She tils her face up to mine, and when I kiss her this time—slow, aching, reverent—it feels like a vow.
Letthe world burn.
Right now, I have everything I need in my arms.
Chapter 11
Sabine
When we cross the tunnel beneath the border wall into Astagnon, it’s as husband and wife.
The next few days pass like a dream. Just us, the horses, and the forest—I feel transported back to the ride to Duren when Basten and I fell in love.
He might not remember it, but I’ll never forget.
I remember every stolen glance. Every brush of his skin on mine. How, over the weeks, I went from loathing the sight of him to waking every morning famished for just a few of his words. In the days after our wedding, Basten asks me to recount every single story, over and over, as if he hears them often enough, they’ll become the next best thing to his own memories.
In the evenings, when we stop to make camp, I practice using my affinity. It isn’t always easy going. There are as many setbacks as there are advancements. Sometimes, I’m able to spark a controlled fire to cook our dinner, but the next attempt, I strike myself with lightning and pass out for a full day. When I wake, watched over by a distraught Basten, it’s covered in a blanket of living, woven vines of my own making.
Afterward, I drank so much of his blood to renew my strength that I berated myself for hours—Ihaveto control myself so I don’t hurt him.
Or worse.
But I feel heartwarmed, in part, as we finally reach mountain ranges I recognize, and berries and mushrooms I picked when I was a little girl. This region is where my mother’s grave rests. It’s where Myst and I forged a friendship for the ages.
But it’s also where the darkest days of my life happened.
We’re about three days from Old Coros, according to Basten, when we reach a fork in the road that’s marked with a directional sign. An arrow to the left points the way to the small hamlet of Marblenz. The one to the right…
I draw Myst to a halt.
“Bremcote,” I murmur.
Basten shifts in Ranger’s saddle, his eyes on me instead of the forked path. “We can go east, toward Marblenz,” he says. “It’ll add half a day, but if you’ve changed your mind about passing near Bremcote…”
“No.” I try to sound confident. I spur Myst to the right, ignoring the ache that suddenly spreads up my spine as soon as we set foot in the direction of my childhood trauma. “I can handle it. We’re behind schedule anyway, after we lost that day near the Innis River.”
Basten hesitates, and I can feel the questions on his lips. “Sabine…”
I twist in the saddle to shoot him a stare. “What?”
He rubs the back of his neck. Finally, he lets out a sigh. “As soon as we crossed into Astagnon, your heart rate increased. The further south we go—closer to your childhood home—the more it skyrockets.”
“I’m worried there’s a chance we’ll run into Rian,” I snap.
He pauses. “There are other signs. You sweat more.”
“It’s hot!”
He nudges Ranger alongside Myst and drops his voice, though it’s only the two of us for miles. “During sex last night, a rain storm came out of nowhere and drenched us both.”
I press my lips tightly, holding in the urge to defend myself. “What are you suggesting?”
“Look.” He breathes in deeply, lets it out slowly. “Let’s not pretend as if we both haven’t noticed it. Nature has become more unpredictable the closer we get to Bremcote. Not just last night’s sudden downpour. There was that frozen stretch of the Innis River, never mind that it’s sixty degrees. Those vines that wove around my boots when I started across the footbridge, holding me back. The sudden herd of caribou that parked themselves in the road for half a day and wouldn’t budge to let us pass.”
I flick him a reluctant look. “You think I’m keeping us from Bremcote on purpose?”
“No.” He tugs at his breastplate as though it’s uncomfortably tight. “That’s the problem. If you were doing it on purpose, I’d understand. Terrible things happened to you in Bremcote. Unjust things a young girl should never have to endure. But it’s because youaren’twreaking havoc intentionally that has me worried. Some deep part of you—a piece you can’t control—is making these things happen.”
