But he has a name. And I know it.
How many hundreds of times has his name fallen from my lips?
He turns from my touch and pulls my hand away, placing it on the bed. The air between us pulls taut with a strangeness. Something more than general discomfort. Something like inquietude.
“When you’re fully healed,” he says, clearing his throat, “we need to have a chat about the specifics of our deal. It won’t be much longer. Then, when it’s over, you’re free to roam this wide world as you wish.”
I just nod. There’s no argument to be had when you already know the outcome of a decision made. I’m going to open the world like a knife through time.
And change an old friend’s life forever.
18
ALEXUS
Northland Break
Gravenna Mountains, North Side
* * *
For the next week, we travel down the Northland Break toward the Gravenna Mountains, outrunning storms and stopping only for short rests.
Fleurie and Colden are still imprisoned, Fleurie’s agonizing healing indeed causing an obvious delay in the prince’s plans. Each day, Raina checks the waters three times, and each night, I thank my old friend for the reprieve she’s given us, my heart sick to know she still suffers.
I also dream. Mostly of my time as a student and later headmaster of the School of Night and Dawn. But sometimes I dream of dying alongside Colden, and other times I dream of Fleurie—our secret rendezvous when we were young, fighting on the training fields once we were older, our days and nights chained to those horrific cliffs.
Sometimes I even see her coming for me, holding out her familiar hand. If the prince means to use her to find me, if he tricked her into a deal, then she must deliver or forfeit whatever she bargained. Likely her freedom. Which means she and I could end up in a very difficult position.
Raina dreams as well. Of the prince. Of her parents. Of Finn. Of me. She sleeps with Nephele now, to prevent more hot blood between me and Finn. But through the bond, we share every dream. Sometimes the effect is miniscule. Sometimes it’s emotional and difficult. Other times I wake hard as a hilt, aching to be inside her. Then there are times that wound as deeply as any knife.
I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t envy Finn the time he’s had with Raina. Time he wasted. Time that I might never get.
But we travel on. And I keep breathing.
By the time we reach the Gravenna foothills a handful of days later, our food stores have dwindled. The scattered homesteads between the loch and the mountains offered meager supplies given that the valley’s four main trading villages and their harvests are now gone. We’ve only a week and a half of travel left, through the mountain pass and on toward Malgros. But we won’t make it unless we find more food.
After we build our nightly fire, it’s decided that we must hunt, even though the area’s main food source comes from the mighty Great Horn, the very beasts Warek and Silver Hollow’s hunters had been pursuing when their village was attacked. It’s a task Finn, Joran, and I quietly volunteer to take on while Raina, Nephele, and Helena clean up before we dine on mushed meal.
Come dawn, the three of us meet by the banked fire with our horses. Rhonin is there too, his hair unbraided and pulled back in a tail, bow and quiver in hand.
“I know a few women who won’t be happy when they find out I let the three of you go off into the mountains together. With weapons, no less. I’m already on their shit list.”
Finn buckles a thigh sheath around his leg, replete with two hunting knives, and straps on his quiver. “We’re the best hunters in the bunch.” His dusky face remains impassive. “It only makes sense.”
“And I’ve no fear of a fiery wench,” Joran says as he attaches two wound ropes to his saddle so we can drag the beasts from the wood. “Nephele Bloodgood holds no sway over me.”
Nephele might not have held sway over Joran before we left Hampstead Loch, but now, something has shifted in the way he looks at her. They bicker every godsdamn second, but the moment her stomach grumbled last night, he decided he was in on the hunt.
“Fiery wench?” Rhonin says. “I dare you to say that to her face.” With a snort-laugh, he hands me his quiver. “I’m more fearful of them than any of you bastards. Hel will have my balls strung from her belt.”
Without breaking a smile, Finn says, “I don’t think that’s where my sister wants your balls, Rho. Lucky for you, I guess.”
Rhonin’s face flames as he rests his brawny hands on his hips. “Just try not to kill each other. For my sake.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Purposefully, I unfurl a sly grin. “The three of us are becoming fast friends. Can’t you tell?”
I peer at Joran who’s already glaring at me, then I look at Finn. He grabs his bow, bracing it against his foot as he strings it. Every movement is so familiar and practiced that his eyes remain on me the entire time, narrowed and hardened with bitterness he pretends he doesn’t feel.
