Asterious never stopped looking at her, the wind blowing his hair over his forehead as he watched her from his stallion, waiting for her to go on. When she didn’t, he said. “Rumors and assumptions are wicked things. And speaking from experience, I’ve found it’s often people who’ve known you all your life that can be the most merciless of all.”
Her jaw tightened. “But what about when the rumors aren’t all wrong? What about when there’s some truth mixed in, and you start to have trouble differentiating truth from the lies about yourself?”
“Then treat their misunderstandings like questions and answer them. Show them who you really are, so it leaves no room for doubt in their mind—or yours. Then let them decide if they still want to be cruel or indifferent. And if they are, then, let them choke on the truth they chose to ignore.” She glanced at him, surprised at how deeply she’d felt his words.
“You seem to have an easy time doing that. You seem to have numbed yourself to everything,” she sighed.
“Not everything,” the prince exhaled, swinging a leg over his horse to dismount. “I still haven’t quite figured out a way to keep you from getting under my skin.” He laughed, walking over to her and giving friendly tap on her boot as he looked up her. “Come on. There’s a spot with a view best traversed on foot.”
Then he stretched his hand up. She didn’t need to take it. She could dismount just fine on her own. She hesitated, the perfect picture of the war in her mind right before her. This prince reaching for her, and her pulling away, failing to believe there was a kind of reach that wasn’t meant to hurt her.
He blinked and his mouth twitched, a small dimple forming where he sucked in the corner of his cheek. “I know you don’t need my help. I know you don’t need me or any of this, or anyone here. I don’t offer my help in small ways in effort to diminish your capabilities. I do it to show you, that despite what you believe, you are not alone.”
The admission lingered between them, fragile as glass. She wanted to say something, but instead she stared at his outstretched hand, convincing herself that if she showed him her true self—if she gave him even the faintest glimpse into her past—he would yank that hand away.
“What are you so afraid of?” he asked, his voice a gentle, steady haven in the chaos of the wind and waves crashing below.
The truth. Of herself. She almost said it out loud. But instead, she took his hand, and swung a leg over so that her boots touched the ground. And she cocked her head with a smirk. “That you’re leading me to my death. How do I know you aren’t going to push me over this ledge?”
“Because if you truly believed I might do that, you wouldn’t be here with me now.” His tone wasn’t playful. It was warm. Certain. Safe.
Leaving the horses behind, they walked to the cusp of the ledge, where the cliffs spilled down to churning turquoise waters below. The sea was so vastly different from the forest, and yet in some ways, it was very much the same. It could feel infinite, and it could claimed who it wanted, and no one could stop it. It did not rage without reason, nor was it merciful just because it was beautiful.
But like the woods, where sometimes there was a patch of glade where everything felt peaceful and soft, there were no doubt places on this shore where the wind did not batter the tide against the rocks so harshly, where the water stilled and bubbled in secret tidepools, gently, peacefully. There were always hidden places beneath the raging dangers that offered sanctuary. One simply had to find them.
Something lush and crimson caught her eye beneath the wild shrubs sprouting from the ledge. She knelt down to examine the batch of thorny blooms and their tiny bulb-like petals. “Blood Briar,” she muttered under her breath.
“What’s wrong?” The concern in Asterious’ voice almost made her giggle.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, carefully plucking a flower and standing up to show him. “It’s just a type of plant I’ve read about in apothecary books. They’re very rare. And tend to grow in rather harsh conditions. I’ve just…never seen one before.” She offered it to him.
Asterious took the bloom, studying it, careful of its tiny sharp thorns. “Rare things are often the most remarkable,” he said, voice low. “What are they used for?”
“They’re good for ailments of the blood, as the name suggests. They can slow down bleeding and temporarily suppress the effects of poisons and blood curses. Highly sought by medics.”
A smile flickered across Asterious’ face as he handed the red flower back to her. She tucked it away into her dress pocket, where the Shadowblood’s letter nearly slipped out, but as Asterious went on, he didn’t seem to notice. “You study plants. You tame ravens. You’re a natural rider. You notice the world around you. And you might just be the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”
His eyes lingered on her, and she blushed at the terrifying sensation that she might want to feel his touch, desperate toredirect the conversation to something that felt less…personal. “Speaking of fascinating things, you asked me what I was reading when you came to find me this morning,” she said. “I…found a letter…in the library. From a Shadowblood named Morveth. Did you know of him?”
At Asterious’ intrigued expression, she reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out the folded letter, handing it to him. She watched patiently as he read it quietly, and then read it again.
“Morveth…” the prince repeated, looking out to the sea. “I can’t recall the name. But his letter implied he had a fellow ambassador representing his people to the Lightborn and human courts when necessary. That would’ve made him a High Shadowblood.” His eyes slide back to the paper in his hand. “Why would a letter from him be in the library?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I think someone tried to hide it.”
“Well,” he muttered, bringing a hand to his chin. “If someone hid this away, clearly the Lightborn had a traitor of their own in their midst. I suppose none of it matters now. But just think how it might’ve changed things if they’d listened.”
“There likely would’ve still been a war eventually, I suppose,” Caramyn said. “But it sounds like the Shadowbloods might’ve stood with the Lightborn. The humans wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
“It’s certainly surprising—fascinatingeven—that a Shadowblood would warn them.”
“Perhaps not all Shadowbloods were so…wretched.”
“Perhaps. Legend says their dark powers were a result of the darkness in their hearts during the Shattering…but maybe there was one better than the rest…or maybe thisMorvethhad something to gain.” His voice lowered. “The sad thing is there’s really no way to ever know the truth.”
“And that’s the worst thing about it,” Caramyn shook her head, still staring at the horizon. “Sometimes the truth…about the past, about who we are even…gets written for us and twisted before we even have a chance to find it for ourselves.”
Asterious flashed the faintest smile, specks of sea spray dusting his face. He folded the letter and handed it back to her. “Then we rewrite it. Refuse to be something you hate.”
