Page 48

Bria

W e ride through the next day, making our way out of that dreaded scrubland, the wretched Gravenear Territory where I was attacked.

We only pause for a few short breaks to stretch weary limbs and allow the horses to graze and drink.

None of us packed food, all fleeing the camp in a rush the prior night.

But Quinn scavenged through the belongings of the downed men, finding enough dried meat to suffice and some money to aid in buying more should we need it.

As we travel further southeast, the weather markedly improves.

The beginnings of spring are apparent in every grove we pass.

Hues of moss and mint speckle the soft, muddy ground, rose and apricot-colored buds dotting the trees.

And the breeze. I inhale the warm air, infused with a fresh floral scent.

It reminds me of the gardens where we grew up and makes me yearn to go back there. Whatever is left of it, that is.

Quinn had mentioned a large town we would cross into soon.

Fallholt, I think he called it. He said we should be there by dark, and the plan is to find lodging for a few hours so we can rest and allow the horses some time to recover.

There, we can stock up on more food to last the remainder of the trip.

The town rests on the edge of the Gilded Forest which will take us another day to fully pass through.

But then…then we will be on the outskirts of the capital.

Easthallow and Castle Eccleston will be within my grip.

Evander and Quinn had been deep in discussion all day and I struggled to keep my attention on them, my body dropping in and out of sleep.

Weariness had taken over, along with the pain of my injuries, and I was having a hard time keeping awake at all.

Not to mention I was trying to sleep while atop a horse.

It’s not the easiest thing to do, and it’s been making any sleep at all happen in short bursts.

Their talks are of strategy, formulating plans for how to approach the town and how to infiltrate the castle.

I need to keep my gifts under control this close to the capital.

And traveling through a town with no clear reason will rouse suspicion if we aren’t careful.

I’ve gathered that much from the bits of their chatter I’ve actually managed to listen to.

Listening to their conversation, I realize that any town this big that happens to still be standing will be sworn to the king.

And therefore, be full of people who will capture me without thinking twice about it.

They settle on a story where the two of them are escorting me from the small southern town of Dunnwurth to stay with family in Easthallow.

We all happen to be familiar with Dunnwurth, having grown up only a few towns over from there and are hoping it will serve as enough of an excuse.

If anyone asks questions, we know at least enough about the area to answer with some detail, though the idea is to be out of there before too many questions can be asked anyway.

Despite my drifting in and out of consciousness, I’m awake now.

Dusk is settling around us and the horizon is striped in crisp orange and deep pinks.

I figure we must be getting close to Fallholt by now.

The pain in my wrist and fingers is a constant, dull ache, but if I move it at all, sharp jabs radiate through my bones and make my stomach twist and turn with nausea.

Once we find a healer, setting the bones will be unpleasant, to say the least. I see how limp my wrist hangs and how my ring finger bends at an awkward angle.

The wrist is completely shattered, and I worry there may be no way for a healer to completely fix the damage that’s been done.

They can try, and I can at least get something for the pain.

I press my back against Ev, leaving my body flush with his chest, letting the warmth of him encompass me along with his arms that encircle my waist. One hand rests on my hip, and I nestle further into him.

“You’re awake,” he says against my ear when I move. The feeling of his breath sends a shiver down my spine. There’s the lingering scent of lemongrass in his hair, but it is quickly being replaced with a more damp, musky aroma from sweat and fighting the night before.

“Mmmm,” I hum, tipping my head back to his shoulder.

We are positioned slightly behind Quinn, the road narrower here, not allowing the ease of riding side by side.

His outline is faint as the sky darkens and he is wholly focused on getting to the town ahead of us.

Small pinpricks of glinting lights are emerging in the distance indicating how close we are.

Evander moves my hair to the side and trails his nose up the edge of my neck, pressing a kiss into the hollow below my ear. The tickling sensation sends me wriggling against him, and he stiffens, tightening his hand on my waist, fingers gripping into me.

His breath is hot against the skin of my neck, and he latches his teeth around the lobe of my ear, nipping quickly before releasing the skin.

I stifle a cry at the unexpectedly sharp sensation that’s quickly followed by a throbbing throughout my body.

We should both be focused on getting to the town, but the distraction from the uncertainty ahead and the agony of the here and now is welcome.

So instead, I press against him again, pushing my hips back and grinding.

Warmth floods through me, dulling the aching I feel in my shoulder and wrist, effectively giving me the distraction I crave.

He groans in my ear, fingers pressing deeper into my hip, and my skin flushes in response.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The action is far bolder than how I’ve normally been around men, or around him, even.

Maybe it’s the impending future, the unknown.

Maybe it’s the fact that I nearly died and now knowing that I still have time.

But I want more of what we shared. Want to experience everything I can with him while there’s still time to do so.

“Thinking about how to thank you for last night,” I respond, my voice only a fraction above a whisper, trying not to attract Quinn’s attention.

It happens to be the truth. That’s exactly what I’m thinking about. He gave me a night of pleasure and I repaid him by trapping him in my shadows, getting shot, having my wrist and hand destroyed, and dragging him into this mess of a situation.

His voice remains low, his tone turning firm. “Bria, you never have to thank me for protecting you,” he insists. “Not only is it my job to do so, but I want to.”

I shake my head, feeling his face pressing against mine as I do.

“I wasn’t talking about that.” I move my hips again and his hand dips inward on my leg, letting me know he now understands what I mean. His fingers leave my hip and trail along my thigh, sending a pulsing between them.

Evander’s lips graze over my neck, his fingers creeping slowly across to my inner thigh and coasting steadily upward. He pushes his thumb directly to my center, pressing the seam of my pants against the swollen and needy area. I suck in a sharp breath, stilling and waiting for him to continue.

“Not here,” he says firmly, quickly removing his hand and laying it back on my hip. I sigh heavily, disappointed in the annoying reality that he’s right. A quick glance to Quinn shows no indication he noticed the interaction,but it shows in my body’s response to him, burning and slick with desire.

But then the town of Fallholt comes into view, the beauty of it striking and it puts a damper on the urgency I feel for Ev.

Lanterns hang from posts lining the cobblestone road into the heart of the town.

Stately homes are woven in with shops and businesses.

People are roaming the streets, going about their normal lives.

Some turn their heads to look at the newcomers, probably because we look a bit worse for wear right now.

But most mind their own business and we fall into the bustle easily.

I had forgotten what being in a real town was like.

The sounds, the smells, everything is hitting me at once.

It’s overwhelming and exciting at the same time.

This place makes me think of Nimai and how we would walk through the streets of Elwyn together, perusing shops, buying treats, and spending the day with one another.

It only takes a few moments with those memories before I remember my purpose here. Nimai.

A chill runs through my veins. The mark of Vaohr—an icy blue circle inlaid with a crystal-tipped spear—is everywhere, the emberstone that is said to have ended the Keeper.

The true story, of course, is that he cleaved his magic in two to create his daughters and that without that happening, Edwin’s men would never have killed the god.

But that’s not how the Eccleston family likes it portrayed.

The priests took the symbol as their emblem to prove how they retrieved the magic for the rightful god. Their god.

My parents privately worshipped to the gods of the Woods—the Keeper, Uldnoir, the god of life and death; the Current, Rhezenar, the god of water and wind; and the Incendiary, Caarae, the goddess of earth and fire.

The true deities in this world. But they had done so in the quiet of their own homes, never exposing us as heathens.

Many others did the same, the magical bloodlines remaining true to the gods of the Woods in secret.

I know Evander’s mother was one of them, that she prayed to the rightful gods until her husband took them to Easthallow.

I sometimes catch myself speaking to Lilith when I’m alone.

Not a prayer per say, but more of a one-sided conversation. I was never much for prayers.

But this symbol makes my blood boil, knowing the men who destroyed my family bore the emblem of Vaohr and the king. An obvious contrast to the emblem of the prophecy so often worn in secret by the gifted, the symbol I know Evander still wears after all these years.

Just as I think of him, he stiffens behind me, also catching sight of the symbol etched into nearly every surface. We need to remain vigilant, no matter how passive the town seems right now.We aren’t safe here.