Chapter
Thirty-Five
HAVEN
With my eyes itching with fatigue and my ability to remain upright in question, I’d asked Teal to build me a cot out of vines.
He’d ignored Grayson’s derisive snort and, with a wave of his hand, coaxed vines from the frozen earth and knitted them into a narrow cot. He’d even managed to make it comfortable. With my ability to call objects no longer a secret, I’d called a pillow and the quilt from my bed at Grandmother’s. Between the quilt, the new cloak, and Flynn’s fire, I was actually warm. I should have been able to sleep. Instead, I’d dozed fitfully for a few hours. Now fully awake, I stared at Teal’s vine ceiling and pondered his question. Why had I saved them?
It didn’t matter how handsome they were; they were still the men who’d ripped me from the only home I’d ever known. The men who’d failed to stand up for me. The men who’d left me to die from dehydration in Carron’s pit.
So why had I saved their lives?
Because I couldn’t stand by and watch them die. The realization grated.
Arguably, my life would be better without them. Yet I manifested swords and fought mythical creatures to keep them safe. Meanwhile, they’d left me with a sketchy innkeeper who’d sold tickets to rape me.
I’d begged Teal and Flynn to come and help me as I fought the assassins. They’d ignored me. Only Pierce, the one man I hadn’t saved, had come.
He’d also helped me call the cloak. Without it, I’d have frozen.
Flynn snored softly.
I swung my feet to the ground, wrapped my cloak more tightly around me, and stood.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Grayson’s low voice held a thousand unspoken accusations. Did I plan on running away? Joining the rebels? Betraying him?
“I can’t sleep.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“We both know you’re taking me to my death. Do you have to be such an asshole about it?”
He reared back as if I’d slapped him.
“Shields last a few months, then you burn us out and leave us to die.”
He didn’t bother denying it. “How do you know that?”
“You think the girls don’t talk? All those girls you treat like the dirt beneath the soles of your feet, they know they’re expected to die for you. And you thank them with your derision. And that’s if they’re lucky. If they’re not lucky, they’re raped or abused before they die. Hell of a system you have going.”
“The guard keeps Legacia safe.” He sounded so confident, utterly convinced of his idiocy.
“Do they?” Sarcasm dripped from my voice. “Seems to me, they keep men safe. Women in Legacia are at constant risk.”
We glared at each other for long seconds before he said, “Enough talking.”
I snickered.
“You may not need sleep, but my brothers are exhausted. Be quiet.”
I desperately needed sleep. Exhaustion hung on my shoulders like a mantle. I rubbed my tired eyes and wished for the umpteenth time that I could turn off my brain. “I do need sleep.”
“Why are you up?” Clearly, he expected an answer.
“Because, when I close my eyes, I see wraiths with long bony fingers ready to draw my soul from my body, wolven with razor-sharp claws and too many teeth, and a wyvern with venom dripping from its maw.” Truth and lies. There was also the memory of Pierce’s lips on mine, the sharp sting of his rejection. The vexing question of my attraction to men who treated me poorly. I deserved better than that.
A low rumble echoed from somewhere outside our shelter. I tilted my head, listening. I’d never been in a snowstorm before. Was that thunder? “Is there?—”
