Page 42

Chapter Forty-Two

Annora

There are no colors left, no vibrancy. Even the sky is a canvas of black, with no stars. Or maybe the clouds are covering them all up—shrouding them so I don’t have to look at anything beautiful.

When we reach the camp, I slip from my mare’s back, but I only take two steps before the overwhelming urge to vomit hits me. I swallow, trying to fight it, needing to fight it, but it comes up anyway.

I lean over, retching into the sunbaked clay.

“Annora,” Aleksander says as he moves to try to help me.

Enraged, I shove his hand away and vomit again—right on his boots.

He doesn’t lash out. Instead, he stares at me, his expression unreadable in the darkness. I swipe a hand across my mouth as I straighten, hating him, hating what he made me do. For several breaths, he stands there, then he turns and walks away.

I stumble into my tent and collapse onto the bed, not bothering to remove my boots or cloak.

The memories surge over me—one after another. Flames consuming homes. Screams piercing the night. People running, their faces etched with terror as everything they knew burned around them.

My stomach twists again, but there’s nothing left to purge.

I curl into myself and pull a thin blanket over my head, as if it could shield me from the images, but they keep coming.

“Why?” I whisper into the darkness. “Why did I do it?”

My hands brought that destruction.

My hands.

I pull them from beneath the blanket, staring at them. Ash lines the creases of my palms, and tiny cuts mar the skin where debris struck me. But it’s the silver bracelets that draw my eye. Three slender bands encircle my wrist now.

They mock me, each one representing a life I’ve taken. Three bands. Three deaths at the gallows. And now...how many more? Dozens? Hundreds? I’ve lost count of how many homes we burned, how many people fled screaming into the night.

My fingers tremble as I trace the cool metal. The urge to claw them off overwhelms me, but I know it’s futile. These aren’t mere ornaments. They’re shackles.

A sob catches in my throat as I think of Jasce.

How can I face him after this?