Page 26

CHAPTER 26

Elva rolled onto her side and spat the putrid drops of the priest’s blood onto the ground, her belly roiling in disgust at the smell and the taste and the overwhelming wrongness of it.

She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, her gasps loud in the sudden quiet of the camp.

Clochain uniforms outnumbered the plum robes of the priests almost three to one.

They hadn’t stood a chance.

Fyn slumped into a heap next to her, his jagged breathing echoing her own, eyes flat as he surveyed the dead.

She didn’t know where Lonn was, whether he was still alive.

‘I’ve never seen anything like that,’ Fyn said.

She snorted.

The situation was the opposite of funny, and yet she couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘They weren’t well trained.

Left themselves open, took the bait we offered,’ he said.

‘I guess you don’t need to be well trained when you can become.

.

.

’ She made an opening movement with her hands, and Fyn nodded.

‘Do you think they’re demigods?

’

He shook his head, wincing at some unseen injury.

‘If they are, I’ve never seen one Evert like that before.

’

She went to rub her eyes, blanching when she saw how much blood coated her hands.

She wiped them over her pants, but her clothes were so soaked it didn’t do anything.

She palmed the fabric again, trying to rid the blood but managed to coat more of the viscous liquid onto her skin.

She ignored the sensation of burning travelling up her arms and wiped again, and again.

The tingling grew, morphing from a light burn into a searing pain so quickly her vision started bursting with firelights.

‘Fyn,’ she said, trying to keep the edge of panic out of her voice.

He turned to her, eyes darting around the campsite in worry.

She wiped at her hands again, her neck, her face.

She was covered in the stuff, and under the coating she could feel welts starting to blister.

‘The blood. There’s something in their blood,’ she said, raising her hands to show him.

The burning sensation kept growing, and panic was making her thoughts stutter.

He scrambled upright and took a step towards her but Elva backed away, noting he only had a few splattered drops on his shirt.

She looked around the camp, trying to find somewhere she could clean herself.

Her body was burning and if she didn’t get this off she was going to die, Oh, gods—

She sprinted to the river, desperate to wash away the scorching heat on her skin.

She didn’t pause to take off her clothing or boots, just bolted straight into the watery depths.

The river took her breath away, but the icy current immediately helped to dull the blistering pain.

She threw herself under, the freezing water sending shivers racing along her spine.

Gasping, she scrubbed at her face and ears, trying to remove all traces of the blood, but it was tacky and had started crusting to her skin in chunks.

Holy shit – she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, she was entirely consumed with feeling.

A splash sounded next to her as Fyn stepped into the shallows.

He washed his hands in the stream, wiping away a couple of dots of blood and then unbuttoned his shirt.

He pulled the fabric over his head, revealing the sculpted lines of his torso, dark hair trailing across his chest and down his abs.

If she had thought his shoulders were broad with clothing, they were nothing compared to the reality of the muscle that dipped and curved without.

Was she hallucinating?

Why did he look so good when she was dying?

Was this the Ending?

Where was the bridge?

She groaned, trying to calm the feeling of being flayed alive when he plunged the shirt into the river and lifted her face gently, his fingers softly cupping her chin.

Using his shirt, he wiped away the blood and gore around her eyes, her cheeks.

She hissed when the scrape of fabric touched a welt, and Fyn murmured something soft.

She tried to listen to his words, but the swell of pain kept growing and it took all her attention to try and prevent it from sinking its claws into her soul.

He continued murmuring as he wiped, until the overwhelming pain faded and the river flowed red around them.

Relief eased her tense shoulders, but the feeling was short-lived.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

She went to respond but her mouth didn’t move.

She tried again, but her teeth were chattering from the cold and she couldn’t manage the words.

She nodded, tempted to lean into his warmth.

Fyn raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead he extended his hand to help her to her feet.

She tried to grab his outstretched palm, but her arm wouldn’t move the way she intended.

She frowned and tried again, her grip faltering.

She stared at her hand.

Why was it blue?

Fyn leaned down, his eyes searching her face.

Her thoughts were sluggish.

Why was she in the river?

A breeze brushed her skin, and a whole-body shiver swept through her.

She was cold.

Really cold .

She looked at Fyn.

He’d been smart enough not to dunk his entire body under the water, but his feet and pants were soaked and goosebumps dotted his torso.

Her eyes drifted to his abs but her view was broken when he hauled her to her feet.

‘H-hey,’ she tried to say, stumbling out of his grip.

The lip of the river was only as high as her knee, but her muscles locked and she tipped to one side, falling directly onto him.

‘You’re freezing,’ he said, scooping her out of the river with ease and placing her upright.

‘N-no sh-sh-shit,’ she said, or tried to say but her teeth were chattering so hard it was barely audible.

She looked around the campsite; the fire was doused and there was no sign of Lonn.

The priests’ horses had bolted in the chaos, and their own were back on the main road, a good thirty-minute walk away.

Fear broke through her foggy haze, because if she didn’t warm up soon, she might very well cross the Bridge of Endings.

She met Fyn’s gaze, wondering if he had come to the same conclusion.

‘I know a place,’ he said after a minute.

She tried to laugh at the absurdity of the statement, but it came out as a wheeze.

‘H-h-how do you kn-know a place in the m-middle of n-nowhere?’ she asked.

He smiled, or was it a grimace?

She could barely see straight her teeth were chattering so hard.

He started walking down a small path next to the river, so she swallowed her huff and began trailing after him, actions jerky as her muscles contracted in chills.

‘H-h-how far do we need to g-go?’ she mumbled.

Her wet clothing clung to her, chafing against the welts.

‘Not far. This campsite is strategically placed.’

‘P-p-placed to w-what?’ she asked as her foot caught on a root and sent her sprawling.

Fyn’s curse echoed above her as he ran over.

She scowled, forcing the kernel of humiliation threatening to sprout at bay.

She’d saved Fyn’s damn life and helped kill three priests.

Why was she embarrassed?

Fyn reached down to help her up, his big hands engulfing her own.

‘D-d-did it not b-burn you?’ she asked, gripping his hands to try and find the welts.

His forearms flexed under her probing, but she could only see the old ones from the fire.

Fire?

She looked at her own hands, her thoughts making absolutely no sense.

‘Hey, it’s okay.

I did get burned, I just wasn’t covered in blood,’ he said, pulling her upright.

None of her muscles responded to her commands, and Fyn’s expression darkened.

‘Don’t get mad but I’m going to carry you before you die of hypothermia, okay?

’

He picked her up in one swift movement, her protests dying when she felt the heat of his body.

If she was going to her Ending then it may as well be in the arms of a man whose bulk she could feel through her wet armour.

She’d slept with men before, but the thought of being attracted to her future husband was – wait , was she actually attracted to him, or was she just dying?

She giggled.

Gods, what would it mean if—

‘We’re here,’ Fyn said, breaking her thoughts.

She pulled her head from his chest and looked around.

To her right the glacial river flowed, its blue waters spiralling through the forest.

Trees lined the bank, and tall grasses sprouted between the cracks of lichen-covered boulders.

Before them was a stone rockpool, its waters cloudy.

It was shaped like a kidney bean and the two ends bulged out, large enough to fit a single person in each.

Steam rose from the waters, and when Elva breathed in she smelled something.

.

.

off.

She turned to look at Fyn, nose wrinkled, fantasies dashed.

‘I thought you were t-t-trying to help, not s-suffocate me?’

He looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief and huffed an exasperated laugh.

‘It’s the sulphur.

’

‘S-sulphur?’

‘From the hot spring,’ he said, nodding to the pool.

Elva’s eyes widened as she turned and looked at the water with renewed interest.

‘It’s h-hot?

’ she asked.

Fyn nodded.

Before he could say anything else, she wriggled out of his grasp and staggered to the edge of the pool.

Steam rose in wafts, twisting in the breeze before disappearing into the view beyond.

She kicked off her boots and tore off her armour, groaning in relief when the shirt came off next, her tender skin finally rid of the chafing fabric.

She reached a hand around to scratch her itchy back.

Why was she itchy again?

Oh, the blood.

She giggled.

Itchy blood.

Weird.

She shrugged off her pants, barely noticing Fyn cough behind her as she stumbled forwards and threw herself into the hot spring.

She hissed as the water encompassed her, pleasure and pain mingling together as pinpricks raced along her skin.

Her hands and feet were blocks of ice, and their swollen mass ached as the warmth began thawing them.

She wanted to laugh and cry, and to never, ever leave.

‘Oh, my g-g-gods,’ she groaned as she sank up to her neck and stretched her legs out.

It was too small for her to outstretch completely, but it was better than most baths, and just as deep.

‘What is this and can I s-stay here forever?’ she sighed into the water.

At the clank of metal she watched as Fyn dropped his sword onto the grass, hands hesitating as they unbuckled his belt.

Under other circumstances she might have found his hesitation endearing, but if he was feeling even a fraction of the cold she had, he didn’t have time to be shy.

Yeah, that’s why you’re looking .

Neve snickered.

‘Stop being so godsdamn p-proper all the time, Fyn. Bodies are normal. Hurry up and get in before you f-freeze to death,’ she said.

He looked up, meeting her gaze.

She gave him her coyest smile to try and lure him, but his eyes darkened and she wondered just how bad she must look to get that kind of glower.

She wished she had the energy to sass him for his prudishness, but the ache of her body was too consuming for her to make a scene, so she averted her gaze with only the smallest amount of dismay.

He kicked off his boots, yet she couldn’t help but peek when his head was bent, the V of his abs guiding her eyes to the crowning jewels – which she couldn’t see because he was still wearing pants.

Why was he still wearing pants?

She looked up to find his eyes on her, his expression warring between exasperation and embarrassment, a flicker of silver dancing in his eyes.

‘What?’ she asked impatiently and gestured for him to continue.

His laughter startled her, and she grinned, wincing immediately.

Her cheek muscles were tight from the cold, and she sank deeper, dunking her head under the surface, moaning as the hot water thawed her face.

She let out a breath of bubbles.

They tickled her face, the sensation at odds with the tender welts.

She laughed, high on heat.

If she didn’t pull herself together soon, she was going to make some very questionable decisions.