She clutches her chest as her terror makes it a struggle to breathe.
Sigvid cannot have caught up with me yet.There is still time to escape.
The courage to plunge across the lake slips away as she looks at the expansive ice sheet. But the risk is too immense. One slip and the frigid water will swallow her whole.
Will I be such a loss? No one has ever wanted me enough to keep me safe.
Her cloud of despair chooses now to fog her mind.
A roar rumbles through the trees, causing her hair to stand on end.
The phantom squeezing in her throat from her anxiety forces Avina to double over and spew bile upon the snow.
She chances death over fate at his hands as she tests the strength of the ice—her stomach somersaults.
Avina winces with each step as the ice burns her bare feet. She has taken no more than seven steps when the roar is at her back.
Against her better judgment, she whips her head around to see Sigvid standing on the lake’s edge with a fiery rage in his blue gaze.
“Avina! Do not take another step.” He growls.
I will not allow another man to break me.
She ignores his response and takes her eighth step.
A heart-wrenching crack echoes over the lake. She is vaguely aware of him calling for her as she hesitantly steps forward. The ice sheet opens beneath her, and she plunges into the frigid water—the cold bites at her exposed skin. No matter how hard she fights, she cannot reach the surface.
And this is how I die,by sinking alone into the Abyss while the man I once dreamed about leers down at me, waiting to drag me back into his control. Never to be loved or desired.
Her eyes peel open in time to see a darkness obscure the sun, and she succumbs to the dark depths.
23
AVINA
November 3rd, Year 100, 9th Era
Somewhere in the Salt Province
Have I ascended to the Golden Citadel?
Heat permeates from the firm figure, holding her body as if it might slip away at any moment.
Her eyes open hesitantly, revealing herself inside a tent. Under her side, she feels the softness of a fur pelt covering the frozen ground. A cot is set at her back, while discarded weapons and armor and a pile of saddlebags clutter the space.
Her curtain of lashes rises to meet a pair of growingly familiar, piercing blue eyes.
Sigvid’s orbs soften as she stirs before hardening to their typical coolness. Facing him does little to ease the turbulence in her chest. If anything, she feels her body solidify as if she had become a diamond.
Outside the tent, the campfire’s smolder radiates a faint light in the darkness of the canvas enveloping them. Through the flickering glow, Avina gawks at the defined strokes of his tattoos along the sides of his head—a howling wolf and a stairstep of lines.
Old and new wounds scar his body. Her father would say his precious skin is marred, but Avina would disagree. A danger lurks behind his gaze like a storm on the sea. Her heart flutters in fear and arousal at the battle-hardened warrior.
“I am not going to harm you, Avina. At least, not yet.” His rough voice brushes against her cheek.
Gently, she presses her quivering fingertips to the unsettling tick marks drawn unevenly down his head, neck, and arm. His eyes remain focused on hers as she traces each stroke. “The men you have killed?”
If he were going to kill me, he would have done so already. Right?
