His quill slipped from his hands as he looked at me with wide eyes. The beach was so deathly quiet, you could hear it clatter against the pebbles.
A figure pushed through the crowd, fastfootsteps crunching against the stones. A rough hand closed around my upper arm and yanked me to the side.
“Tell me my eyes are playing tricks on me, Lyra,” a familiar voice growled.
I looked up, locking onto pale green eyes filled with fury.
Hair the colour of darkly spilled blood, cropped short against his tanned skin, shadowed a face I didn’t think I would see again.
His hand lingered on my skin for a fraction of a second before he let me go, as if touching me burnt him.
“Orin,” I whispered. My hands shook at my sides, with the need to either slap him or embrace him, I wasn’t sure.
The last time I had seen him played in my mind countless times. When he had kissed me on the forehead before leaving my bed, he had obviously known he was leaving. I was only eighteen, but it was the closest thing I had ever felt to love.
“Youknewyou were going to Ascend!” I shoved my icy hands against his muscular chest. He grabbed them and held them together; I struggled in his grip.
“You can’t be here,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
My gaze swept over the crowd with wide, innocent eyes, then down the length of my exposed body before cutting back to him with a slow, deliberate smile. “It’s a bit fucking late for that.”
His face softened, as he dropped my hands and wrapped his arms around my frozen body. I stilled for a moment before letting myself melt into his embrace. The scent of leather and steel overtook my senses, his heart beating against my ear. I nestled in closer.
“Gods help me, Lyra, this is no place for a Princess.” His voice was low, edged with something dangerously closeto desperation. Pulling away from me, he levelled a glare at the onlookers, who turned back towards the fire. The sound of talking filled the beach as they all returned to their conversations. Obviously Orin held some sort of power here.
“Lucky for me, I am not a princess anymore. I am an initiate,” I whispered, giving him a small smile.
He shook his head, eyes softening as he looked down at me, but I could see the truth in them.
Hurt filled me, but I squared my shoulders. I pierced him with my gaze, willing the tears to clear from my vision.
“A lot has changed since you left me?—”
“Left you?” His voice cracked as he interrupted me, eyebrows rising. He looked away, jaw tight, as if the sight of me was more than he could bear.
Before I could respond, a loud yell pulled my attention back to the Dead Sea.
Angry waves swirled and crashed, aggressively pulling at the initiate trying to make his way through the shallows.
Riven waded onto the shore with grace, slamming his fist in the air.
“Fuck yes!” he exclaimed.
Riven’s thick eyebrows raised in question, studying me like a riddle he wanted to solve. His gaze flicked back over his shoulder to the cliffs rising in the distance, as if measuring the impossible path I must have taken to reach the shore before him. He gave his name to the Iron Guard before walking over to me.
“Howdidyou get here before me, princess?” Riven ran a hand through his brown, unruly hair, pushing back the damp strands plastered to his forehead. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Did you like my flip?”
Riven grinned with light-hearted mischief, slingingan arm around my shoulders as if we had known each other for years.
He barely had time to steer me a few steps away before Orin’s hand slashed out, ripping Riven’s arm off me and twisting it behind his back.
“You do not touch the princess,” Orin snarled, his grip tightening.
Riven winced theatrically under Orin’s grip.
“Strong grip, soldier. Do you practice on your own?” Riven hissed through his teeth with pain but widened his smirk.
Orin’s grip tightened, drawing a low, deliberate groan from Riven. He shot me a wink, and he leant into Orin’s body.
