The silence between us stretches thin, taut with things neither of us is willing to say. We settle into a rhythm of drinking, refilling, and staring at nothing in particular. The sound of the liquor sloshing in the bottle and the occasional scrape of glass on wood are the only noises in the room.
Therion breaks the silence first. “Will she be ready to go in the morning?”
His voice is quiet, but there’s a tension beneath the words, a hesitation that’s unlike him. He’s usually the steady one, the one with the plan. But everything is riding on this, and we both know it.
I down the last of my drink, letting the burn chase away the knot in my throat. “I have absolutely no fucking idea.”
Therion doesn’t press. He just nods, his expression grim, and pours another round.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
ELYSSARA
The morning air is biting,crisp enough to steal the breath from my lungs if I’m not prepared. Evidence of last night’s storm—broken branches, stray belonging strewn everywhere—is thick. It’s all a stark contrast to the cloying heat of Virellin. I wrap my cloak tighter around me as the group gathers in the small courtyard of the inn. Our breath plumes in the cold, the faint clinking of bridles and the low snorts of restless horses filling the silence.
Therion is methodical as always, ensuring every saddlebag is secured and loaded with food and water canteens, and every weapon easily accessible. Jax and Merrik stand near the packhorses, adjusting straps and tying down supplies. I can see their hushed exchanges and their displeasure at not coming along. Torvyn, no fuss and stoic, sharpens his blade, the steady scrape of steel on whetstone a sound I’ve grown too familiar with. Finn, on the other hand, busies himself with checking the horses’ hooves, muttering under his breath about the terrain ahead.
“El, are you alright? You haven’t said a word,” Seren’s expression is fraught with worry, her tone tense, and I can’t blame her—I’ve been silent and passive, save for the shivering.
I nod, unable to squeeze a single word from my body. Ronynthrows his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in tight. His affection warms me.I need this. I melt into him, nestling my face into the crook of his underarm.
“Please know thatwe,” he wags a finger emphatically between himself and Seren, “haven’t forgottenourgoals. Just because they have theirs, doesn’t mean we have to deviate from ours.” King Thalmyr. Vengeance. Unbinding my power. “We’re family, El.”
The sting of impending tears threatens to overcome me, but there is not a chance in the Stars that I’ll let that happen in front of these people. Moisture rims my eyes and my throat aches with the effort to hold back the flurry of emotions swirling inside my chest. “Okay,” I concede, barely above a whisper.
The three of us. It’salwaysbeen the three of us. No matter what, I have them. They have me. We are in this together.
We huddle together, fogging our warm breath into the palms of our hands intermittently to keep the chill at bay. I watch as the stableboy rushes around the horses, double and triple checking frantically. Of course, it doesn’t help that Kael is looming over his shoulder, correcting and instructing him with brusque command.
I watch Kael—he’s quiet, his expression unreadable, but his hands are precise as he adjusts the straps on the saddle for the fourth time. There’s a tension in his movements, a tightness in his jaw that betrays whatever storm brews beneath his calm exterior.
As if he feels the weight of my stare, he turns towards me, eyes locking on mine. Is that remorse lining his features? Or am I just hoping that’s what I see?I break his gaze first, choosing instead to take in the towering black stallion with eyes like polished obsidian standing next to him. He is magnificent.
Kael starts moving towards us, his smooth gait unfaltering and dominant. “Lightborne, you’re with me.”Lightborne. Devoid of emotion, he calls me the name that makes me feel like nothing more than a prophecy. Not a woman, not a friend, not a daughter.A thing.Or maybe evennothing.
Or perhaps my name is too intimate.Too real.
I nod, knowing that resisting this would be futile. Kael holds out an arm for me, ushering me towards the intimidating black stallion.As I move past him, a ghost of warmth brushes against my lower back—a sensation as fleeting as a whisper. My breath catches, and I glance down instinctively, only to find his arms at his sides. The air around me feels charged, as though I’ve walked through the static of a storm.What in the Stars was that?
The horse tosses his head, dark mane rippling like liquid shadow. His silver-ringed eyes lock on me, unblinking, as though he can see something beyond what is visible. His hooves shift uneasily, stamping against the frozen earth, but he doesn’t retreat. It is almost as if he can’t decide whether to challenge me or bow. Kael shushes him, gliding his strong calloused hands underneath his mane and along his neck. The horse instantly soothes and settles, as if Kael’s very presence comforts him.
“He’s beautiful.” I breathe the words in awe, not realizing they’ve escaped me until Kael’s eyes flash towards me.
“This is Nyx,” he states simply, though I notice the fondness in his tone.
“He’s yours?”
Kael nods. “My little sister begged me to name him Moonpie,” he gives a light huff of laughter, but there’s no mistaking the nostalgia and sadness woven in his words. He looks at me then, eyes brimming with guilt, “Elyssara—” His voice cracks, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I never wanted to hurt you. But you have to know?—”
“Don’t. Please don’t.” I swallow down that still-present lump in my throat. “I understand why you did it.” And I do. I understand the lengths I’d go to for my family. The people I’d take down to free them. “It’s bigger than me. I am unimportant in the grand plan of saving your people. I’m disposable. I understand.” I swallow hard, my voice barely holding. “I just... don’t trust you anymore.”
Whatever was building between us is gone, and our fragile alliance is all that remains.
Kael’s expression looks raw and pained, but he nods tightly, acquiescing to my wishes. He spins on his heel and gives a short farewell to Finn and Torvyn. He turns to Jax and Merrik, clasping their forearms in a warrior’s embrace. “Be ready for us in two daysat the latest. If we’re not back, get word to Daelen and proceed as usual.”
Daelen. Word. Two days. The way Kael said the name—certain, matter-of-fact—pricks at the edges of my thoughts. I may have been blind to his motives before, but not anymore. My trust is shattered, but my perception? Sharper than ever.
Ronyn and Seren sit atop their bay mare, Ronyn’s bow slung over his shoulder, and Seren clutching a historical text in one hand and, surprisingly, her small crossbow in the other. Therion, unyielding and alert, sits atop a gleaming white mare, her tail shimmering and rippling in the sunlight like a waterfall. She is mythical, regal, otherworldly, and the perfect steed for an Aetherstride who needs to track and blend into the snow. He looks almost ethereal astride this horse. “She’shis, isn’t she?” I murmur to Kael, awestruck by their almost synergistic and palpable connection.
