“Rhyan? Rhyan, what happened?”
The stone went white.
“Rhyan, answer me. Rhyan!” Fuck. I took off, running in the direction he’d gone in, leaping over snow piles and fallen branches.
He said he was checking the perimeter, so I started turning, trying to find a path that circled around the cave. But as I continued to search, there was no sign of him.
I didn’t want to yell his name in case whoever had sent the snakes were near. So instead, I yelled, “Partner? Partner!”
I ran farther, faster, weaving in and out of the trees, my eyes wide and searching.
“Partner?” I yelled.
Then blue light filled the vadati. “Lyriana!” Rhyan’s voice shouted.
“Rhyan! Gods! Are you okay?” I moved forward, pushing through the branches to find him. It was so dark, I could barely see where I was going. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Stay exactly where you are. Do not move. I will come to you.”
I paused, biting my lip as I searched for any sign of him in the gaps between the trees. My stomach started to sink,thinking of the nahashim. But within seconds, I could hear the sound of boots crunching in the snow.
Rhyan’s familiar form came into view, emerging from behind a cluster of pines. He walked forward at a quickened pace. Not injured. Not captured.
I raced forward, relief rushing over me. “Gods. You scared me!”
“You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here.” He remained still, letting me reach him and throw myself into his embrace. For a second, he seemed stunned, his body stiff and unyielding against mine. But then slowly, his arms wrapped around me, his hands patting my back.
“We need to go,” I said. “The snake is reporting to someone nearby.”
“You figured it out,” he said.
Something was wrong. His voice was his, but the way he was speaking felt odd to me. He sounded so formal, completely devoid of his usual spark. I couldn’t detect any of the usual care he infused into almost every word he spoke to me. Stranger still, he remained stiff, not actually hugging me back. He was awkwardly patting my shoulders, while I was holding onto him as if my life depended on it. On the gryphon, he’d pressed me against him like he was trying to meld our bodies into one. And now, he seemed like he couldn’t keep enough distance between us.
I took a deep breath and it hit me. His scent was all wrong. Clean. Pine. But … unfamiliar.
I pulled away, staring up into his eyes, checking over his face for any sign of injury. But it was still so dark, I couldn’t see him clearly.
“Rhyan? Is everything okay?”
His eyes met mine in the moonlight, but … I felt like I was seeing a stranger. Rhyan’s eyes were empty of recognition. I couldn’t explain it. They were just as emerald as theyalways were, but they weren’this. They lacked his warmth. His spark. His love.
Which made no sense. I was being silly. It was just dark, and I was still unsettled from my flight, and yet—
The scar that ran through his left eyebrow down to his cheek—the scar his father had given to him, the scar that I had traced a hundred times—was gone. The skin there was perfectly smooth and pristine. And I realized he looked younger. Softer. Like the Rhyan I’d met over three years ago. I remembered suddenly seeing him for the first time in Urtavia on my birthday this year. I’d noted all the ways he’d changed since the summer we’d kissed. How he’d looked older, wearier, tougher. And scarred. Now, it was as if none of that had ever happened. As if he’d gone back in time.
“Your scar.” I reached for his face, my fingers tracing the place where it had been. He flinched. “It’s gone.”
“LYR!” Rhyan screamed. But his mouth hadn’t moved, his voice was coming from behind me.
I turned my head.
“That’s not me! Lyr! Run!”
I faced the Rhyan in front of me again and jumped back, seeing his armor for the first time. Strapped across his chest was his old Glemarian chest plate adorned with the sigil of Ka Hart. The sigil that marked our kashonim was gone. And he was wearing it outside his cloak, the way it was supposed to be worn. Not the way we’d been wearing ours since we’d been on the run.
My mouth opened to yell, but Rhyan lunged for me, his hand around my neck, a stave pointed at my chest. Black rope coiled, springing forward and wrapping around me. Binding me. My chest seized. It was just like when Tristan had bound me. The panic I’d felt rushed back. I’d trusted him at the time, loved him, and he’d hurt me.
But … but Rhyan didn’t have a stave. He wasn’t a mage. And no matter what, under no circumstances would Rhyan ever hurt or do anything like this to me.
