Desperation clawed through her, and she found herself pleading for Dravaryn soil in a way she would have mocked mere moments ago.
She closed her eyes, gripping the reins not with her hands, but with her mind. She gathered the loose threads of place and pulled, picturing the real trees and the black seam of the obsidian cliffs, calling up the shape of the trail they had ridden that morning and the exact tone of his voice when he had said her name,Ella, flinging herself toward that sound as if it were a rope thrown across a chasm.
Something snapped, though there was no sound.
The creature beneath her was only a horse again. The storm vanished as if a curtain had been torn down. The air returned to its ordinary chill, the kind that bit but did not dream of devouring. Her skin was merely skin, and yet she did not trust the wordmerelyanymore, not when her hair was still damp at the temples and not when her fingertips still sang with a bright, thin tremble like the echo of lightning that could not find ground.
Her breathing slowed, each inhale steadier than the last, and she forced her heart to match it. She lifted her gaze, scanning the world around her. The trees stood quiet and ordinary, their branches swaying gently in a breeze that carried no threat. The ground was solid beneath her horse’s hooves, damp earth and fallen leaves exactly as they should be. Above, the sky wasa stretch of clean blue, bright with sunlight, a slight chill in the air but not a cloud in sight. The world looked unchanged, untouched, as if nothing unnatural had bled through its seams.
“Going somewhere, Princess?”
Jakobav stepped directly into her path, blocking the horse with infuriating ease. She yanked the reins, and the animal rocked back before settling.
“You were behind me,” she said, voice rough, accusation cutting through the tremor in her breath.
“I was,” he answered, stepping closer. “I saw you. And then you were gone.” His gaze locked onto hers, unblinking. “You disappeared, Ella.”
Her pulse spiked. “For how long?”
“Long enough,” he said, his voice even and too calm, “for me to know it wasn’t a trick of my eyes. You slipped the Veil.” He studied her like he could pin her in place by will alone. “That should not be possible.”
Fear and fury tangled in her chest, spilling into her words. “And what, you think hovering over me is going to stop it?”
His reply came low and certain, a growl shaped into language. “Not hovering. Not guarding. I want the truth, and I think I know where we can find it. Come with me.”
Her retort caught in her throat. There was fire in his eyes, but not the blaze of anger. It was steadier, darker, as though he’d been bracing for this all along.
She slid from the saddle, folding her arms as if she could hide her fear beneath her skin. “Then where the hell are we going?”
He held her stare in silence long enough for it to bite. “East of the pass,” he said finally. “A seer lives there. Never met her, but my family has known of her for generations.”
“And why the fuck would I trust that?”
He removed his cloak before answering.
“Because I need to know what you are.” He stepped closer, the last light burning in his eyes. “And I think,” his voice dropped lower, brushing against her like a touch, “you do too.”
Her throat tightened.
“Is that a demand? Chains and all if I say no?” A drop of water slid down her arm, and she wiped it away, her fingers unsteady.
“Here.”
He held the cloak out, not quite touching her.
“You’re shaking.”
She drew a breath and unfastened her own cloak, the fabric heavy and dripping as she slipped it from her shoulders. The cold hit her instantly.
She let her wet cloak fall to the ground. Dramatic, maybe, but right now she didn’t care. Only then did she reach for his and take it, her fingers brushing his in a fleeting spark of warmth. She wrapped the dry fabric around herself and dragged the hem across her arms, wiping away the last raindrops clinging to her skin.
His jaw set while he waited, but when he spoke, the words came rougher, almost reluctant. “No. I’m not forcing you to come with me. It’s your choice. But if you come, you follow my lead. It will be dangerous.”
Ella stepped close enough to feel his breath. “I’ll follow what keeps us alive,” she murmured, “not orders for the sake of orders.”
His mouth curved, less than a smile, but more than a challenge. “I can work with alive.”
Alive.
