Page 31

KYRIE

“I can’t come with you. ” Han’s mental voice is full of regret.

My eyes water, whether from the air whipping around me or the certainty of my fate, I don’t know.

“I know,” I tell him. His concern wraps around me like a cocoon.

I’ve dulled the mate bond as best I can, pushing it down and locking it up in a mental box.

Still, I feel Arek’s anger and pain, his outrage and sorrow, and it makes my stomach twist.

This was the cost of making me immortal.

This is the cost of my happiness.

Tarron’s worth every drop of blood in my body.

I have lived.

He deserves the same chance.

“You have grown since I chose you, golden tongue,” Han remarks aloud, and I’m too anxious to think of a smart retort, so I stay quiet.

“Your gifts are all your own,” he continues, the wind from his wings beating around me. “But I think it’s time I give you something, as a token of our time together.”

We’ve hardly spent any time together, and my time is up, but who am I to argue?

I’m not sure I could argue with a dragon anyways.

Heat suffuses me, warming even the tips of my fingers.

Well, that’s nice.

At least I won’t die cold.

“I will drop you at the edge of their camp. Then, you’re on your own.”

I nod tersely, then remember he can’t see me.

“Fate will have her way with us all, Kyrie Golden Tongue.”

My eyes widen as we break through the mist of the cloud he’s been flying in, the ground screaming up towards me.

Too fast, holy shit, too fast.

I curl my legs up into my body, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, knowing that impact is going to hurt.

Any second now.

I crack open one eye just as Han’s wings level out, flicking wide. He glides through the air, slowing down just as I spot smoke from many campfires.

“ Now, little golden tongue ,” he says, the words pressing against my mind.

With that, his talons open, and I curse as I fall again.

Impact sends a shockwave through my legs, and I dive forward, tucking into a ball and rolling to avoid the worst of it. It’s one of the few tricks the handmaidens of Sola taught me that I’m thankful for.

Still, my body aches from falling, and one of my ankles is definitely worse for wear.

Not like a few minor scrapes and bruises will matter for much longer.

I set my shoulders, making for the encampment half-hidden by a rocky cliffside. There aren’t many tents, not that I can see.

Either we’ve sorely overestimated the amount of troops Sola has at her beck and call, or there is some sort of magic here, concealing them from view.

I don’t like it.

The further I get from Arek, the heavier my heart feels in my chest.

Every step takes me closer to saving Tarron, though, and that’s the thought that sustains me when my ankle begins to ache even worse.

I need to get to Tarron.

I can’t let Tarron get hurt.

I know what I need to do to make sure that happens.

A grim smile stretches my lips.

It’s a shit plan, and it depends wholly on the goddess of lies trusting me.

But… it just so happens that I’m a truly gifted liar.

* * *

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time I make it to the camp. The smell of fires and hastily cooked meals is the first sign I’ve made it, and the second is the feel of a blade cutting into the soft skin of my neck.

“My, my, look what the griffin dragged in.” A silky voice accompanies the knife.

I blink, and my stomach drops as the illusion of distance disappears.

I’m in the middle of their camp, and the owner of that voice stands right in front of me, a small, smug smile on her lips.

White gold hair trails down her shoulders, her skin glowing faintly, a nimbus of power surrounding her.

She’s breath-taking, so beautiful to look at that I’m momentarily stunned by what I’m seeing.

But it’s too sharp, too symmetrical, a cruel slant to her eyes and mouth that give her away.

I drop to my knees, prostrating myself before her.

“Sola,” I say, putting my entire self into my performance. “Thank the gods, well, you, that you’re here. Finally.”

I don’t dare glance up, but dainty silk slippers step closer, the richly embroidered hem of her gown dragging along the ground as she nears.

“The traitorous apostle returns,” Sola breathes. “What a fascinating twist of fate.”

The knife digs into my throat, and I keep my mind blank, empty, as I soak what I’m saying with as much power as I dare to without drawing notice.

“I heard you need a powerful blood sacrifice to ensure the order’s way of life survives.” The truth shimmers around me, and several of the nearby priestesses flinch. The blade cuts into the delicate skin at my throat.

I gnash my teeth, summoning as much anger as I can, remembering the feeling of betrayal as the Sword’s knife split my chest open.

Sola stops walking, and her handmaidens fall silent.

“I’ve come to sacrifice myself instead of the Fae boy you stole, and to beg you for vengeance on the hand that took my life.” Another truth. I bite my lip as a drop of my blood splats against the rocky ground.

“She does not lie, goddess,” the priestess behind me intones.

The urge to roll my eyes is so strong that I end up squinting at Sola’s shoes to stop myself from doing it.

Even I know there is a time for snark and sass, and this? This is definitely not one of those times.

Besides, I need them to focus on the truths in my words.

Even if they aren’t the truths they think they are.