Page 71 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

Aya had kept secrets her entire life.

The death of her mother, the unusual tug of her power, the confusing feelings that stirred in her stomach back when she’d hated Will but didn’t understand why he could so easily slip beneath the careful tether she kept on her rage.

It was a strange thing to be free of such burdens now; to wake up in Will’s arms and know that he had seen the depths of her, and did not fear what he’d found.

That final confession of what Evie had threatened to do to her in Kakos had felt like a cleansing of sorts, the admission of her relief and how much she loathed herself for it leaving her lips and taking the guilt and shame with it.

It had made it easier to tell Will the rest.

No matter how far the fall , they’d promised.

She’d retaken that vow that night at the lake, a new scar adorning her palm.

And she kept it by filling in the details of her time in Kakos each day they traveled.

She knew it painted a horrific picture; Will couldn’t hide the revulsion that sometimes flickered across his face when she spoke of Evie. But she could see the relief, too.

“Thank you for trusting me.” He’d pressed the words into her lips on their final night in the farmlands.

They’d taken advantage of camping under the stars before heading into the Druswood, and Aya had used the soothing blanket of the night sky to ease her breath as she told him of that first time Andras had stolen her power—how it had ripped at something deep inside of her, something she wasn’t sure would ever heal.

He’d held her close and listened steadily, and when she was done, he brought a smile back to her face by telling her outrageous stories about the constellations that she knew, based on their utter ridiculousness, were nowhere near the truth.

She smiled as she remembered them now, her body warm in the cradle of Will’s arms as they slept on the floor of a cave deep in the Druswood.

She could hardly make out the early morning light through the thick canopy of trees, but the birdsong indicated dawn had come.

She glanced toward the mouth of the cave to see Akeeta and Tyr nestled against one another.

They’d been hunting late last night, and Will and Aya had taken full advantage of the privacy.

Aya stretched the best she could in Will’s hold, her body aching pleasantly.

“Stop squirming,” Will grumbled, his voice rough with sleep as he buried his head into the bare skin of her shoulder.

“It’s morning,” Aya replied. The pads of her fingers skimmed across his forearm. As if in agreement, the wolves lifted their heads. Tyr stretched languidly before stepping out of the cave, Akeeta at his heels. “They’re eager to go,” Aya mused.

“I don’t care,” Will muttered, tugging her closer. His mouth brushed her shoulder and up her neck. “Want to stay here.”

Aya shivered as his breath coasted over her ear. “You know we can’t.”

“Mm,” Will hummed, his teeth tugging gently on her earlobe. He shifted, his leg pressing between hers as his hand coasted down her stomach. “I could make a convincing argument,” he reasoned as his fingers slipped right where she wanted him most.

Aya’s breath caught, her hips bucking up against his hand. Will chuckled, the sound seductive and dark in her ear. “But I suppose you’re right,” he murmured, his fingers withdrawing the slightest bit. “We should get going—”

Aya’s fingernails dug into the skin on his wrist, stilling his hand from further retreat. “I will kill you if you stop,” she warned, the threat utterly diminished by the desire thinning her voice.

Will pressed his grin into the crook of her neck as his fingers resumed their sweet torture.

“Well that certainly wont do, will it, Aya love?”

***

The levity did not last. It came in stolen moments, often when they tangled together at night, or in the rare instances when they allowed themselves a break from strategizing what they would do on their arrival as they rode through the dark, tangled maze of the Druswood.

But the closer they drew to the Talan border, the more elusive those moments became.

Aya could see the worry beginning to wrap around Will, tightening the space between his shoulder blades. It only grew worse when they officially crossed over into Tala.

Perhaps something had dulled in her after all she had encountered in Kakos. Because while she felt apprehension stirring in her stomach, that sharpness of fear was nowhere to be found, even as she considered how she very well might be facing the mob who killed her father.

What news would have come from Sitya this time? Had Evie claimed her place in the narrative, or was she continuing to use Aya’s name as a mantle for her sins?

Aya supposed she’d find out soon enough.

Will slowed their horse to a stop as they exited the Druswood, the land opening up into sprawling farmlands that stretched on as far as the eye could see.

There, in the distance, stood the Malas, the sight of them enough to have Aya’s eyes burning.

“Welcome home, Aya love,” Will murmured. She squeezed the hand he kept free of the reins.

The truth was, she’d been home for weeks now. She’d arrived the moment she stumbled out of the wreckage of the citadel and into Will’s arms.

Yet longing stirred in her chest, a bittersweet ache as she took in those towering, snow-capped peaks. She had been so certain she would never see them again.

Tyr paused ahead of them, his ears perked toward the mountains as he lifted his head and let out a long howl. As if he, too, had feared he would never return, and he could not contain the sweeping relief that they had.

***

“You want to stay here.”

Aya’s observation was quiet enough that it was nearly lost to the crackling embers of the small dying fire Will had set in yet another cave. It hardly illuminated the space now, the shadows growing taller across the hulking stone walls the further it died.

Will shifted against her, dragging her closer as they lay on the bedroll.

“When we were looking for you…there weren’t many places to seek shelter,” he began, his voice low.

“I remember thinking if I never saw a cave again, it would be too soon.” He paused, his lips brushing the space below her ear before he smiled against her skin.

“Perhaps it was simply that none of them compared to that first one.”

That first one, in those mountains bordering the Preuve desert in Trahir. The place where they’d first kissed. Where Aya had first dropped the walls she’d built so high.

“I could stay anywhere with you for as long as you allowed it, this cave included,” Will finished. There was so much he wasn’t saying, but Aya knew him well enough that she could read the truth beneath his honeyed words.

He would abandon it all, if she only asked.

“It would be nice,” she whispered—her own unspoken truth masked beneath the words.

“It would,” he agreed.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to trace every crevice of the back of his hand, the way it dipped between the bones, the small cuts around his knuckles, the tiny scar on the left side that would have faded had they had healing tonic, but didn’t.

“We need some sort of plan, Aya,” he finally said, tension carving a razored edge to his otherwise soft voice. “We can’t simply walk into the center of town and demand an audience with Hyacinth.”

Aya smiled. The movement nearly hurt, as if her muscles still weren’t used to moving in such a direction. She was still relearning how to make expressions of levity.

“I was planning on being a bit more discreet,” she teased, her fingers stilling as she splayed them over the back of his hand. Her brow furrowed as she considered her next words. “Tova and I used to sneak through the palace. Did you know that?”

She felt Will move to gaze down at her, but she kept hers fixed on the fire. “No,” he said gently. “I didn’t.”

He waited for her to say more, but that was all she had in her to admit.

Speaking Tova’s name felt like someone had taken a blade to her chest, and though she tried to force herself to replay their memories, to honor her best friend in her mind and in her heart, she wasn’t ready to share that with anyone else.

Even Will.

Will pressed a lingering kiss to her hair, as if he understood.

“If we approach from the northeast, we’re less likely to draw attention to ourselves,” Aya reasoned. The Malas were certainly more treacherous the further north one went, but Aya had spent years navigating their rugged paths with Tyr.

“I don’t like the idea of you going back into the palace to face another pious queen,” he murmured against her skull.

“I don’t particularly care for it either, but what choice do I have?” She could appeal directly to the people, she supposed, but after hearing what they’d done to her father…

She did not want to be forced to choose between her life and theirs. She did not want to be backed into a corner and risk being the exact thing they all feared she was.

No, force would not do. Not this time. She needed patience—control. Luckily, she’d spent months honing hers with deadly precision.

Will’s chest rose and fell against her back as he took a deep breath. It was telling that he did not argue with her, that he did not ask her to damn them all to the hells and let those in Dunmeaden suffer for their ignorance.

“Do you think she’ll listen?” Aya asked, the question a mere whisper that faded into the darkness of the cave. “Hyacinth?”

She had to hope the High Priestess would see reason. Without her support, Aya did not know where that left them.

Will’s arms tightened around her waist, his head tucking into the space between her neck and shoulder. “I don’t know.”

***