Page 22

V rok

I wake to silence.

The kind that presses in on all sides like a heavy shroud. It feels unnatural after the storm’s endless roar. My eyes blink open slowly, stinging against the pale light in the cave. Moisture lingers in the air, clinging to my skin, even though the storm has finally passed.

My thoughts are foggy and slow to catch up with my waking body.

The ache in my side flares as I shift. The pain is still sharp, but it’s manageable.

I push myself upright with a grunt, and the cave spins on its axis.

Nausea clogs my throat, and flashes of memory pull me back. Arrows, the rush of the river, poison.

And then, Emily. Always by my side.

I glance beside me, but the spot where she’d been—so close I could feel her warmth—lies empty.

She’s gone.

A cold sweat breaks over my brow, and I scramble to my feet too fast, catching myself on the wall with a hiss. Dread claws at my chest and my heart beats a frantic rhythm in my ears. My vision narrows, then darkens at the edges.

“Emily?” My voice is little more than a rasp, worn ragged by the sickness that’s held me in its grip.

No answer.

The silence seems heavier now, more ominous. I stare at the mouth of the cave, bile rising in my throat until it threatens to choke me.

Did someone take her? The Pugj? Or a sarding Tussoll? Did she leave me here?

No, I immediately discard that possibility. Emily is nothing if not loyal and caring. She wouldn’t. But could she have wandered out into the jungle for some reason and run afoul of one of the beasts on Laedirissae?

Foolish human. Brave, infuriating, precious?—

I stagger to the entrance, gripping the stone for balance as sunlight spills in, blinding me.

The jungle beyond still glistens with condensation from the storm.

Droplets fall from the leaves in a soft, uneven patter.

The air smells clean and fresh as if the storm has washed the world of all its grime and blood, but I know better.

And yet, there’s no sign of Emily. No soft, lyrical voice or sweet, intoxicating scent. No rustle of movement or gentle touch. Just silence. Cold and echoing silence. And the sharp pang of fear twisting in my gut.

She wouldn’t have left me. At least, not without a good reason.

Just as I’m about to step outside to search for her, a flicker of movement at the edge of my vision stops me. Instinct takes over and my hand drops to one of the knives that even now are still strapped to me. My muscles tense, ready to react, until she steps into view.

Emily.

Relief crashes into me like a wave breaking against the rocks, and I sag back against the wall.

Her braid has come loose, and damp strands of her long, golden hair cling to her face. She hasn’t seen me, yet, her focus is on the ground in front of her as she carefully picks her way over the wet ground. Her hands are cupped, cradling something I can’t see.

“Where—” My voice is harsher than I intend. I stop, forcing myself to take a steadying breath before I try again. “Where have you been?”

Emily lifts her head, blinking up at me. For a heartbeat, guilt flashes across her features before she shakes her head and it disappears. “I went to get us something to eat.”

She holds out her hands revealing the berries she’s gathered. They’re a deep, glistening purple, and their scent reaches me even from a distance making my mouth water. Bilb berries. They’re plump with a juicy sweetness that will provide us a much-needed boost of energy.

Still, the image of her venturing into the wild of the jungle alone?—

“You shouldn’t have gone by yourself,” I say, unable to keep the edge from creeping back into my voice this time.

A knot forms in my chest. The thought of her out there, vulnerable, while I lay helpless and useless gnaws at a deep, primal part of me. The need to protect. To claim. To never let her out of my sight again. But I don’t want to acknowledge it, yet. Maybe not ever.

Emily stiffens and her chin lifts in a stubborn jut. “You were in no condition to go, and we needed food.” She steps past me into the cave before kneeling to set the berries on a flat rock. Glancing back at me, she insists, “I was careful.”

“Careful isn’t always enough,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. Sick dread still curls in my gut as I think of what could have happened to her.

Her gaze softens slightly. “I’m fine, Vrok,” she says gently, pulling the tin of salixa gel from one of the satchels. “And so are you. Thanks to this.”

The words strike something raw in me. She’s right. I should be the one protecting her, not the other way around. And yet… Here I stand, alive because of her. Gratitude wells up inside me. It’s an emotion I’m not accustomed to feeling.

“Thank you.” The words feel strange coming out of my mouth, but I know they’re not enough. Not for everything she did for me, but I force them out regardless.

She blinks at me, clearly surprised. Then her features soften even more into something warmer. She sinks down to sit cross-legged across from me.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she murmurs. “I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“No,” I say, meeting her gaze. “But you didn’t have to do all that you did, either.”

Her lips curve in a faint smile and my eyes are drawn to them before I can stop myself. “Maybe not, but I wanted to.”

The sincerity in her voice slides beneath the armor I’ve carried around with me, hitting a place I thought long since hardened. My chest tightens. Not from the lingering effects of the poison, but something else. Something worse. Or maybe better. I don’t know anymore.

I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest as if the gesture can hold everything I’m feeling in.

“Next time, wake me. We’ll go together,” I say quietly.

Emily furrows her eyebrows like she’s about to argue, but then she shakes her head and sighs.

“Deal.” She picks up a handful of berries and offers them to me. Her lips curve into a wry, irresistible smile that draws my gaze again.

I reach out and the moment my fingers brush against hers, something happens.

A jolt shoots through me, sharp and electric, as if a spark has leapt from her skin to mine.

My breath catches and my cock responds instantly, aching with a hunger that has nothing to do with food.

For a heartbeat, I forget the dull throbbing in my side and the weight of everything that’s happened.

Her eyes widen and her breath halts mid-inhale.

She felt it, too.

Clearing my suddenly thick throat, I sit down on the floor of the cave beside her, forcing my limbs into motion as I try to pretend I felt nothing.

The berries are sweet, their juice bursting over my tongue, but the taste is distant, like I’m eating through a fog. I barely notice it. All of my attention is fixed on her. On Emily.

I find myself staring at her mouth. At the way her tongue flicks out to catch a drop of juice from her lips. And I can’t stop myself from wondering if her lips taste as sweet as the berries. Probably sweeter.

My gaze traces over the line of her delicate jaw, the slope of her cheek, and up to her eyes. There’s something flickering in her gray gaze that looks a lot like curiosity as she glances up at me.

We eat in silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels easy and comfortable. The distance between us feels smaller, as if the storm washed away more than just dust and fallen leaves. It’s left something softer in its place.

A subtle charge hums between us, and a fluttering sensation stirs in my chest, so faint I almost miss it. It feels like an insectoid set free inside of me, buzzing softly against my ribs. Could it be my second heart?

No. No, that can’t be right.

I scoff silently to myself, forcing down the absurd thought. Not me . The amoris bond is for better males. Worthier males. Warriors who haven’t been accused of plotting against their own tribe. Not traitors. Not outcasts who have no home.

And yet, I can’t ignore the sensation.

I can’t ignore her .

My gaze lingers on Emily’s soft features and her golden hair that seems to shine even in the dim shadows of the cave, and I find myself wondering about the words left unsaid between us.

She’s done so much for me. More than anyone ever has. She cared for me without hesitation, without asking anything in return. She stayed when she could have left. But more than that, she’s never once asked if I’m guilty. If I truly betrayed my tribe and my people.

I don’t know why it matters so much, but it suddenly does. I should be relieved she hasn’t asked if I’m guilty. Sard, I’ve had enough eyes on me, filled with accusation and disgust. I should be glad she hasn’t looked at me that way.

But the absence of the question hangs in the air like smoke after a fire, impossible to ignore. I can’t let it go. It gnaws at me, forming a new wound deep inside my chest where that strange fluttering sensation was. It’s gone now, and in its place is an aching stillness.

I glance at her, the words building inside me until they burn inside my throat and I can’t hold them back.

“You haven’t asked me,” I say, my voice rough and low.

As I meet her gaze, I feel vulnerable in a way I’ve never felt before. In a way that makes me itch beneath my skin.

She tilts her head. “Asked you what?”

“If I’m guilty of what they say I did,” I say flatly. “If I betrayed my tribe.”

There. It's out.

The words drop between us like an anuroi landing in the middle of a clearing, and I brace for it—for her to flinch, to pull away, to look at me differently. I’ve seen that look before.

She watches me in silence, and for a heartbeat, I wonder if she’ll pretend she didn’t hear me.

My pulse pounds in my ears so loudly it sounds like two heartbeats.

I want to retreat into the dark shadows at the back of the cave where it's safe. Away from her searching gaze. Away from the disgust I know she’ll feel for me.

But then she speaks, and I can’t tear my gaze from her.

“Will you tell me what happened, and let me decide for myself?” There’s no judgement in her voice. No fear. Just a simple request.

The words hang between us, and for a heartbeat, I’m tempted to say nothing.

I could change the subject, bury it like I’ve buried everything else.

But something shifts in me then. Something in the way she’s looking at me makes the weight of my silence unbearable.

I don’t want to carry these secrets anymore. The weight of who I’ve become.

She deserves the truth. Even if it destroys whatever fragile connection has begun to grow between us. Even if it means watching her face twist with disgust. Even if it breaks me.

I lean forward and meet her gaze. The words rise from somewhere deep, scraping their way out, raw and jagged.

“I’m a traitor.”