Although I don’t feel particularly strong right now. Not with the memory of our last few training sessions embedded in my mind like a nightmare I can’t escape from.
I glance down to his outstretched hand. “That’s not necessary. I can ride.”
I don’t want to touch him. I don’t want him touching me.
But he doesn’t move. “You’re under my orders.”
And in front of a full unit of soldiers, undoubtedly watching the show unfolding before them with wide eyes and questions Iwould prefer not to answer. I don’t know any of them. Silence stretches out behind me.
I have no allies here. The punishment for refusing the orders of your superior is severe.
But this is no usual situation. I will leave them—leave him—behind in the Veilspire, and journey on alone to whatever faces me in Umbraxis.
Possibly for the first time, I feel grateful for the escape.
I take a breath. “No.”
Getting ready to move, I grip the reins again. But Cindral is faster. His arm wraps around my waist as he drags me from my horse like a child, yanking my feet from the stirrups and pulling me into him. Myluminth daggers slip free before his hand grips my chin, the growled words icing over my chest. “Ride with me, or I will tie you to my horse and drag you behind for insubordination.”
I swallow. He has me in his lap, pressed against him. My dagger is angled against his heart. Cindral looks down. Pushes himself into the bright tip, until the edge pricks his armour, pushing against the luminous gold breastplate. “Try it, and see what happens.”
I debate it.
His breathing has sped up. “Why do you insist on testing me, Lyra?”
I keep still. Very still, attempting to mentally calculate a way back to my own horse. “I need to focus on the mission. You know that. I can’t be distracted.”
“I know.” His words brush my lips, our exchange hidden by his shoulders. “The Commander has issued specific instructions to me as to how you should be delivered to that mission. Your thighs bleeding and raw from riding was not part of the description.”
I frown, something about his words landing oddly—
“And I only get one more day with you.” My breath leaves my lungs in a rapid, pained exhale as he leans in. His teeth sink into my lower lip. “I intend to make the most of it.”
I yank my head away, tasting blood as my skin tears beneath his teeth. So much for arriving unscathed. “We’re not in training now. I don’t have to obey you.”
I don’t have to go through that again. But his hands tighten on me. “You’ll obey my orders until you leave.”
There’s a cough behind us. We’ve lingered long enough to test the patience of even the well-trained unit observing us, and humiliation flushes my cheeks. “Fine.”
I wonder what they think, as we set off. Cindral keeps his arms wrapped around me, setting a punishing pace as we race across the plains. I stay silent for the first hour, not looking up at him. Eventually, he sighs. “You haven’t forgiven me.”
Taking a breath, I debate my answer. His scent fills my nose—rich, heady, overwhelming myrrh, from the temple. He must have visited this morning, along with the rest of the unit, to offer tribute to the old gods for a safe return. I haven't set foot there since I turned six. Beneath that is something almost floral. The familiarity makes my stomach swirl with nausea. “Do you feel there’s something to forgive?”
A few more minutes pass by. Then— “I was under orders. As were you. I didn’t enjoy it.”
Bile fills my mouth. “I think we both know that’s a lie. I want to go back to my own horse.”
His hand tightens around me. “No. I thought it would be better if it was someone you knew. We were friends, Lyra. Better me than someone else, someone who would have…”
He trails off. I twist, staring up at him. Cindral’s jaw is tight. He doesn’t look at me. “Who would havewhat, exactly? Hurt me? How did that work out for you? Because I know how it worked for me.”
A week under healer care. Nothing compared to what I’ve had in the past, but this felt different. “Maybe we were friends before. But not now. Not ever again.”
An odd sort of friendship, but as close as I’d ever gotten, given I was kept away from the vast majority of Solvandyr society for most of my life. Rivals, more than anything. Not quite enemies, though the two of us were competitive enough that it colored our every interaction and Commander Vaelion only encouraged it. But I was always a step ahead.
Always. Until I wasn’t.
His fingers land on my cheek. Grabbing them, I twist until a grunt sounds in his throat. “Touch me again, and I won’t care who’s watching us. I’ll remove them.”
