I held my breath, bracing for the explosion. But it didn’t come.
Riven clapped loudly and a few of the surrounding warriors joined in.
Caelum appeared at my side, silent until his eyes caught the faint pulse of the blade. “It is imbued,” he stated slowly. His brow furrowed as though trying to solve a puzzle he hadn’t seen in centuries. He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he slid a finger over the darker lines etched through my magic.
“Are you adamant that you have only absorbed two Soul Relics?”
“Yes,” I said carefully. He hummed in thought, his gaze assessing me. I had absorbed the axe,one to wield.The crown,one to wear.I hadn’t dreamt of the third,one that bridges two broken hearts.My eyes widened, flashing to the Mark of Anamryn on my left hand. The bond. The final piece, it was in the Commander the whole time.
“Again,” Caelum said, oblivious to the questions flying through my head.
I losttrack of how many swords I imbued. They stacked behind me like offerings, each one glowing faintly, humming with my power. My limbs dragged. My breath came rough and uneven. Still, I reached for another blade.
So much for just imbuing one. At some point, Solas had forced food into my hands and it sat like a stone in my stomach. The training yard was empty now, and the sunlight had dipped into late gold. Riven sat relaxed in the grass, his face tilted towards the sun as if it were an old friend. The sword dragged across the grass behind me. It felt heavier than the others, as if it carried my fatigue in its hilt.
“I advise that you stop,” Caelum said, voice low with warning. “Imbuement is different from ordinary burnout. You are not merely using your power—you are giving it. Ifyou exhaust yourself during imbuement, I am not certain even you would survive.”
“I’m not done yet,” The words came out hoarse. I wasn’t done. Icouldn’tbe done. Every sword imbued was one more chance to kill the monsters hunting me. One more chance to stop them tearing through villages. Through children. Sweat stung my eyes. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and curled my fingers tighter around the next blade. My magic barely stirred. I tried again, reaching deeper. It slipped through my grasp like wet sand.
“I hate myself for saying this,” Riven muttered from where he lounged, arms draped over his knees, “but maybe you should listen to the mage.”
Solas paced uneasily but stayed silent. He wanted as many weapons as possible for his people as well.
I swayed on my feet, the world tilting around me. Caelum had told me to stop three swords ago, but stubbornness dug in like claws. I licked my dry lips before hauling the sword onto the stone with a grunt. Nausea rolled through me. The slab of rock was mercifully cold beneath my fingers as I braced myself against it. I reached for the swirling power in my chest and found nothing but an empty ache. A frustrated sound tore from my throat.
“C’mon, Princess,” Riven said, the edge of worry cutting through his usual drawl. “Come sit down.”
I ignored him and reached again. The magic slipped away, like I was trying to catch the tide with my bare hands. The ground rushed up to meet me. Grass cushioned my cheek, the scent of dirt and sweat and steel flooding my senses. The wind punched out of my lungs.
“For heaven’s sake,” Caelum muttered somewhere above me, boots crunching across the clearing. He knelt at my side, cool fingers brushing my temple. “Youare empty, aren’t you?” Caelum said, somewhere above me. “The only thing that can restore her magic is the ocean… or lust.”
His words drifted to me as if I were sinking underwater, despite my body being doused in scorching flames. It burnt through my veins, licking at my bones and chewing through whatever was left of me. My thoughts wouldn’t hold. They melted as soon as I reached them. The only constant was the burning, growing hotter, hungrier, like something inside me had finally found an excuse to consume me whole. My eyes closed without my permission.
“What do you think you are doing?” Solas snarled. His voice sounded far away, like it was coming through water.
“Saving her,” Riven said, voice low, breathless with determination. Warmth ghosted over my cheek. I barely had time to inhale before his lips pressed to mine.
Thirty-Eight
Threats
Warmth slammed into me like a wave as Riven’s mouth met mine. Soft and wrong, yet unbearably right. A spark flared under my skin. No,nota spark. A light.
His lust bled through the kiss, molten light rushing into the empty well in my chest.
The agony dulled. The world steadied. My fingers twitched. I gasped into him. He groaned as if the sound dragged him under.
The haze loosened, just enough for the horrifying truth to register: I was kissing him back, matching his hunger. It was like I’d been smothered and he was the oxygen bringing me back to life. I fisted his shirt, dragging him closer and clinging to him with desperation?—
Riven’s body jerked and his groan became a sharp, ragged sound, breaking the kiss.
My vision snapped into painful clarity just in time to see the hilt of a dagger jutting from his thigh.
Solas stood behind him, chest heaving, quiet fury crackling in every line of his body. “Get. Off. Her.”
He wrenched Riven backward by the collar. I slumped sideways into the grass, the world spinning again.
Black blood poured down Riven’s leg, a dagger was embedded to the hilt in his thigh.
