Page 54 of Thorn Season (Thorn Season #1)

Then a horse’s screech pierced the sky, and my skin bristled. Hooves clomped, and people yelled, and steel clanged with an ear-ringing force. Keil remained rigid throughout it all, feet angled toward the fray, neck craning for every sound.

There was a final thud. And silence.

Keil moved, and I grabbed his hand to hold him back.

“It’s all right.” He stroked his thumb along my knuckles before leading me onto the bank.

I saw the horses first—five brawny steeds racing away on a cloud of powdered dirt. I counted only three of their riders: two face down in the grass, another slung across the shoulder of a masked man with a topknot.

A double-headed axe glinted at his back.

As Goren stomped toward the foliage, another armored figure skidded across the grass after him, dragged by the invisible leash of Goren’s specter. The guard’s body made one long trail toward the tree line before the gloom swallowed him up.

The last guard stirred with a moan. I stiffened, gathering my specter. But a broad shape stepped from the darkness, and with one swift blow to the back of the head, the guard was down again. Lye tossed me a wink before hauling the guard away.

“They don’t know it was you,” Keil whispered just as Dashiel emerged, brushing off leaves and debris. Osana marched close behind, her braids swishing. Even with the mask, I knew she was giving me a sneering look.

“They’re secured,” Dashiel said, “but we shouldn’t linger.”

An axe swoosh ed through the greenery, hacking at branches. Goren trudged beside Dashiel and glowered at my hand, still wrapped in Keil’s. I automatically dropped my grip.

“Are you two finished?” Goren barked. “The king’s guards are crawling at every border.”

Dashiel looked between me and Keil apologetically. “We have a long night ahead, Your Highness.”

I jerked back. “Highness?”

Keil’s laughter rumbled deep. “A decorative title only. A relic my cousins and I were allowed to retain upon the empress’s ascension to the throne.”

I blinked up at him, taking in his wry smile, his slightly raised brows—as if he awaited my understanding.

The expression tickled my memory, bringing forth his words from that night in the city: You’re referring to my empress’s reputation, I assume, in imprisoning the would-be heirs who might threaten her rule.

Keil had always spoken of the empress with an easy familiarity, as though uncaring of her cruel treatment toward those innocents.

But not because of blind loyalty or a rose-colored faith in people.

Tonight had proved to me that he wouldn’t thoughtlessly obey orders he didn’t believe in. He wouldn’t stand behind a cruel ruler.

So, perhaps the empress’s reputation of cruelty had not been founded upon the truth.

“You’re one of those heirs,” I breathed. “A grandchild of the former emperor.”

Keil’s grin deepened, and the confirmation stunned me all over again.

The tales claimed that the empress had killed Keil’s father. But as the glowing moonlight revealed his winking dimple, I realized there must have been more to the story. More than I would ever get the chance to know.

And yet I was unexpectedly grateful to know this much. To know that the empress of Ansora, the most politically powerful Wielder of my time, was not quite the monster people believed her to be.

Then Lye sauntered from the foliage, returning me fully to the present as he said, “That’s right, lockpicker. Why did you think we let him boss us around? Because we like the pretty sound of his voice?”

“Wait,” Keil said. “You don’t like my voice?”

Lye arched a brow at me. “See what I mean? You should see him back home, making us bow to him in the corridors and shine his shoes with our dress shirts.”

Keil rolled his eyes. “Do you own a dress shirt?”

Goren made a rough sound of impatience. “Impress your sweetheart another time. Those guards won’t be the last.” He turned his glare on me. “They’ll make him pay for attacking your king. Is that what you want?”

“Maybe it is.” Osana crossed her arms. “Maybe this was a trick to get us all in one place.”

“Oh, because I’ve so enjoyed all our previous gatherings,” I snapped.

“Isn’t this the second time we’ve saved your life now?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I lost count amid all the kidnapping attempts.”

Lye raised his hand. “I was not in favor of that last one, if anyone cares.”

“We don’t,” Goren said.

“Enough.” Keil’s voice had lost its humor. He was now all harsh authority as he met their stares, lingering on Goren and Osana. “Give us a moment.”

They all deflated except Goren, who strode forward, flipping his axe. “We don’t have a moment.” The blade flashed. “We need to leave now .”

I yelped as his specter knocked my side, thrusting me away from Keil and slamming a wall between us.

I didn’t think before I struck. It was instinctual—the way my specter smacked against his, making him stumble. And with a brief, sweeping appraisal—

I shredded through Goren’s specter as if with claws.

The force of it threw him backward. He grunted, landing hard on his rear.

The others whipped to attention—weapons out, feet apart, heads snapping around for the danger. My specter returned to me aching, but it was worth it as I sneered, “He told you to wait, sweetheart .”

They all turned toward me and paused, the whites of their eyes shining wide in the dark.

Goren’s head lifted slowly off the green with an air of incredulity.

For one long moment, there was only the river’s burble to break the silence.

Then Keil made a noise between a choke and a laugh, and they knew:

I was the one who’d attacked Erik. Keil had taken the blame for me.

Their weapons scraped back into their sheaths, but they didn’t quite relax.

Dashiel was watching me in awe; Osana, in something closer to discomfort, her hands twitching at her sides.

Lye was the only one grinning—I could tell from the deep creases around his eyes.

And as Goren labored to his feet, he looked me over with wariness and slight alarm.

I imagined it was the same look others gave him when they crossed him in the street.

Satisfaction flared through me. If I were more like Carmen, I might have blown him a kiss.

“When you’re ready, then,” said Dashiel, still dazed. He gave me a last broad glance, then shook his head as if to clear it. I almost rolled my eyes. I wasn’t the first Wielder they’d ever met.

But as they shuffled toward the trees, Lye leaned close to Dashiel and asked, “Did she just—?”

“Yes.”

“And how many people can—?”

“Not many.”

Lye whistled. “Well done, lockpicker.”

“She can’t really pick locks,” Osana muttered.

Then they disappeared into the foliage, out of earshot. Before I could wonder what Lye had meant, Keil turned to me. That same strange awe glazed his face.

“Don’t tell me,” I said dryly. “Goren has a fancy title too, and now there’s a price on my head.”

Amusement cracked his odd expression, then his wicked grin stretched wide. “You’d look ravishing on a wanted poster.”

“I bet you say that to all the Wielder girls.”

He brought his hand to my face again, grazing the dimple that must have creased at my smile. “No,” he murmured. “Only you.”

The words twisted inside me, and my smile faded.

Keil’s gaze became mournful. “I really can’t steal you away?”

I wavered—because Keil was offering everything I’d always wanted. A chance to Wield uninhibited... a chance to be free.

But within my mind wriggled the image of those prison tunnels. Of Marge’s tooth, and my attacker’s swinging fist. Of all the Wielders who would buckle under similar blows.

And of the last clothes my father had ever worn, dyed with his own blood.

Father would’ve begged me to leave his death— all their deaths—unavenged. To leave this kingdom forever. The person I’d been one month ago might have begged, too.

Yet where my power would have once reared up at the idea of true safety... it now remained curled inside me. Hardened by my determination.

“Not this time,” I replied sadly.

Keil nodded, throat bobbing. He went to pull back.

But before I could contain it, my specter reached out, lacing between his fingers. He stilled; his breath caught.

And slowly, Keil’s specter poured against mine.

The sensation hummed over me, somehow more vibrant than skin on skin. We were hesitant at first, twining nervously like hands in their first clasp. But soon the tendrils were braiding together, thrumming at the contact, spilling warm and fast into the cool night air.

Then I was laughing, half crying, as my specter ran frantic—fluttering in the blaze of my joy. In its shimmering waves, I could see the indents where Keil’s specter pressed close, and I wondered how the sight appeared to him—if, like me, he could see the shape I’d made against his power.

I tipped my face toward him and smiled wider at his expression: soft and joyful and amazed, all at once. He touched his forehead to mine, and I took a deep inhale. My sigh gusted across his lips. This was everything I’d always wanted.

And it was happening with Keil.

“I’m glad,” I whispered, “that it was you.” I meant it in every sense.

He shifted angle, and the barest brush of our mouths sent heat flaring across my skin. “I’m glad,” he said, resting his hands at my waist, “that it was you .”

His spectral touch flickered, its rhythm slowing as his heavy breathing tickled my lips. The waves went loose and tense in different places, like muscles shifting in an embrace.

My power heated, lapping out with its own tentative ripples. Each graze of contact—similar to the trace of searching fingertips—sent phantom tingles over my arms.

Keil was watching me, tender and uncertain. “Is this all right?” he whispered. Because this was a more vulnerable exploration. A mutual baring of ourselves.

I reached for his face, fingers trembling across the line of his jaw. “Yes,” I breathed.

Though I’d never known true safety, I imagined it felt something like this: going soft and languid against someone who I knew would hold on to me, even as I melted.

Keil drew me closer from the waist, thumbs drawing faint circles over the thin fabric of my blouse. His power echoed the movement in a gentle caress across my specter.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his mouth moving against mine. “Every part of you.”

My power went fluid under his touch, a muscle rolled out from knots, and another sigh rushed out of me as the sensation soothed the tightness in my chest.

I swallowed, vision swimming. My specter had always represented the most uncomfortable piece of myself—a straining ache, weighing on my bones.

I’d never realized until this moment that it could bring me anything but pain.

Keil knew it. Which was why he brushed his power against my own again—with warm, intimate intent—and whispered the same words he’d spoken on the balcony, now with a deeper, softer meaning. “It’s a gift,” he said, turning his lips toward my hand. “And gifts should never hurt.”

He pressed a kiss inside my palm. Smiled against my skin.

As our specters untangled and my power flowed back inside me—still flittering from his touch—my free hand climbed up his armor. I hooked the back of his neck.

And finally, finally , I drew him down to me.

Our mouths pressed hot and sweet and open, and Keil went loose as honey—one hand gathering me against him, the other cradling the nape of my neck.

I buried my fingers in his hair, bringing him impossibly nearer until his groan rumbled through me.

Until my back arched—my grip tightened—because I knew this was goodbye, and I could never bring him this near again.

Keil pulled away first, but only to run his lips down my neck, each kiss blossoming with new heat across my skin. His hand threaded through my hair, tilting me back, and my breaths rushed up into the night through parted lips.

He paused at my pulse point, and I felt myself unraveling as his mouth moved slowly against my throat. “Every part,” he said deeply, his hair tickling my cheek. “So beautiful.”

The words curled within me, as fragile and shimmering as a spectral thread.

Keil trailed those soft kisses back up my throat—across my jaw, my dimpled cheek—ending with one last brush upon my mouth. One last moment of shared breathing, lashes fluttering against skin.

As if we were both pressing into this silence all the time we should have had, because we had no time left.

Keil held my face between both hands again, calluses scraping softly where he brushed my hair away.

“ Alissa ,” he whispered, and my name was a plea on his lips—a prayer.

The sound of it turned me molten, almost had me saying yes to him— yes, yes, yes —because what did crowns and kingdoms matter when he’d already made me a god in his arms?

But as the river breeze cooled my skin, reality clawed back to me, sharp and insistent; an ache spread throughout my chest once more.

Because I knew I couldn’t follow him down a path that wasn’t mine.

Our parting was painful—arms drifting off each other, feet shuffling back as our bodies still leaned in. I’d never been a natural wish-maker, but I found myself wishing for a lot of things as Keil cleared his throat and straightened, that mixture of heat and sorrow still glassing over his eyes.

“Be careful,” he said.

“I have to be. I owe you my life.”

The ghost of that infuriating smile graced his lips. “I’ll settle for a dance.”

I waited until Keil’s footsteps faded, until my chest stopped throbbing, before I slanted my head to the sky. I was as close to my estate as I was to the palace. I could ride home and never return to Henthorn again.

But I’d journeyed too far to turn back now.

So I rode into the city, the stars at my back. And, gathering the frayed seams of my aimless fury, I began to sew a plan.