Page 35 of The Frost Witch (The Covenants of Velora #1)

The next three days were progressively worse. Garrick woke me earlier and pushed me faster. And he fucking smirked when I threw myself down on the ground on the second day and ate an entire day’s worth of food in one sitting.

There were no more midnight trips to visit Alize, nor attempts to teach me to defend myself. We did not see the other supplicants at all, though it did not take much reasoning to puzzle out that the only one who could be ahead of us was Alize.

Occasionally, I caught Garrick watching me with that intense gaze. And just as occasionally, I gave him my back. The less I had to talk with him, the less I was reminded that I was deficient in every way describable.

Without my coven, my power was fading. I had barely made it through the first two of the Seven Gates.

My inability to defend myself in hand-to-hand combat made me a liability to the man whose life I’d saved, only to saddle him with mine.

And my body had the audacity to be attracted to him, while he lusted after a female whose race was responsible for the destruction of my family.

On the fourth day, we climbed. Each day had boasted an elevation gain, but this was by far the worst. The cold air burned my throat as it entered my body, then scraped like a knife on the way back out.

I was a fucking frost witch, and still I could not breathe steadily enough to appreciate the icy beauty of the mountain we climbed.

Crevices like the ones we’d dodged at the Mercy Gate traced patterns of cerulean death up the glacier. A fresh dusting of snow coated the treetops, but this high it hadn’t accumulated because of the brutal wind that whipped between the peaks at night.

I was about to yell up to Garrick to ask how much longer before we reached the gate when the temple appeared like a ghost from between the trees.

The first two temples had been impressive, but this one made the others seem like feeble attempts at grandeur.

This temple had been crafted by the gods themselves.

It was carved directly into the mountainside, dark slate-colored stone forming shining faces that reflected the morning sunlight. Instead of seven stained-glass windows, effigies of the Seven Gods towered over the arched entrance.

Seraxa, the Goddess of Mercy, was draped in voluminous robes.

Then came Edravos, holding the scales of justice.

A pair of nooses would have been more appropriate.

And then Xyta, the Deity of Sacrifice, twin to Ramkael, the God of Devotion.

My eyes slid to the end of the line, to the uncarved face of the Dark God.

When I was a child, they’d called him the Unknown One.

There were no hints as to what his gate, the final of the seven, might entail.

No one had ever made it far enough to find out.

Maybe, if I made it that far, I would have some advantage. I’d prayed to him for three hundred and seventy-seven years. The witches were his creations.

But I would never make it that far.

It had been just over a week since I entered the temple at the Mercy Gate. In that time, I’d nearly died in one gate, gotten myself bonded to a deadly bounty hunter, and proved how unsuited I was to the mental and physical demands of the Seven Gates.

I would not survive the gates.

But Varian, the priestess, had said that we could walk away from them for a time. Nimra had asked specifically. She had a family that needed her, I guessed. Why else would a young woman like her attempt the Seven Gates?

If I could walk away long enough… maybe I could leave Velora altogether.

That had been my plan since I was first cast out from my coven.

I’d pledged my life to the gods by entering the temple…

but maybe there were different gods on different continents.

Maybe the Dark God would protect me from the wrath of the others. I could do it.

I could run.

Garrick was nearly at the doors. Just like before, he would not turn to check on me. We were the only supplicants for miles, thanks to the grueling pace he had set. We might even get two nights to rest, depending on what had happened to Nimra and Nash over the past few days.

I would use my power to cover my tracks more carefully than I had a few nights before. Maybe he would not follow me at all. I was his bonded, but Alize was his love.

I can run.

I took one step backward. Then another. A few more, and I would fade back into the shade of the tree line. Garrick reached the doors, yanked them open and?—

Turned.

Found me at the edge of the clearing that spread out in a semi-circle in front of the temple. Pinned me with his gaze. Even at that distance, I felt its burning intensity.

“Come inside, Koryn.”

His mouth barely opened, yet it felt like he’d whispered the words directly into my ear.

They were not sarcastic nor lined with dry humor.

They were warmer and softer than I deserved.

I felt them deep in my stomach, then in the center of my chest where the dead organ of my heart had once beat so painfully.

My feet started moving again. Garrick did not enter this time, instead holding open the door for me as he’d done for Kyrelle all those days ago. Before I could account for it, I’d stomped past him and into the temple.