Page 25 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

The next time Aya saw the sun, it wasn’t the harsh light she’d grown used to in the cell with the iron table. It was soft and gentle against her face, a warm caress that she could feel dancing across the crown of her head.

She cringed away from it regardless, her body bracing for the pain she knew was coming.

Except…

There were no chains.

No table.

No cell.

A gentle breeze blew across her cheeks, and it took Aya a moment to realize she was standing outside.

No, not just outside. She was on the Wall of Dunmeaden, the fields stretching into the city below her, the mouth of the Anath a distant speck against the harbor and horizon.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

Aya’s heart seized at that voice. She jerked her head to the left, her eyes taking in his raven hair, tanned skin, gray eyes, bright smile.

Will.

Aya reached for him, but she paused as she took in the smooth skin of her palm.

No oath to the Dyminara, no oath to the man beside her.

Not yet a man, she realized on second glance. Will looked younger, the bags under his eyes not yet a permanent marker on his skin. His brow was smooth, his grin easy as he shielded the sun from his eyes with his hand.

She felt like she had forgotten something—something important.

Why had she expected pain? Why had she thought she was anywhere other than where she was? She blinked, her mind straining to recall the thoughts she’d just had—dark ones, fearful ones, broken ones—but they slipped from her grasp like dreams unremembered.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Will asked slowly.

Aya tilted her head, her eyes tracing over his features. “Like what?”

The right corner twisted into his telltale smirk. “Like you don’t trust me.”

“I—”

His hand darted out and grabbed her shin. Aya tensed, but Will chuckled, the sound light and warm and like a balm to some thing stirring in her chest that she did not understand.

“Relax, love,” Will laughed. “I’m not going to let you fall.”

Fall.

Aya frowned as the word echoed in her mind. She wasn’t sure why she expected to find bitterness in his voice or a haunted look in his eyes.

But…someone had fallen here. Hadn’t they? Wasn’t that why her stomach was clenched with dread, why she swore she heard the echoes of screams in the recesses of her mind? Someone had…

Will’s fingers flexed on her leg, and he gave a gentle tug. “Sit with me,” he murmured, drawing her back into the present.

Slowly, she lowered herself beside him. Her boots scuffed against the stone as she swung her legs over the ledge. “No strutting across the Wall today?” she asked as she peered down, swallowing at the drop.

Will’s laugh was loud and bright, and something in her chest lightened at the mere sound of it.

“I don’t strut ,” he insisted as he leaned back on his palms.

“How else would you describe how you walk around training?”

Will’s brows flicked toward his hairline. “Training? A term far better suited for a warrior than a merchant’s apprentice, surely. But you always do flatter me.”

Something tugged in Aya’s stomach, a thread pulling taut as she frowned. Will cocked his head, his hair messy and glinting in the sunlight. “Are you sure you’re alright, Aya love?” He straightened, his palm smooth against her skin as he cupped her cheek. “Shall I take you home?”

Home. Her mind went hazy with the word, the world around them fading as visions appeared through the fog in her brain.

Her father bent over the sink in the kitchen. Her mother sitting at the rickety table, a loaf of bread before her.

Aya blinked, her gaze focusing on the ships dotting the waters of the harbor. “My mother will be at home.”

It wasn’t a question, but Will answered anyway. “I assume so. She was this morning.”

This morning…

Another vision. Or was it a memory?

Tova chattering on animatedly as they walked through the Artist Market together, searching for a painting for Caleigh’s birthday.

Will’s hand slid to her chin, his thumb pressing in as he turned her head to face him. “Is that a problem? You said your mother liked me.”

She would. Eliza would love Will for no other reason than because Aya did.

Aya shook her head, fighting against the muddled thoughts in her head.

Another memory: her mother kissing her cheek before Aya left for the day.

It hadn’t been a dream?

“She does,” Aya finally answered.

Will wound an arm around her waist, tucking her into his side. “I cannot say that I blame her.”

Aya laughed. “Gods, you’re so—”

“Charming? Delectably handsome?”

“Conceited.”

“You wound me.”

“You’ll survive.”

Will ducked his head, his lips warm as they pressed against the hinge of her jaw. “On the contrary, Aya love. I think you’ll be the death of me.”

That thread pulled taut again, and her mind sharpened for a breath—like a pulse of lightning that illuminated her surroundings.

Not right. This is not right.

But Will tightened his hold, and the breeze blew in from the harbor, and the sun was warm on her cheeks, and suddenly, Aya couldn’t be bothered to remember what she had just forgotten.

She was here, with Will pressed against her side, his arm a welcome weight that kept her tethered to bliss. She sank further into him, her thoughts going syrupy as her eyes fluttered shut.

“Will.”

“Hm?”

She ducked her head into the space between his shoulder and jaw, getting as close as she could. She let his warmth envelop her fully, his woodsmoke and spiced honey scent settling over her senses until her heartbeat slowed into something calm.

Maybe this is what she had forgotten:

How warm he was. How his shoulders blanketed hers. How the press of his chest to her back made her feel safe. Whole. Fragile in a way she never was allowed to be.

“Are we in the Beyond?”

She wasn’t sure where the question came from, but it fell from her lips easily in the wake of the safety that surrounded her.

Will pulled back, just enough to meet her gaze. His gray eyes were bright, those flecks of green shining like stars. “Of course not,” he laughed.

She should be relieved, she thought. Though she wasn’t sure why .

Why did she think she was dead?

Why did being alive send another pulse of dread through her?

What’s happening to me?

Will pressed a kiss to her head, letting his lips linger in her hair. This time, his touch was cold.

Not right. This is not right.

That dread thickened in her stomach, seeping through her insides and cementing itself there.

“You’re not dead, Aya love,” Will murmured, his grin bright and easy and strange as he peered down at her. “You don’t exist at all.”