He flexed his jaw and flared his nostrils, as though trying to cage the next words as he held her gaze through those eyes holding back an ocean. Then his hands slid from her shoulders, and Caramyn could have sworn they were trembling.
“Caring deeply is exactly the reason I must stay away from you. The feel of your skin ignites me in ways I cannot explain. Your touch is a relentless pull toward tragedy. I cannot risk what could happen if I were to…to…lose myself.” He glanced down at her lips with hunger in his eyes. “I must protect you—Iwillprotect you. And that means even from myself. I’ve lost my mother. I’ve lost everyone I ever cared about. I will not lose you, too.”
Asterious went back to brushing the horse, and Caramyn stood, something in her shattering like ice. “The Shadowblood’s Blade can save you. I believe it has to. If it’s enough to pull Sinevia from the darkness, it can surely save you.”
“Maybe it can. Maybe it can’t…but Zera was right. If I killonemore time, whether in this form or the other, the chance will be gone. For me, for Sinevia, and for Evylere. There is no more room for risk.”
Caramyn searched the furthest reaches of her mind for something to say, for anything she could possibly grasp to counter what he said, but deep in her heart of hearts, beyond the shadows that shrouded her own soul, she knew he wasn’t wrong. If they ever allowed themselves to give in to that pull between them—to that abyss they both ached to fall into—it could destroy them both, along with the very kingdoms they were trying to save. And she would be the reason for it.
It only made sense. She was a Shadowblood. And Shadowbloods always brought ruin.
“You’re right.” It was all she could manage to get out. “I’ll go help pack. And don’t worry,” she said, her voice tired and heavy with so many unspoken thoughts. “I’ll tie my own hands up this time.”
And she turned away, leaving footprints in the snow as she trudged with slow, half-hearted steps back to the tent.
When they’d packed enough dried meats and bread for the journey, and a few extra coats and cloaks, Zera and Narahbi sent them off with gentle, heartfelt goodbyes.
Zera reached in for an embrace and wrapped her withering arms around Caramyn in a way that reminded her of the warmth and comfort of her mother. Then she handed her the unstrung bow.
And as they loaded Caramyn onto the horse, wrists loosely bound and her cloak hood pulled over as far as it would go, she addressed Asterious one last time. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you. I hope you can forgive me.”
Asterious, silent and somber, dipped his head towards her in a nod. “The Shadows have a way of tempting the best of us. You were only trying to save me. I forgive you for that.”
Zera sniffed, dabbing a tear at the corner of her eye. And then, just before they turned away to take their first step out into the mountains of the Spires alone, she paused, drawing a steady breath as though this might be the last kindness she could offer. “My final words to you both—the darkness that marks you does not define you. What you do in spite of it, does.”
Caramyn uttered the delicate syllables of the Silverean word of gratitude. “Inejiah. Thank you for everything, Zera. Truly.”
And then they set off for the mountain pass, Nocthar flying above and leading the way.
48
Captain Veylan
Caramyn
The harbor was quiet as the dawn crawled in. The journey down the mountain had been uneventful as Asterious led the sure-footed gelding down the icy, crooked path for hours through the grueling slog that had taken the entire night to complete. Even the horse seemed to let out a sigh of relief when they reached the bottom.
“How do we find Veylan?” Caramyn whispered, slipping out of her bonds and sliding down from the horse, her frozen legs nearly shattering when her feet hit the ground.
They took the bags they could carry and released the animal. Then they hid, ducking behind some crates on the docks.
“The better question is how do we even know he’s here?” Asterious grumbled as he peeked around the frost-covered crate. “There are two fishing boats moored, but if we pick the wrong one, we’re in trouble. A hated Blackwynd royal traveling with the Frostlord's assassin will get some attention if whoever is on the boat recognizes us.”
“So, what do we do?”
A sudden voice from the shadows gave them the answer they needed. “Ask someone who can help you.” A brazen, but familiar voice startled Caramyn from behind. She whirled around to see a cloaked figure.
“Brenn?”
He lifted his hood to reveal those warm, caramel eyes. “I took the next hire on a boat passing through here—don’t worry, not more smugglers. Just a spice merchant.” He flashed a strange half-smile. “I hoped we’d cross paths again. I presume you escaped and you’re safe with...” and then shot a cold glance at Asterious, a questioning look.
“Prince Asterious Blackwynd.” Asterious unfolded from his crouched position behind the crates and stood to his feet. “And exactly who are you?”
“This is Brenn,” Caramyn stated, standing up between them. “He was on the ship that brought me here. He’s a healer, and he also helped me make the elixir that I gave the Frostlord.”
The prince eyed the cloaked man up and down, as if he was trying to determine whether he was looking at a venomous snake or a harmless one, and he secretly hoped it was venomous so that he could have an excuse to crush it. “I’d not be so not quick to put much faith in a man found working on a ship withpeopleas cargo.” Asterious growled.
“Nor would I be so quick to trust a man whose kingdom allows it.” Brenn’s eyes narrowed.
