Maybe this was the past haunting me, but every time I looked at Lyrae, doubt infected me like a poison. Fear became a dark and bottomless sea, and I closed my hand tighter around her delicate wrist, not holding her back any longer, buthanging on.
Like she was my anchor andIwas the one who was drowning.
Like she was savingme.
I should never have brought her to this place. This was the disastrous Maldrake job all over again, this was me, risking her life for a bit of gold, when Lyrae was the only thing that had ever mattered. And I’d fucking brought her here, surrounded by enemies I couldn’t even see, risking the woman I loved like I hadn’t learned my lesson.
I wanted to take her someplace safe and lock her up, keep her behind a spelled, unbreachable door, because she was the most precious thing in the world.
Her pulse raced beneath my finger, body softening when I pulled her close enough to see her pupils dilate, tongue rimming her bottom lip nervously.
No, I was taking no fucking chances when it came to Lyrae.
Finally, Varian nodded. “This is a good spot, I can access my power.”
“Then take us back to Frostveil, Varian.”
When he took her other hand, a cold wind swept us all away.
24
RYLAND
Ireleased a breath when our boots hit the frozen, muddy bank, when I knew Lyrae was reasonably safe, and the tension in my chest finally stopped crushing my heart like a vise. Even the familiar limey smell of the island was a welcome contrast to the choking atmosphere of Gravespire.
“We need a plan,” Lyrae, already in motion, paced away along the icy shoreline. “We know where the Triune is, but that room…”
“…isn’t just impenetrable,” Varian cut in. “It’s a trap. If we force our way through the ward, we’ll trigger every defense surrounding that temple. Gravelock’s soldiers will be on us before we ever touch one of the artifacts.”
I stared out over the unbroken expanse of ice extending all the way to the mainland, formulating my argument for her never going back to Gravespire. What I really needed to do was put her under lock and key so she couldn’t go anywhere at all, but she’ddefinitelycarve off my balls.
“What we really need is time,” I said. “If Gravespire was left unguarded today, even for a few minutes…” I looked to Varian.
“I could, potentially, get inside that room if I knew what kind of magic I was dealing with,” Varian hedged. “I’d needtime to disarm the ward, of course, or bypass the door altogether without triggering an alarm, gather up the artifacts… I mean, how much could they possibly weigh? With no guards posted, we could…”
A brisk wind ruffled the hair on the back of my neck, carrying a foul, unnatural odor, reeking like brimstone. “Do you smell that?” My sword hissed out of my sheath. “Grimbeasts?”
“Too foul,” Varian whispered, scanning the desolate island, the ice, the sheer walls of the castle as we ducked down behind a pile of tumbled rocks. “This is something else.”
“Look. There.” Lyrae crouched lower, pointing at the wide-open doors to the castle, the muddy track leading inside. Twenty sets of boots, maybe more. A dagger appeared in her hand from out of nowhere. “I’m going in, getting a better look.”
Without a backward glance—or permission—she stalked away.
“You are not,” I hissed, lunging forward, intent on dragging her back, but she was too damn fast, slipping between my fingers like smoke. Then we were sidling along the castle’s wall, until we reached those flung-open doors.
“Don’t you dare go in there, Lyrae. It’s too dangerous.”
“Bothof you stay here. I’ll go see what Rooke’s doing. Back in a minute.” Varian hissed, then vanished.
“Since when do you tell me what I can or cannot do, Ryland Storme?” Lyrae hissed, poking me in the sternum with her blade. Hard. “Since when does Varian’s life mean less than mine?”
“Since right the fuck now,” I grit out, going toe to toe with her. “Since we’ve already lost you once and the thought of losing you again…” I cut myself off before I sounded stark raving mad. “It’s too dangerous,” I repeated stubbornly.
For a moment she considered me, head tipped to the side, that long, black braid draped over one shoulder, the wind picking strand after strand of black hair free. Out here, with the pale gray sky overhead, her eyes turned the color of ice chips, a pale blue, cold enough to freeze, rimmed by thick, black lashes.
“Did you know I was on the dais when Raziel killed the Shadow King?” She stepped closer, tipping her chin up to hold my stare, one hand winding into my shirt, twisting the fabric tight around her fist.
Shoving me back against the wall. Hard.
