“But why?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Nonviolence is weakness. It is asking to be killed. I would do anything to protect my family and my people,” he replied as if it was the most logical thing in all the worlds. But he had demonstrated that only a few days before when he had defended me.
My mind flashed to the scar over his heart.
The Issaraeth was duty. I was defiance.
Yet stretched between us was an undeniable desire.
With the way he looked at me then, his expression almost beseeching mine to understand, to agree…
To see him, to accept him as he was.
Understanding slammed into me like a tidal wave, dragging me under before I could brace for the impact.
Thatwas the root of the desperation leaking down our bond.
Virelthorn hadn’t suppressed my keen intuition, but rather allowed it to sharpen over the years. And right now, it was slicing open something that should have remained closed. Empathy rose from the depths of me, unbidden and unwanted.
What had caused such an idea to bloom in the mind of the realm’s most lethal hunter? A male, by all accounts, who had everything he could have wanted. Wealth, power, prestige. Respect, even if it was borne through fear.
This male was an enigma.
“What if there was a way to protect those you love without bloodshed?” I asked, my voice no louder than a whisper. I hadn’t drawn the life out of the male who had attacked me—merely blasted him away to give myself space. That was entirely different from the type of violence the Issaraeth wielded.
“I have yet to find a way, little fugitive. Especially in this age of war, I fear there is no other option,” he stated. The certainty in his tone chilled me like I stood atop the highest peak of the Skala Mountains.
I refused to believe that. But I didn’t tell him. Not when I was so close to crumbling some of his high walls.
So I met him where he was, both of us nearly to the center of the cart. “This is also the age of prophecy. Perhaps someone will See a way out of it.”
His eyes traced my face like he was searching for answers I didn’t want to give. “And that is why my sister keeps Seers like pets. Because no one wants this war to go on endlessly. We must win so our race can survive.”
I fought to keep my expression neutral. “We have the same goal, Issaraeth. We simply disagree on how to reach that end.”
My heart beat a staccato rhythm against my ribs as our faces lingered inches apart.
“We’ll see who is right in the end, I suppose,” he murmured, gaze lingering on my lips. Humidity thickened the air—or was that the tension between us?
A heartbeat passed. Then another. We were stuck in that position, him and I, balanced on the precipice of danger and divinity. One move away from ruin or revelation.
With the smallest groan, so soft I thought I’d imagined it, he withdrew. I blinked, trying to ground myself amid the dizzying rush of air that didn’t smell like stormwood.
The Issaraeth tore into his dried meat next. I did the same, mind working over how to continue the intimate conversation without seeming desperate for his attention. It would only raise suspicion when most of our interactions before ended in heated disagreement.
Nothing surfaced.
Until he was packing up our lunch and we prepared to depart again. “Can I ride up front with you?”
He paused, hand halfway into the food bag. Air stilled in my lungs as he remained in that position, studying me. Calculating.
Sweat broke out on my spine.
Does he already suspect I’m twisting the thread between us?
“I would like to see where we are going. I’ve never been this far north before,” I offered by way of additional explanation, keeping the waver out of my voice. Confidence would not get me caught.
He exhaled, shoulders still perfectly straight despite the long breath. “If you can make yourself comfortable on the bench. Besides, it will be easier to keep my eye on you if you’re beside me rather than behind me.”
