“Elvish horses choose only one master in their lives. It forms a bond that binds us in a way where I simply comprehend him and he comprehends me.” Rawn gathered his long blond hair and tied it back with a thin strip of leather, pulling it away from his pointed ears. “But I take it you wished to discuss something else. It is unusual that you should seek me out.”
Zev hid a grimace. He really hadn’t been kind to Rawn.
“I … I owe you an apology, Lord Norrlen.” He dropped his gaze to the long grass, watching it undulate in the wind. “I have been short with you, and it was undeserved. I selfishly resisted handing you the position of Guidelander when God of Urn knows we would have avoided several troubles if I had only listened to you.” Exhaling heavily, he admitted, “It was nothing you did. I merely wanted to be the one Dyna turned to for guidance. Until now, it had always been us, and I didn’t know how to make room for others.”
“I understand,” Rawn said, nodding to his horse. “For the last twenty years, I had no one in my company but Fair. It has certainly been an interesting change to go from a group of two to six.”
Zev smirked at that. “I think you mean tiresome.”
Rawn smiled. “Perhaps.”
“Well, I’m sorry for my part in it. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to say so, not when my stubbornness nearly killed you.”
There was no judgment on Rawn’s face, no resentment, no anger. The elf only looked at him with an open kindness Zev didn’t deserve.
“I’ll no longer impede your decisions. She didn’t say it, but Dyna chose you as our leader, and it’s time I respect that.”
“Then the fault of what occurred at the fjord lies with me as well,” Rawn said. “Every choice a leader makes is to the benefit or the detriment of those in the group. I failed to conduct proper guidance, and it led to nearly losing my life. However, you dove into those infested waters at your own risk and made sure I survived. For that, I am grateful.”
“I have enough blood on my hands. I couldn’t have yours too. Is that strange, hearing it from a predator whose first nature is to kill?”
“No.” Rawn rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Even soldiers tire of taking lives.”
Zev curled his clawed fingers, the points as sharp as any blade. “Death is constantly lurking, snuffing the lives of anyone it wishes except those who deserve it.”
Each of the Seven Gates had a god, and he was the most familiar with the God of Death. It mocked him, lurking within the shadows, waiting to strike everyone but him. That was his comeuppance. He dreaded the end of the day, for those thoughts kept sleep at bay. Beneath the moon, all that was good faded, leaving the past where it was moored inside of him.
“There are things in life in which we have no say,” Rawn said, searching the starry sky. “The coming of death is one of them. We may never know why it happens for some and not for others. All we can do is strive to live each day we are given to the fullest and leave the world a better place once we are gone.”
Was that possible for someone like him with a rabid beast inside? He couldn’t control the Other, let alone the Madness. If there was a way, maybe the Druid would know.
“Thank you for the wisdom, Lord Norrlen,” Zev said. “But I don’t think it’s possible to truly live when I spend my days fighting myself.”
Rawn fixed his turquoise gaze on him in a way that seemed to see beyond the scarred layers. “If I may share one more piece of wisdom? Cease to fight yourself, Zev. There are many battles we must face in our lifetime, but fighting against one’s nature is a battle already lost.”
Chapter 31
Dynalya
Dyna inhaled the crisp air to steady the nerves fluttering in her chest. A swath of pink and orange sky met a sea of blue with the dawn. She forced her expression to remain blank and kept each step even as she walked through the dewy grass.
Cassiel waited in a field coated in frost some distance away from the camp. Six feet of lean muscle, profile strong and steady. His wings fluttered gently in the mild wind where he stood in the gray shadow of the forest, out of the sun’s reach. He’d rolled the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, exposing the planes of his forearms that had caged her yesterday. The ring on the chain around his neck caught the light. Lush blue stone nestled in a simple but intricate weaving of silver.
His stare slowly roved over the leather armor she wore. It clung to her body like a second skin. Rawn had given her the armor last night after he’d made a trade for it in the fae market while searching for the Druid. The armorer had enchanted it to give the wearer quicker reflexes. Good, she would need that.
Cassiel’s gaze dragged down her body to her feet, then back to her face. He cleared his throat. “Dyna, about last night—”
She attacked. He lurched, scarcely parrying her knife.
“What are you—”
She pivoted and came for him again. Their knives crashed.
“Dyna, I should never have—” He dodged her blade before it took his nose. His eyes widened. “—touched you that way.”
Sunlight glinted off the edge of her knife as she slashed for his gut, missing by a fraction.
She bared her teeth, her pulse thrumming. “Stop. Talking.”
