Page 2

TYCHO

By the time I head back across the camp, it’s almost full dark. Jax and the other soldiers were gone when I exited Prince Rhen’s tent, their fire banked and left to embers. They were fletching arrows, so I wonder if they went shooting.

That tug in my heart refuses to go away.

I’m being ridiculous. I’m glad he’s found a few friends when so many people here look like they’re waiting for a chance to leave him bleeding in a ditch. But I don’t recognize the emotion that keeps pulling at my heart every time I see Jax with them. Is it longing? Jealousy? I’m not sure.

Either way, he’s not here. He likely followed Kutter and Sephran wherever they went.

That clench in my chest doesn’t loosen one bit.

Across the field, soldiers are laying out bedrolls and starting card games. Bottles of liquor are pulled from hiding spots, whispers calling warnings whenever an officer is spotted.

I head back toward the horses, where I won’t be alone—at least, not yet—but it’s easy to lose myself in the shadows.

When I get to Mercy, Jax is waiting there, feeding her an apple, his eyes gleaming in the fading light. A few tendrils of hair have pulled loose from his knot to fall around his face, and there’s the faintest hint of beard growth along his chin. He smiles when he sees me, but it’s a quiet smile, a private smile.

“Jax,” I say. My heart gives a little skip, because I just want to grab hold of him and not let go.

But then I consider the soldiers, the meeting with Rhen, the way fate seems determined to take every moment of my life and make it as difficult or painful as possible. My skipping heart stumbles and falls.

“I thought I might find you here,” he says.

I’m not sure what that means, and I can’t read his voice. “Yeah?”

He nods, shifting on his crutches to lean against Mercy’s shoulder. “I remember what you said about soldiering. I can tell you don’t want to be traveling with the army.”

That’s a little too astute, and I almost flinch. I hate that I’m so easy to read. It’s a good thing I’m being sent away from the king, because if Grey sensed my discomfort, he’d order me to spend every second of every day in the center of a formation. He’s more the type to face any challenge head-on, without fear. I’ve always admired that. Aspired to it.

Envied it.

I shake off these thoughts. “What did I say about soldiering?”

“That you loved training and sparring,” he says. “But the actual soldiering . . . not so much.”

There’s weight in his voice, and I frown. I know it wasn’t his intent, but the way he found me here makes me feel vulnerable, like I was hiding.

That’s probably what makes me say, “ You don’t seem to mind it much. I saw you with Kutter and Sephran.”

The words come out sharp, like a challenge. A line appears between his eyebrows, and Jax straightens on his crutches. “Oh, so you’re trying to pick a fight with everyone you meet tonight.”

Maybe I am. But as with Rhen, I wish I could reel the words back into my mouth. I run a hand across the back of my neck. “No,” I say with a sigh. “Jax—”

“Oh, stop. Here.” He pulls a wrapped square of muslin out of the pouch at his waist, then holds it out to me.

I stare at him for a moment, flummoxed.

“Take it,” he says, thrusting the fabric at me. “I know you skipped the dinner call. I’m willing to bet you missed the midday rations, too.”

I take the muslin, and it’s heavier than I expect. When I unwrap it, I discover six dried strips of beef, a wide slab of cheese, and an orange.

My heart gives another clench, and my eyes flick back up to his. I swallow hard. “You brought me dinner?”

Mercy is nosing at his fingers, looking for another apple, and he runs a hand down her face. “You nearly drew your sword when that soldier bumped into you. I figured you should eat something.”

I flush. “I wasn’t going to pick a fight.”

He makes a noncommittal sound and turns back to the horse. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

The sad thing is, he’s probably right. Now that the food is in my hands, I can smell it, and I’m starving . Mercy is stretching her neck out, reaching for the orange, her nostrils flaring as she whuffles for the fruit. I smile and duck under the tether lines to keep out of reach. “I’m sure Jax already gave you my apple,” I tell her.

“She asked nicely,” he says.

I take a few steps back from the horses so I can sit in the grass. Jax seems to hesitate, but then he drops his crutches in the grass and sits down beside me. The sky is darkening overhead, and several stars are already visible, gleaming among the purple and pink of the few clouds that linger. It’s warmer here than in Syhl Shallow, and now that it’s late spring, we’ve begun to reach the days when I’m grateful for the fading sunlight, because it means the weight of leather and weapons won’t be such a burden.

He’s quiet while I eat, so I’m quiet, but I’m very aware of how close he is. Our knees are almost touching. I think of everything Rhen told me, the way he wanted to know if the soldiers have a problem with Jax being here. A tight knot of worry forms in my gut, joining the dozen others that never seem to loosen. The sky keeps darkening overhead, and we haven’t said anything in so long that I nearly jump when Jax’s fingertips brush over mine.

It’s just a faint touch, a light reminder that he’s here, and I look over to find his eyes sparkling like the stars. Everything we have together is new and untested, but he’s one of the few people I know whose presence always seems to . . . to unwind me. Sometimes, like now, I want to grab him so badly that it aches.

“You haven’t been sleeping either,” he says.

I don’t know what to say to that, so I shrug.

“You’re the King’s Courier. Surely you warrant a private tent.”

I scoff. “I’m not going to ask for a private tent. My reputation is already in the gutter.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Because of me.”

“What? No.”

“It’s all right. As I’ve said before, I know who you are. I know who I am. The king told me there were tensions at court because of our . . . ? involvement.”

I go very still. A breeze cuts across the fields, slicing between us.

“When did he say that?” I finally ask.

“In Briarlock.” Jax looks at me as the shadows lengthen across the grass. “When he was asking me about Alek and everything he did. The king explained how you risked your role at court.”

“That wasn’t because of you, Jax.” I finish the last piece of dried beef and attack the orange peel a little too aggressively. “I mean—it was. But Alek made it seem like I was the one working with the Truthbringers, instead of him . He did it to get a target off his back. Grey shouldn’t have said that.”

If he were here right now, I’d be risking my role at court again, because we’d have words about it.

“I’ve hardly seen you these last few days.” Jax looks out at the sky, and his voice turns careful. “You asked for discretion before we left. I thought that might be why.”

Oh. I frown.

I remember the moment he’s talking about, when I pulled him into the shadows beside the forge on the morning we were due to leave. “We’ll be traveling with the prince and a handful of guards and soldiers,” I said to him, pressing my hand to the warmth of his cheek. “You’ve been given a new role, and I’ve been given new orders. I don’t know any of them well, but I do know how soldiers think. I don’t want rumors following us back to Ironrose Castle.”

He nodded, and I leaned in to kiss him—just as Prince Rhen’s soldiers rode into the tiny courtyard beside the forge and we were forced to break apart. It was the last time we shared more than a glancing touch.

Until this moment, I didn’t consider how my words would combine with Grey’s warnings to fill Jax’s head with doubt. I didn’t consider how my actions would lead him to think he’d done something wrong. I’ve spent days with my own thoughts so tangled up that I didn’t realize the same thing was happening to Jax.

I set down the orange and look at him, but his eyes are fixed on the stars.

“Jax,” I say softly.

“It’s all right. I understand.” He reaches for his crutches. “I likely shouldn’t be sitting with you in the grass for so long.”

I put a hand on his crutches and hold them there. “Stop,” I say softly.

He stops, but he’s not looking at me now.

“When I asked for discretion,” I say, “it was because I have a position at court, and I know how soldiers talk.” I roll my eyes a little. “And that was before we had a hundred of them to worry about.”

“I know.” He still hasn’t let go of his crutches, and they’re tight under my grip, like he’ll flee the instant I take my hand away. “And I might not speak the language, but it’s no secret that most of them resent me. I know you have to keep your distance.”

“No—Jax—you don’t understand. I’m not worried about me . Well—not much, anyway.”

He finally looks at me. “You’re worried about me?”

A bit of warmth crawls up my neck. “A bit.”

“Why? I expected it. I know what I did.” He snorts. “Honestly, the bigger surprise is that any of them are nice. I’m sure it’s just because they know the prince himself hired me to work in the forge.”

“ Exactly. ”

He blinks at me. “Exactly?”

I forget that he has no experience at court, no history with rumor and gossip and how quickly it can spread like wildfire. His experience is only from the other side, the filtered stories that would make it all the way to remote villages, usually far from any sort of truth at all.

“You defended the king when it mattered,” I say, “and you supported the army when they arrived—without question. Grey knows that. Prince Rhen knows that. You were offered the position at Ironrose for your skills in the forge. You earned this, Jax.” My cheeks are growing warm, and I drop my voice, abashed. “So . . . ?I don’t want anyone to start thinking the King’s Courier just brought you along for your skills in his bed .”

“Oh.” His eyebrows go up. “ Oh. ”

“Yeah. Oh. ” I pick the orange back up and begin pulling apart the pieces.

We sit in silence again, staring out at the darkening sky, but now my thoughts are on what I said, and my cheeks refuse to cool. Any soldiers who were lingering with the horses have moved off, and some of the tension that was clinging to my shoulders begins to ease.

Jax finally looks over, and he smiles mischievously. “So you think I’m skilled?”

I choke on the orange. “Silver hell, Jax.”

He laughs softly, and it’s a low rumble of sound that tugs at my heart again, but in a different way. A warmer way—because now I’m thinking about the exact skills he’s talking about. We’re so close that I can hear his breathing, and it’s full dark now. Moonlight finds his eyes, and I feel a clench in my belly. My hands want to touch him so badly. I’d pull the pin from his hair so it would spill loose, and then I’d drown myself on the taste of his tongue.

I realize Jax is gazing back at me, his lips slightly parted, waiting for me to yield.

I shouldn’t. I meant what I said.

But the night is so dark, the only sound coming from the horses casually stomping at flies. In the distance, the camp has mostly gone quiet as card games settle and others drift off to sleep. Another cool breeze blows between us, lifting those tendrils of hair around his face.

Maybe I am weak, because I can’t take it. I reach out and pull the pin.

His hair falls around his shoulders, and Jax lets out a breath. Despite the chill in the air, warmth fills my chest, a flame flickering to life. Out here, we’re alone, and we could be back on the other side of the mountain, the soldiers and my worries and Rhen’s warnings all a distant memory.

But a man coughs somewhere nearby, and then I hear a low rumble of another man’s voice, saying something about his stash of sugared spirits.

We snap apart so roughly that some of the nearby horses snort and throw their heads up before settling. Then we sit stock-still as two men, practically invisible in the darkness, dig through some saddlebags before their boots retreat through the grass to head back to camp.

I don’t know if they saw us. I don’t even know if it would matter .

“What did they want?” says Jax, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

My heart is pounding so hard, and my entire body is practically vibrating with tension. Sparks and stars flare in my blood again, my magic ready to face a threat that isn’t there. I have to run a hand down my face.

“One of them had a stash of liquor,” I tell him. I take a rough breath, and it sounds ragged. “Forgive me. Now you see why I’ve given you distance.” My hand is still curled around the pin from his hair, and I hold it out on my palm. “Here.”

Jax glances down, but he makes no move to take it. His eyes hold mine devilishly, and he says, “Keep it.”

I don’t know what it is about the words, but I feel them all the way to my core. I close my fingers around the slim piece of metal and fall back in the grass, closing my eyes.

Jax laughs, the tone low and sultry.

“Stop laughing,” I murmur. “You’re killing me.”

“Stop lying there. You’re killing me .”

I flush again, and I open my eyes. He’s so beautiful in the moonlight that it’s almost heartbreaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone, Jax.”

“I haven’t been alone. Lonely , because this is the longest conversation I’ve had in days, but not alone.”

I wince, thinking of the soldiers he was with earlier, wondering how they got along, because only Malin speaks any Syssalah at all. “I’m glad some of them are friendly.”

His eyes trace my expression. “You could have joined us.”

That chases some of the heat out of my body, and I look back up at the stars. On the first few days out of Briarlock, I would have joined them. I would have played cards or dice, and we might have shared stories around a campfire, with me translating for Jax.

But I think of the press of soldiers at camp, the nightmares that have haunted my sleep, the way that man brushed against my shoulder and I was ready to draw blades.

I shake my head.

Jax’s fingers brush over mine again. “Too much soldiering.”

He doesn’t say it like a question, but I nod anyway. It’s not the whole truth, not quite, but it’ll do. Something about the silent darkness makes it easier to admit fears in the middle of the night, even with my magic waiting right under my skin to respond to dangers that don’t exist. “Yeah.”

His fingers are drifting away, and I twist my hand to capture his before he can let go. I keep my eyes on the sky, because otherwise I’m going to pull him down to me, and I don’t want to risk another soldier seeing us. But I can’t sit here like this without touching him at all .

His fingers wind through mine, and we sit there for the longest time, just letting the wind wash over us as darkness cloaks the fields.

“Tycho,” he murmurs. “We shouldn’t sleep.”

My eyes flutter open, and I’m startled to discover I was beginning to fall asleep. The breeze whipping through the grass is ice cold now. There must be a storm coming. Clouds obscure the stars overhead, and I wonder if we both drifted off for a time.

“Sorry,” I say roughly.

He grimaces. “After everything you said . . . ?I figured we shouldn’t be found this way.”

“No, you’re right.” And our bedrolls shouldn’t be the only ones empty, either, but I don’t say that.

I hate this. The chill in the air suddenly matches my mood.

“Come on.” I uncurl to standing, then hold out a hand. “Let’s go.”

He takes my hand, but when I pull him upright, he grabs hold of the front of my armor. At first, I think it’s for balance—but then he presses his mouth to mine.

I inhale sharply, but I don’t protest. Maybe it’s too much or maybe I’m too weak or maybe I’m just dreaming, because I’m lost to the sudden taste of him. My hands tangle in his hair as the wind whips around us, biting at my skin. That fire lights in my belly again, sending heat through my veins. I should let him go, but I don’t. I should stop, but I won’t.

This is reckless and foolish, but right this second, I don’t care.

Maybe fate doesn’t hate me after all.

But then I feel a spark in the wind, and it tugs at my awareness. I pull away, breaking the kiss. Our breath clouds in the air between us like it’s midwinter, the air so biting it makes me shiver.

It doesn’t make sense. We’re a few weeks shy of summer.

“Tycho?” Jax says, and from the alarm in his tone, I know he sees it, too.

But he’s not looking at our shared breath. He’s staring at my arm, at the sheathed knives along my bracer, where the hilts are exposed by the leather.

Frost forms on the steel, ice crystals gathering with alarming speed.

“Scravers,” I whisper.

I look up to the sky, but it’s too dark now, especially with clouds covering the moon and stars. All I see are flickering shadows. Wings? I’m not sure. The wind burns my eyes, and I shiver again.

Then an inhuman voice finds my ears, carried on the wind.

— Find the magesmith.

I remember Rhen’s question, about the scraver Nakiis. I owe him a week of service, and he said he’d collect when he was ready.

Is this it?

A wild screech tears across the night, followed by another, sending the horses into a panicked frenzy.

“ Tycho ,” Jax says urgently. “Is it the one you know?”

Soldiers are shouting from the camp, woken by the sounds, and the screeches overhead intensify. There have to be at least three of them, maybe more. My blood goes cold.

“Tycho!” Jax demands.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Jax, I don’t know!”

I look up at the night and inhale a breath of frigid air, ready to call Nakiis’s name.

Before I can, a winged creature slams right into me. We crash into the ground and roll, but those claws have gripped tight. I can’t reach any of my weapons, but it doesn’t matter. It feels like my arm might be ripped right off my body. Men are shouting, and scravers are shrieking. It sounds like a lot more than three.

Then I can’t focus on anything else.

All I can feel is pain.