He sighs, as if knowing this question would come up.
“That I cannot answer, little warrior. Though I wish I could.”
My traitorous heart thunders against my ribs, his use of the nickname has started to have that effect on me lately.
“It burned as if venom from a fire serpent was ripping into my flesh. I became numb to it.”
His continued confession has me tilting my head to hear the soft words easier as the rain pelts down.
“Though that pain isn’t the worst I have borne.” The last part is a whisper, barely audible.
The words strike me and I realize there is so much I don’t know about this man. And damnit, I can’t help but be enamored by him and his complexities.
“I know of those pains. The hurts that are so deep you withdraw so you don’t get lost to them. The all—consuming … agony.”
His hand slides up my side and squeezes, not painful but fierce, as if he’s letting me know he understands.
I drop my chin, my resolve threatening to break. My eyes sweep the forest floor, looking between fallen logs and ferns for any semblance of reprieve.
They catch on little white buds covered in frost, not quite bloomed bells. Another ice dagger to my heart.
Good.I can’t allow the frozen tundra of my soul to thaw and sprout, only to be consumed by fire or drought of disappointment.
As we round a thicket of trees, a meadow clearing comes into view. The path to Treach opens wide and an unusual silence is all that’s heard. An eerie buzz crackles in the air, a warning from the gods.
Dahla’s muscles seem to stiffen as the village emerges from the horizon. I pull up her reins, stopping Dahla and quickly turn to look behind me, searching for Caym. His horse comes around the thicket and by the expression worn on his face, he can sensemy concern. His brows are knitted together tightly and his gaze shadowed.
My focus shifts to The Devourer. His eyes close, leaving only little slits, and his mouth twists as if he’s in pain. His hands quickly jump up to rub around his neck.
Looking closer, the marks seem to glow, as if the shadowy stain is emboldened to get darker and more prominent. The shadows rage and pulse, as if they’re constricting around his throat even more than they already were. I study them and the markings look as if they could break free from his skin, turning the surrounding skin an angry red.
“Kassiel? What’s wrong?” I feel small again, helpless. Like I’m watching my childhood home burn with my family inside.
The world seems to tilt for a moment as I watch Caym urge his horse faster to reach us.
It’s all happening too fast, but too slow at the same time. To my horror, I witness The Devourer’s face contort into true suffering and his tanned skin blanches of color. He groans, quite loudly—the man who’s kept any complaint this whole trek to himself, it’s alarming. He makes gagging sounds and his hands twitch and seize while his eyes begin to roll.
All the while, Caym’s horse can’t make it fast enough to me as the man who’s been our captive,my captive, starts to slide off sideways.
I instinctively grab for his arms, but I can’t get a true grip.
“Caym!” I scream his name, wishing he was already closer.
My grip slips and I can’t help but lethimfall from Dahla.
He crashes onto the slick ground and begins to claw at his neck.
Jumping from Dahla, I look to Caym and then back at our captive. “Something is wrong.”
That unsettling buzz in the air continues, flaying my nerves open. Dread blooms in my chest and I look back at where wecame from, waiting to see Leeson come around the concealed trail.
The Devourer makes another sickening gag, the air choking from his lungs.
I fall to my knees, soiling my skirts further in the thick mud and grab the writhing man’s face.
“Kassiel, open your eyes.”
He grips my hands with his, holding onto them as if they’re an answered prayer or a salve to the hurt.
