Page 23

CHAPTER 23

Elva woke with a start when something moved beside her, reaching for her knife before she remembered it had been lost in the mayhem of the fire.

She sat bolt upright, ready to start swinging when Avi rolled over.

She sighed, dropping her head into her hands.

There was soft light coming through the tent, which meant she’d only been asleep for a few hours.

She felt like shit.

After leaving Fyn, she’d entered the medical tent and waited for Avi to be discharged.

She’d had the burns on her palms dressed with a green, earthy poultice, and wasn’t sure if her vision was swimming from exhaustion or the pain-numbing tonic they’d given her.

Avi was even worse.

A building had collapsed on him during the fire and, while he’d managed to escape, there was a gash up his leg that was going to be with him for a while.

They were delirious as they attempted to find her tent in the chaos of the emergency camp, but when they’d passed the same campfire three times with no luck, Elva had insisted they find the nearest empty tent and sleep.

Avi had protested, spouting propriety and decorum and respectability, but when he’d started calling her Ever instead of Elva, she’d stopped listening to him.

They were beyond exhausted, and sharing a tent wouldn’t kill either of them.

She’d lost count how many times she’d crashed in various states with the warriors.

A tent was a tent, and in the mayhem of everything, well, who was going to care?

She reached down and grabbed the blanket, pulling it above her shoulders before nestling into Avi’s back.

She told herself it was for his warmth, but she knew it was because she wanted human contact.

She felt so alone as memories of the three-pronged star floated through her mind.

Nine people in Anfa had been needlessly slaughtered because of her orders, her best friend among them.

It didn’t matter how many times Remi and Myrra told her otherwise, Neve had died on her watch.

It was her responsibility.

She closed her eyes to try and stop the memory of Neve’s last words echoing in her head: You’re going to regret that call.

Like always, Neve had been right.

Unable to lie still anymore, she crawled out of the tent, careful not to wake Avi.

The mist of the morning muffled the snaps and pops of the nearest campfire, and she was grateful for the normality it offered.

People bustled around the medical tent, but there was a hush to it all.

She didn’t want to think about how many people had died last night.

She spotted Oriann at a nearby campfire, and walked over to join her.

‘Morning, El – Your Highness,’ Oriann said, cutting herself off as a soldier walked past.

‘I trust you slept well?’

Elva stretched her hands out in front of her, a pang of belated guilt seeping into her cold fingers as she fumbled over her next words.

‘I’m sorry for keeping Avi from you last night.

I wasn’t able to find my tent in the mayhem—’

Her words were cut off by Oriann’s lilting chuckle.

‘Don’t worry about it.

Avi and I are friends.

’

‘Right.’ Scepticism laced Elva’s words.

Oriann grinned.

‘I promise it’s nothing more than that.

We keep an eye out for each other, but that has and always will come second to our duty.

’

‘That doesn’t mean I’m not sorry.

’

‘You’re forgiven,’ Oriann said with a smirk.

Her words loosened a knot in Elva’s stomach, and she smiled.

‘Your Highness?’

Elva’s gaze snapped from Oriann to see Fyn’s second approaching.

‘Captain Fynton would like to see you, Your Highness,’ he said.

Elva nodded to Oriann then left the warmth of the fire, following the man through the circular maze of the camp until she stood in a big canvas tent, large enough to fit a dozen men.

A table was set in the middle, with a map weighed down by rocks and knives.

Fyn stood at one end, leaning over the map, staring at it so intently she wondered if it might burst into flame.

‘How’d you sleep?

’ Fyn asked, focusing on the map.

‘Fine,’ Elva said, walking towards the table.

The tip of a knife was wedged into the town called Ard, but there were several other markers she didn’t recognise.

‘Lonn couldn’t find you in your tent,’ Fyn said, nodding towards the lieutenant.

She turned and looked Lonn up and down.

He had cropped black hair and a chest the size of a barrel.

‘He seemed to find me okay,’ she said.

The soldier turned his head to face her and smiled tightly, giving away nothing.

She sighed and turned back to Fyn.

‘I don’t know where I slept.

After the medics patched us up we crashed in an empty tent.

’

‘You and Lady Oriann?’

She winced.

Lonn looked at his feet, and Fyn’s eyes slowly became hard.

Too little too late, she realised she should have just agreed.

‘I understand things are different in Vettona, but to have my betrothed sleeping with one of my soldiers is not something I thought I’d have to deal with in the aftermath of yesterday,’ Fyn said.

Elva couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, the sound at odds with the tension in the room.

‘Have some sense, Fyn. I couldn’t find my tent and was about to pass out after everything, so Avi and I crashed.

That’s it.

You should be glad he was still acting as my guard after the spill he took,’ she said, moving around the table to look at the map from a different angle.

She could see Fyn wrestling with her words, and as much as it chafed her to even have this conversation, she supposed his response was.

.

.

expected.

Misguided and traditional, but expected .

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, and Elva looked up to find his eyes on her hands, where bandages wrapped across her palms.

‘I’m fine, just tired.

I only got a couple of hours’ rest,’ she said, tucking her hands in the loose pockets of her pants and nodding at his own bandaged wrists.

‘How about you?’

‘I’m fine.

’

She rolled her eyes.

If they were going back to their normal routine, she had better things to do with her time.

She looked back at the map; there was a tally count in the corner.

‘How many did we lose?’ she asked, directing her question at Lonn.

‘A couple, Your Highness—’

‘It’s Elva,’ she interrupted, waving for him to continue.

Lonn flicked his eyes to Fyn, who frowned.

‘Uh, Highness Elva. We lost one in the fire, and one of the villagers you rescued passed in the night from an injury to the head,’ Lonn said.

Elva nodded, an empty echo resonating in her chest at the news.

‘This is in addition to the nine bodies found in the star?’

Lonn nodded, glancing at Fyn again.

She stared at the map in front of her, trying to fit the pieces of this nonsensical jigsaw together.

Her thoughts combed over every angle but she had no more answers than she’d had at Anfa: nine bodies found dead in some sort of ritual.

After a moment’s silence she looked up to find the men staring at her.

‘What?’

Lonn frowned but said nothing, so she turned her attention to Fyn.

‘You knew it was a star,’ he said.

Ah, that.

She nodded.

‘How?’

She had known this was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier.

She opened her mouth and forced herself to speak.

‘It happened about a year ago. My second got word that you – I mean, Clochain – had sent a unit into Anfa to attack. It made some sense, but something about it didn’t sit right with me, so instead of acting on it, I sent the bulk of our forces to the outpost of Thyne, where a troop of Clochain’s military was waiting for us.

’ She shook her head, forcing the flashbacks away.

‘We managed to drive your forces out, and when the garrison was secure I rode to Anfa to check on my second who had been stationed there but I... I found a scene similar to what we saw yesterday. We were too late to catch the trail and we never found out who was behind it. Our best guess was a sick attack from Clochain.’

‘Why would we do that?’ Lonn asked.

‘Are you seriously asking me why Clochain would attack Vettona?’

He opened his mouth to respond but Fyn cut him off with a look.

‘Was it a sacrifice to the Seacht?’ Fyn asked.

She stared at Lonn for an extra beat before turning back to Fyn.

‘I don’t know.

We lost all evidence in a fire.

’

She edged closer to the map, where Fyn was circling the township of Anfa with a piece of chalk.

As the crow flies, the distance between Anfa and Mount Ard wasn’t great, but on foot there was a glacial river to navigate and the foothills of the mountains.

It would take weeks if the weather was good; months if it was bad.

‘Were they real priests?’ she asked.

‘Or people just dressed as priests?’

Neither Fyn nor Lonn said anything, and she sighed in frustration.

Voices sounded from outside, loud enough that Elva could hear the urgent tone and Fyn nodded to Lonn, a silent conversation flowing between the two before the lieutenant strode out of the tent.

‘Whatever’s happening, I’m in.

’

‘Elva—’

‘I actually don’t care what you’re about to say.

My best friend died in the Anfa massacre, and this is the closest I’ve come to following a lead, so the whole thing would be much easier if you just nodded and said, “Yes, Elva.”’

He stared at her.

‘Yes, Elva.’

‘Really?’

‘Can’t you take the win?

’ Fyn replied, spreading his palms wide.

She should.

She’d just got what she wanted but – ‘Why?’ Her eyes raked over him, as if she might be able to sense the trap.

He took a big breath and let it out slowly, as if this were a conversation he wished he could escape.

She waited patiently.

‘Not all of us believe that women are incapable of fighting. The king might not think women can be soldiers, but I do. We’d be fools not to acknowledge you’re an asset to this fight.

’

She couldn’t help the small part of her chest that warmed at his words.

Gods, she needed more sleep.

Rubbing her face, she gestured to the map.

‘You found the trail?’

He nodded, but didn’t say anything more.

The reckless streak inside of her wanted to push her advantage, but in doing so she might very well come up against his monosyllabic answers again.

Fyn seemed to see right through her, exasperation dancing on his brow.

‘If you uninvite me, I’m just going to follow,’ she said.

He looked at her, surprised, then chuckled.

Some of the strain from the last twenty-four hours melted, the sharp edges of pain fading to a dull ache.

He moved around the table and leaned against its edge, crossing his arms over his broad chest, a comfortable quiet falling between them.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked.

She cocked her head to one side, weighing her words carefully.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

He sighed.

She sighed.

They were at a stalemate, but it was a comfortable one.

She remained quiet, adjusting to the ease of his proximity.

‘I don’t know where to begin,’ she finally said.

‘That’s a feeling I know all too well.

’ The corners of his eyes crinkled in faint amusement.

‘If I tell you, there’s no going back,’ she said quietly.

Self-preservation thrummed, but if they had any chance at all of being allies, honesty would be needed on both sides.

His throat bobbed, but he gave her a short, shallow nod.

‘I’m Ever Blessed,’ she whispered, choosing to start at the beginning.

‘It’s small enough that it doesn’t usually cause any problems, save for the fact that it’s there in the first place.

’

Fyn closed his eyes, and she squashed the part of her that wanted to take his face and force him to meet her gaze.

‘I’ve had it since I can remember, but I’ve never told anyone about it before, because no one has ever sensed it like you did.

Usually I’m the one turning a blind eye to people’s ability.

’ He blinked, and when he opened his eyes she could see a small flicker of light in his irises.

‘Your turn.’

‘It only started a year ago for me, after...’ He paused, took a breath.

‘After the sylph attack, my mother was killed. I went away, claiming I was struck by grief – which was true – it just... wasn’t the whole truth.

’

‘For a while I thought your eyes were a blessing from Caius... but it’s not from Caius, is it?

It’s from the Ever.

’

He nodded.

‘How has no one noticed?’

‘I don’t know.

I can see the silver when I look in the mirror, but everyone else.

.

.

’ He shrugged, palms spread wide.

‘You’re the first.

Maybe you can see it manifest because of your Ever?

’

She didn’t know what to do with that theory, so she filed it away to think on later.

‘And the tug? It feels like my Ever, but also... not?’

Fyn shook his head.

‘The tug feels like when my Ever manifested, which is why I’ve always bolted when it pulled.

Maybe our powers are conduits?

’

‘Is that even a thing?’

He shrugged.

‘I can’t feel your emotions, which makes me think it’s not a twinsoul bond.

It would be a whole lot easier if it was.

’

Elva nodded, pretending she was thinking this through when in reality she was fighting a blush that his words had elicited.

‘I don’t know what any of this means, Elva.

’

‘It’s a mystery to us both, Fyn.

’

‘No one’s ever called me Fyn before.

I prefer it to Fynton,’ he said with a half-smile.

He raked a hand through his hair and nodded to himself.

‘It’s weird to be talking about Ever so openly.

I thought I was going mad: who suddenly becomes Ever Blessed when they’re thirty?

It’s meant to manifest in children, but for me it just appeared overnight.

.

.

Like a spiderweb I can feel in the back of my mind at all times, trying to find a way out.

And then you showed up with the painful tug and my whole reality started fracturing.

’

‘Does anyone else know?’

‘No, if my father finds out...’ He closed his eyes and exhaled.

‘He’ll either kill me outright or offer me to the Seacht as a sacrifice.

’

Running footsteps made them both turn towards the tent door where Lonn burst through.

‘The priests are on the move.’

‘What’s their lead time?

’ she asked, her mind switching into battle calm in an instant.

Lonn raised a questioning brow to Fyn.

When he nodded, the lieutenant turned and spoke directly to her.

‘Not much; I have men readying horses right now.’

‘Saddle two for Elva and me. We’ll be with you shortly,’ Fyn called as Lonn ran back out.

The weight of the situation, the weight of all they had revealed to each other, hung between them and she didn’t know where to put those feelings or what to do with this weird common ground they’d found.

There was no mistaking she was intrigued by Fyn, but she also didn’t know where the hell that left her, especially when memories of Neve were pounding at the proximity of the priests.

She couldn’t let herself get distracted with Fyn when this was the closest she’d come to retribution, to understanding what had happened that awful night.

I’m dead, Elva , Neve’s droll voice reverberated in her head.

Getting distracted won’t change that fact.

If anything, you should live a little.

Do you think his eyes flash silver when he—

Elva huffed, rolling her eyes.

When she looked back, Fyn’s gaze was locked on her face.

She forced Neve’s laughter away as he dipped his chin, shadows dancing over the strong shelf of his brow.

After a second’s hesitation, he handed her one of the knives hanging at his belt.

‘I couldn’t save yours in the fire,’ he said, voice low.

She took the handle of the blade, which was marred with an assortment of scratches.

Pretty , Neve cooed.

It was a working knife, a tool he clearly used all the time as opposed to one worn for decoration, but the design was indeed pretty, the haft etched with a crashing wave.

It was the perfect blade to End the people who had taken Neve.