“Then you have already lost,” Ryon rebukes, his expression steely. There’s something desperate beneath the surface, something entrenched in fear. “You sabotaged yourself the second you lied to them and led them away from Terrsaw.”

Again, that ache. It strikes her chest anew, doubling the pain. Ryon lifts his eyes from hers and looks to the heavens, where not a single star shows itself. He curses lowly. “If you had but told them everything, allowed them to make the choice to follow, you would only risk dooming yourself in this venture,” he says, shaking his head. “But you chose coercion. And now, you may doom them all.” And still, he looks skyward, refusing to meet her eyes. Keeping from her that light she can always find in him, the confidence and awe and reverence he reserves for her.

He withholds it now. His jaw ticks with agitation. His hands rise to scrub his face. “I’ve followed you without question,” he says. “And it was my choice to do so. But you have tricked these people into doing the same.”

“Yes,” Dawsyn says, the hurt quickly solidifying to contempt. “And I did not do it lightly. I know what it is to be coerced.Liedto.”

There they are - those old pains, the old treasons. She hurls them into the space between them now, as though they are shields. She barricades herself against whatever cuts he might inflict. Inside, she boils.

Ryon gives a long-suffering breath. In it, she hears his exhaustion. And still, he holds his stare up and away from her.

Dawsyn follows his gaze. Somewhere above, the Chasm opens to the heavens. How it must beckon him, she now realises. How easy it would be for him to escape this fate she leads him to.

“Go,” Dawsyn says now.

Ryon looks down at her, confused. “What?”

“Go,” she says again, nodding to the sky. “If that is what you wish.”

Ryon scoffs again, his lips curling into a sneer, into something that masks hurt. “You know absolutely nothing of what I wish.”

“You stare at the sky as though you would bid it closer.”

“Name a person here who doesn’t,” Ryon growls, he steps closer, lowers his face until it is an inch from hers. “Do you think I would leave you here? Leave our friends here?”

“You say I have doomed them all.” Her voice quavers, her heart racing with something unspent, something she desperately tries to strangle into silence. “If that is what you believe, then I will not scorn you for making your escape.”

Ryon turns away from her, mutters the old language in a hot stream. He exudes frustration, disappointment. Lines cord down the back of his neck. Yet, his wings do not appear. He does not summon them.

He turns until he can meet her eyes and says, “Mother above, girl. I’ve been run through by talons and swords and blades, butyouare still the biggest pain in my arse.” And then he leaves, cursing loudly as he goes.

Dawsyn stands there in the darkness alone and finally lets the shame wash over her.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Ryon wakes long before he should, disconcerted. Beside him is the form of a person he does not recognise. A woman not his own, and then he remembers… Abertha.