Page 9 of Scorched Earth

A cold wind blew over Lydia. She shivered, taking in the shattered remains of the cottage spread across the empty hillock, the only evidence of the battle between the Six and their dark brother.

That, and the absence of the wild hunger that had consumed her heart.

Except in its place, a riot of emotion was threatening to drown her as she struggled to come to terms with what she’d said. What she’d done. What she hadbecome.

Drawing in a ragged breath, Lydia twisted on her knees to look up at Killian. His dark hair clung to the side of his face, olive skin smeared with dirt. “I am so sorry,” she croaked. “Killian, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry. So—”

He pulled her against him, silencing her rush of words. “Do not apologize.” His breath was warm against her ear. “It’s not your fault. Everything you did was because the Corrupter had his claws dug into you, so the blame is his.”

Lydia desperately wanted to believe him. But that would require lying to herself.

She’d made the choice to open the door to the Seventh god for the sake of the strength that it would give her, which meant she was responsible. She was to blame. Every time Lydia blinked, she saw the carnage that had been left in her wake when she had gone down into the dungeons in Helatha. With every breath she took, she remembered the flow of life that had flooded into her as she’d drained men and women to dust. With every heartbeat, she remembered trying over and over to do the same to Killian. The words that flowed from her tongue had been evil and spiteful but still very much her own, because a large part of her wanted to keep the power that came from the dark side of her mark. In the moment, she’d resented Killian and Hegeria for forcing her to give it up.

The Corrupter’s claws had been pulled free of her, but the door back to him was still there. Still tempting Lydia with all that lay beyond, her fingers reaching for the handle as her eyes focused on the rich glow of life surrounding Killian, the press of his skin against hers making her ache with the need totake.

With a start, Lydia wrenched out of his grip, then pressed her fingers into the mud. “I… I can’t,” she whispered, knowing that it was no explanation. “Please don’t touch me.”

“Lydia?”

Sensing him reaching for her, Lydia cringed away. “I’ll hurt you.”

“Not anymore, you won’t,” Killian replied. “Hegeria broke his hold on you.”

Her eyes stung with shame and grief, no part of her wanting to confess the truth, but neither was she willing to risk him by lying. “She broke his hold, but they couldn’t take away the part of me that opened the door to him in the first place.”

Killian didn’t answer, and though cowardice pleaded she look anywhere but at him, Lydia forced herself to lift her head. He was sitting in the dirt next to her, elbows resting on his knees, brown eyes on the sword Tremon had given him. His father’s sword. A line of blood ran down his stubbled cheek from where he’d been cut during the explosion, and his hands were marked with scrapes and bruises from escaping Rufina. No doubt he had worse beneath his clothes.Yet rather than feeling compelled to take off his shirt and heal him, all Lydia saw was the rich glow of life made sweeter by his mark. All she felt was the desire to take it, to feel the flood of ecstasy as his life bolstered hers, making her strong. Her heartbeat accelerated, her breath turning to rapid little pants, and it took far too long for her to notice that he was watching her, dark eyes grim.

“I heard what Hegeria said.” His voice matched his eyes. “There is darkness in everyone. But if it were impossible to control, the Seventh wouldn’t be warring against us. He’d have already won.”

“It’s more difficult for me,” Lydia snapped, irrationally angry that he thought it was so easy. That he thought she was like him, never straying from the right path.

“The Six stepped onto the mortal plane to give you back your freedom to choose what to do with your power, Lydia.” Killian climbed to his feet. “Don’t squander it.”

There was little she could say in response. Lydia stood, straightening her clothes and looking anywhere but at him.

“There is little chance that Rufina’s scouts aren’t aware we’re here, and I suspect they will arrive soon enough. We need to go.” He started down the hillock to where the boat was pulled up on the ground. “Hegeria said that our companions are on the run south, which must mean that Agrippa and Baird successfully got away with Malahi. We need to find them and get out of Derin.”

“How are we going to do that?” she asked. “It will be like finding a needle in a haystack, never mind that Rufina is hunting for the same needle. Aren’t we better off making our own way?”

“We came here to rescue Malahi because we need a tender to drive back the blight. All of this, all that we have endured, has been to achieve that goal.” When she was silent, he added, “Are you really willing to leave her with Agrippa? For all he seems to have turned on Rufina, I haven’t forgotten that he once led her armies. Nor that he was once part of the Cel army that holds Teriana prisoner while they conquer Arinoquia. The only thing I trust about that man is that he’ll look out for himself first. We need to get Malahi away from him before he sells her to the highest bidder.”

Shame filled Lydia, for though he was right that Malahi had always been the priority, she’d not spared one thought for the fate of Mudamora’s queen since learning that Agrippa and Baird had spirited her out of Helatha. Her every thought had been for rescuing Killian from Rufina’s dungeons, and since then, her every thought had been for herself. “South, then?”

“Into Anukastre. That has to be Agrippa’s plan.”

“But isn’t Anukastre a death trap?” She climbed into the boat. “Why would he go there?”

From what she knew, the nation that shared a border with both Derin and Mudamora was a desert that almost never saw rain. But worse still were the Anuk themselves—nomads who were uniquely capable of surviving in the wasteland’s extreme conditions and who were notoriously willing to slaughter anyone who crossed into their lands. They raided Mudamora almost constantly, their favored target the Rowenes gold mines along the border. Gold mines that Killian had spent months defending in violent conflict, which had earned him a name among the Anuk, most especially with Xadrian, the Crown Prince of Anukastre.

Unbidden, the memory of being trapped with Killian on a boulder in the middle of a flash flood of debris filled her mind’s eye. Of standing between the Anuk’s deadly storm of arrows and Killian, Xadrian screaming at his men not to shoot, lest Killian pull Lydia down with him. The Anuk wouldn’t hurt her because she was marked by Hegeria, but they’d be more than delighted to take revenge against Killian.

“Agrippa will go into the desert because there’s no other choice,” Killian said, interrupting her thoughts. “There are only so many ways in and out of Derin and they will all be watched. My guess is that Agrippa is banking on Rufina’s belief that the border with the sand kingdom guards itself.”

Lydia nodded, mostly because she didn’t believe Hegeria would lead them astray. “That doesn’t explain howweare going to find them. The border is large, and once they reach the desert itself…”

“First we get out of this swamp and find horses and supplies,” Killian answered. “Then we worry about finding them.”

There was a clipped tone to his voice that suggested he wished the conversation to be over, and Lydia’s tongue fell silent even as her imagination went wild as to what was going on in Killian’s mind.