Finally free.
Free from the misery of my existence. I welcome the end and surrender to the wind. In a moment, I will fall into the abyss.
The instant the wind lashes me, I shut my eyes. Ready for rest.
But my heart races again. Fear.
It’s too late to change my mind. The ground rushes up to meet me. Then the wind changes direction and I twirl and twirl and twirl, then collapse sharply several feet away from the edge, landing on my arse.
My veins burn. I don’t know what’s happened, why it’s happening.
I know only the pain, wriggling in the swamp. I’ve lost track of time. Time has slipped away. The sky darkens, and still, the pain refuses to fade.
Coward’s punishment. Punishment for running away. A dreadful realisation appears in my mind.
Gorok is furious.
I blink, coming down from the flashback. Shame, familiar as an old friend, tightens its grip around my chest.
The clear disapproval of my Creator is nearly as painful as his punishment.
When I fully shake myself from it, I brace for an insult, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Aidon’s hand finds mine. The gesture is unexpected but so needed; my mind empties. Tiredness settles deep into my very bones, and I find myself drifting away into the darkness of my mind, only this time, a firm grip prevents me from getting lost.
Chapter 15
A sharp whistle yanks me from winning the tournament. I jerk up in search of the culprit, foolishly hoping the reason why the rare occurrence, my dreams, aren’t full of death and cries, is an attack of an invader, a mighty adversary, or something else totally justifiable.
To my utter shock and astonishment, the reason is far more entertaining than I could ever imagine.
I gape at the sleeping black feline, heating my thighs. His furry legs dangle in the air, wiggling each time the abrupt spasms hit his tiny body.
He snores like an adult Bridge Troll.
I bite on my knuckles, stifling the giggle threatening to escape my lips. And reinforce my shield, so as not to wake up that… pet.
His small furry chest rises, and with the falling, the obnoxious sound fills the night. A small, pink tongue protruding from his tiny feline lips makes it even more hilarious.
The almighty Aidon, heir of Mark Draconis. The future Lord of the Simon clan, Blood Bonded to me. I will never let him get away with it.
Finally, some leverage.
Satisfied, I scoop up his tiny frame, set him gently aside, and cover him with my blanket. He stirs with a strange sound butdoesn’t wake. I rise, steadying myself in silence, one foot after the other.
Welcoming the reprieve of the cold kissing my shoulders, I stroll through the camp, directing myself to the guarding post. I smile, seeing Nulok embracing his orb, while Bane is lying on his back, wings folded. He remains alert to every danger, even in rest. The other bedrolls are empty.
The night is at its darkest.
Even the wicked rest now, only to wake at dawn and bring their torment once again. This is the moment when the campfire almost runs out of wood, politely extinguishing its life, to be replaced by the sunrise.
I spot Jestin’s lean frame, leaning against a tree, his gaze focused on the black horizon. He doesn’t move as I sit beside him.
“Where’s Riven?” I cringe when my voice disturbs the ceasefire of the night.
He shifts to make more room, placing me between his thighs as my head finds refuge against his chest.
Home.
“Am I not enough to entertain you?” he teases, his breath like warm caresses on my cold skin, my neck turns itself towards his lips, begging for more.
