I stare at the two of them, Anrai’s friends,myfriends. Cal shuffles the food around his plate and Max has returned to shoveling forkfuls into her mouth. They are leaving the decision up to me, I realize. If I decide not to pursue Anrai, to go to Yen Girene with things as they are, the choice is mine.
I am bared. Only to you.
But relationships are more complicated than that. Myotherneeds me to nurture it when it is weak, to care for it when it was nothing more than a small trickle beneath me skin. It’s powerful, but it needs tending the same as the smallest blade of grass would. And maybe Anrai…maybe he needs the same thing. A reminder that though he is strong, he is never alone.
I stand up abruptly, the feet of the wooden chair scraping loudly against the floor.
My friends look up, Max’s eyes gleaming with something close to approval. “He’s at the cliff pond,” she says simply.
“Tell Rhonwen to save me some cake!” I yell over my shoulder as I take off toward the pond.
* * *
Shaw
The forest is quiet tonight, waiting with bated breath for the changing of the seasons. The hot whisper of summer is only days from pouring in off the Storven and there’s a soft pang at the reminder that I will miss it. After Yen Girene, I will accompany Mirren and Denver to Similis and by the time I make it back, the summer’s heat will be at its full height, baking Nadjaa and the surrounding mountains into a hazy stupor.
And I will be alone once more. The thought is both sobering and comforting. Mirren and Denver will be safely ensconced behind the Boundary, untouchable to the Praeceptor. And to me.
I throw myself down on the granite shore and stretch my legs. The bow I brought to practice with lies abandoned a few feet away. My limbs have burned for days with a restlessness I’ve been unable to quell. It isn’t the same electricity that runs through me before every mission, the one that hones my body and sharpens my mind. This is one sparks unexpectedly, untethering my thoughts and twisting them into a disquieted mess. No amount of training or research has calmed them.
I finally gave up and sprinted to the pond under the guise of bow practice. I almost laugh out loud that I’ve now started lying even when there’s no one else around to hear.
It isn’t practice. It’s hiding.
I run the blades of shore grass between my fingers, grass that only days before, Mirren’s body lay on. Her power drenches the place; the trees, the grass, the water. The very air sparkles with it. The pond grove is now alive the same way she is, shining and radiant.
If avoiding thinking about her is my goal, the pond grove was a terrible idea. Then again, it doesn’t seem to matter where I am. She’s in everything I touch, every movement of my body, every ray of every sunrise. I’ve been creeping around the manor like a wraith and still, on the rare occasion that she rounds a corner unexpectedly, the air drags from my lungs and something inside me burns wildly, urging me to touch her, to damn the consequences and take her as mine.
Hiding is better. I only need to survive one more night and then we’ll be on the road. Closer to her father and closer to her leaving forever.
“Anrai?”
Shit.
I spring to my feet, heart pounding savagely in my chest. She’s there, curls untied, and feet bare as if she sprinted to me unexpectedly. As if I conjured her. She’s clad in soft leggings and a sweater, the cloak I bought her thrown haphazardly around her shoulders. Her alabaster skin glows in the moonlight and gods, I want to touch it.
Make her leave. If you want her safe, she needs to be far away from you.
I train my face into one of boredom. “Do you need something?”
Her eyes flash with anger, but its quickly replaced by something akin to determination. “Yes,” she says, stepping toward me, “I do need something.”
I tense in anticipation and fear and haven’t decided which will win out when she steps toward me again. I’m reminded of our first entanglement when I challenged her and she held her ground, refusing to cede a step to the monster that had kidnapped her out of the darkness. The spot where she drove her knife, though healed, still tinges. A reminder of her bravery. “What is it?” I ask coldly.
She doesn’t even flinch, meeting my gaze head on. She closes the space between us, and I try to hold my breath, but her scent swirls around me. It is fresh and crisp like a spring rain, and unable to control myself, I fill my lungs with it. I watch, half agony, half hope as she reaches toward me, her intention burning clearly in her eyes.
“Mirren,” I warn roughly.
Her gaze doesn’t falter as she raises a hand to my face. Her body presses closer to mine as she stretches to reach and her fingers trail lightly over the stubble of my jaw and down the lines of my neck. I should be alarmed at how quickly my body sparks, like the hot snap of flint against steel, but instead I savor it, feeding it until it ignites. My hands find her waist and I pull her toward me until her hips are flush with mine.
Our lips meet and I am satiated, the thirst that has burned for days finally quenched. Her lips are soft and warm beneath mine, and I lose myself in them. My fragmented thoughts come together. It is her, only her, that brings the pieces of myself together. That lights the empty corners and soothes the remaining fractions of my soul.
Her hands never stop moving, exploring the muscles of my back, and then running down my arms. Always insistent, always pulling,closer, closer, closer.How did I ever think to live apart from her, drifting aimlessly in my Darkness, overcome by my abyss? She is the beginning and the end, the ocean that washes everything else away.
Her hands drift further up my chest, until they are planted firmly above my heart. On the knot of gnarled scar tissue, a stark reminder of everything at stake. My blood freezes and I leap from her as if I’ve been scalded.
She is all that matters, and you wish to blacken her with your curse? Get her killed?
