But I don’t let go.
Not as The Devourer’s severe grasp grips to my arms.
Not as the fog looms directly over head, and not until we haul Caym, soiled and muddied, up over the ledge of the embankment.
Because though I might feel insignificant, I am not weak.
Chapter 18
Alora
The only thing fueling me this morning as we endure another dreary, drizzly sunrise is getting to the village that marks our halfway point.
Though it doesn’t have an official name, we’ve nicknamed it Treach, short for treacherous. The mind—numbing ride to get to it is nothing short of its namesake due to the rugged terrain and the questionable company that resides among the woods, phantom or foe.
I rub my sore eyes with my balled fists and move to stretch the kinks from my stiff neck and crammed shoulders.
I took the lead today, leaving Leeson and Caym to ride behind me. It was a miracle we had been able to wake Leeson after she’d been knocked out. The scrapes from the thorny bushes marred her porcelain skin and remained today. She wasn’t willing to waste her magic on herself after she saw the state Caym was in.
She healed him quickly, and then the four of us were somehow able to drag the fallen horse out of the sinking sand with the help from the two other horses after The Devourer searched for and retrieved Lees’ horse.
Caym had then walked off with The Devourer while Lees and I stoked a fire and settled in for the night. When the men came back, the moods had shifted. Caym had taken off The Devourer’s culling bands, shocking me until I was sure it was another trick of my mind. Perhaps The Devourer had proven himself after all.
The skies feel lighter today, even now as we ride. Kina happily flies in front of us, cawing excitedly and squawking as she finds little treats on the lowlying bushes full of ripe rosehips and burlburries.
Anticipation eats away at my insides like maggots writhing within a corpse. I might as well be one myself because of the exhaustion that has settled in after yesterday.
I’d beg you to let me sink my teeth in while you clawed back.
The green—eyed devil’s words continue to shove to the front of my thoughts. Though, the one that repeats the most and causes me to face cold realizations is another reason I slept very little.
It’s a cruel joke, us being on separate sides of fate.
Separate sides of fate.
My foolish heart had started to question if the goddess and fates had taken pity on me and had willedsomethingdifferent for me.
But no, my fate had been written in the stars eons ago when I vowed to avenge my family.
The Devourer’s fingers fidget in my back. He hasn’t dared to touch my waist again.
The rain starts sprinkling down heavier, the drops growing in size and frequency, eventually leading to a steady downpour.
My icy fingers grab my damp, woolen hood, giving it a shake before pulling it on and drawing it down low to cover most of my forehead. In my haste this morning, I left my leather gloves somewhere at the last campsite. I’d sooner fall to my knees with the promise of a warm bath and bed.
I flex the stiff joints on my hand and quickly tuck them back into my sleeves, letting the fabric drape longer than it should. I know Dahla is disciplined enough to keep to the trail, so I let the leather leads hang around the saddle horn.
A throat clears behind me and The Devourer begins to speak low, “To answer your question from yesterday, my inked mark was not something I took willingly.”
The confession nearly knocks me off Dahla, the feeling like I’d just taken a bucket of ice water over my head. I definitely didn’t expect him to talk about anything from yesterday, but especially anything regarding himself.
“Not taken willingly?” I ask slowly.
“It’s not that I think inked skin is something to be ashamed of, many villages in the Eastern Kingdom have them as marks of their accomplishments.”
I hadn’t realized. Ink markings were not something I had seen in Noxia very often, rarely even. I can count on one hand the number of people with marks.
“So what does it mean, Devourer?”
