His gaze catches mine through the trunks, widening before they close. His head drops, then rises again.
And slowly, he shakes his head.Don’t.
The silent plea lands in my chest like a stone.I’m here.
He doesn’t nod. He doesn’t move. But something in his gaze tightens, as if he’s holding on harder, even as his eyes sweep as if he’s searching for any other figures hidden in the trees. Cindral steps closer to him, boots crunching against the snow. He says something, and Darian’s lips curl into a bloodstained snarl.
Iliria laughs. A bright, delighted sound that makes my skin crawl.
Slipping out from behind the log, I circle to the opposite side so my approach comes from behind their small group. The clearing’s edge is littered with footprints and blood. Moving carefully, I step where the snow is ruined so my own prints vanish into the mess they’ve already made.
I’m close enough now to hear them talk. Cindral’s voice cuts over Iliria, smooth as oil and just as palatable. “He’s valuable,” he says tightly. “The only dreamwalker, and a Council member. Beckett confirmed it. And I’m in no mood to waste gifts, unlike some people.”
Iliria’s smile sharpens. “Are you still talking about that bitch? You need to find something better to do with your time than obsess over that one. She was a traitor.”
“You’re lucky Beckett confirmed she’s alive. Her hands were survivable, and it wasn’t your role to hand out punishment. She was on assignment for the Commander. If we’d found her body, it would have been on your head.”
Cindral’s eyes glance to Darian and away, lips pressing together. But Darian’s head turns slowly. He stares up at Cindral with a look that suggests he’s deciding how to break his throat with his bare hands.
The sight does something violent to my chest.
Cindral’s gaze shifts in my direction. Suddenly sharper, as if he senses something.
I don’t plan to wait for him to come and find me.
Stepping out, I keep my eyes on the two Lightbringers who swing to face me. Snow crunches under my boots. My palms glow, luminth spilling between my fingers like water against the ground. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Iliria. As you can see, I’m very much alive. Your aim needs a little work.”
Iliria’s eyes widen, then narrow into pure malice. “Well,” she purrs, but her eyes flash with fire, flames jumping. “Look what finally crawled out of the snow.”
Cindral examines my clothing, taking in the Darkwielder uniform. His gaze locks onto my face, and something ugly flickers behind his eyes. Hunger and hatred, woven together so tightly they’re almost indistinguishable.
“Lyra.” He takes a step. “It’s good to see you.”
My stomach churns. The scars on my palms throb.
“You should have finished me instead of leaving me here,” I say, managing to keep my voice steady.
Cindral smiles. “And deny myself the pleasure of seeing you back where you belong?” He lets his gaze drag over me like a hand. “Absolutely not.”
Iliria shifts, circling me with her blade angled as I curve my body to keep her in sight. “Cindral, let me have her.”
Cindral doesn’t look at her. His attention stays on me, heavy and invasive. “No.”
My vision narrows.
“Let him go.” I despise that my voice shakes on the last word, even if it’s with the rage that fills me from my boots upward.
Iliria laughs again. “The dreamwalker? I haveplansfor him.”
Darian jerks against his bindings, snarling. “I willgutyou.”
But her grin only widens. “Oh, I hope you try.”
Cindral takes a slow step forward, hands relaxed at his sides, as if we’re still in the training yard. “You came alone. Is this a sign that you’ve rediscovered your loyalty? I hear you’ve made some interesting friends in Umbraxis.”
I don’t answer.
He tilts his head, eyes gleaming. “Or have you failed so completely that you have no one left to hide behind? Should I drag you back to Solvandyr in chains?”
