“I didn’t know what to do,” she said, voice quiet. “I saw we were falling, and I just…reacted. I threw out my hands. It was like my shadows were trying to protect me.”
I nodded. “Our magic knows what we need sometimes before we know ourselves. You’re strong, Devora. Your magic is powerful.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” I drawled.
Twisting at the waist, she grabbed the pommel and swung her leg around so she was no longer riding sidesaddle. The movement made her back press further into me, and I let out a grunt, instinctively tightening my grip onher waist.
She froze, back arched, hair spooling down one shoulder. My Shifter senses homed in on the sound of her heart picking up speed.
Something shifted between us, the air suddenly charged. My eyes fell shut for a moment as I strained to keep my hands away from her.
Fates, what waswrongwith me? Not three weeks ago, I hated this woman. Now here I was, smelling her hair and anxiously awaiting the moment we could get off this horse so I could forget the way her skin felt against mine.
I let out a breath, forcing my muscles to relax. The strange tension snapped, and Devora scooted forward in the saddle.
“I’m just glad everyone’s okay,” she said breathlessly. “You know, we were talking about something before the accident.” Her voice was hesitant, guarded. “Everett mentioned you were once one of Scarven’s prisoners.”
My spine straightened. “And?”
“And…” She cleared her throat nervously. “Well, I guess I wondered if it was true.”
“Yes, it’s true. It’s not a secret, Devora—I’m not going to rip your head off for talking about it.”
A small scoff left her. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming about your past.”
I shrugged. “You never asked.”
She twisted her neck. “Would you have told me anything if I did?”
“Probably not.”
A smile stretched across the half of her face I could see before she turned to the front again. “Glad to see some things haven’t changed. Well, maybe I’ve upgraded slightly. Now I’m a useful pawn.”
My hands tightened around the reins, causing my arms to push her closer to me. “You’re not a pawn, Devora.”
“Then what am I?”
“You…” I trailed off, my jaw clenching as I sifted through the myriad of confusing thoughts rushing in my mind. “You’re a Shadow Wielder,” I finally said.
That seemed to be good enough for her. She let out a soft hum, and in that moment, I wished for nothing but to see her face. Was she happy? Did having an identity make her blue-green eyes soften, her lips curve, her shoulders relax?
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “About what you went through with Scarven. I can’t even imagine.”
We fell into silence again, but I could tell she wanted to ask more. Devora wasn’t the kind to fall back when her curiosity took over. Her thighs clenched and unclenched around the saddle as her fingers played with the leather of the pommel.
She was always so quick to speak. Quick to try and make sense of the world around her. But now, she was quiet. A small part of me wondered if she was trying not to push too hard against the unspoken boundaries between us.
If she was trying, then I could too. Even if the thought of speaking about my past made my limbs lock.
“You can ask me, Devora,” I murmured. “I won’t bite.”
I couldn’t see it, but I could hear her swallow hard before she asked, “How did it happen? How were you…taken?”
A cold wind blew in, ruffling her hair against my neck. “I was fourteen. My father was the governor of Drakorum back then, but there was an uprising. People thought he and my mother had somehow illegally sired a dragon Shifter, which had been extinct up until I was born.”
I paused, knowing her well enough at this point to expect fifty questions flying through her head.
