A frown flickers across his face, but he nods slowly in agreement.
“I have a gift for you,” he says, producing a small box from within his pocket, carved from knotted wood. “I have wanted to give you this since the night you fell in the river. There was a time, as you slept, that I was sure you would never rise.” His brow creases as he recalls it. “To have found you, only to lose you…”
He shakes off the memory, unable to speak life into all that he feared that night. More than ever, I wish we lived in a world where I could reassure him that he would never lose me. But I won’t lie to him. Not anymore.
He composes himself and with the swipe of his thumb unlatches the box, settling it into the palm of my hand.
“I think I know you well enough by now to know that you prefer theblades I gifted you, but you can’t take them everywhere,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow at the male, but I don’t argue. It’s true that the flimsy dresses of court would do little to conceal them, but I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I could manage.
He chuckles. “Well, for my sake then, consider wearing it.”
Holding back the lid he reveals a feynstone ring, simple and lovely, nestled in a thick clutch of black velvet. Just as my blades do, the stone has an odd way of pulling at the light as if it might gather up every flame, snuffing us into darkness. The kite shaped stone is set in a thin band of delicate gold and, though the jewel wasn’t crafted to be a weapon, the pointed shape of its tip begs to be used in such a way.
I can’t help the smile that breaks upon my face, a pleased grin forming on his own as he plucks it from the box and places it on my finger.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, never having thought I would ever honor a jewel with such words.
“It is nothing compared to you,” he replies, and for the life of me I can’t understand why, but I know he means it.
He rises from the bed reluctantly, the exhaustion he feels lingering upon his face when he says, “I need to speak with Toren and help him fortify the grounds before the guests arrive.”
I nod. “I will come with you.”
“You will stay here,” he says. And when he sees I’m about to protest, he adds a simple, “Please.”
He’s lucky when a knock at the door grabs my attention. Luckier still that it is Riah on the other side. If the male won’t let me join him, at least the female he’s leaving me with is likely to offer some form of entertainment I can truly enjoy.
The general plants a kiss on top of my head, his fingers twisting the ring on my hand affectionately, before he leaves. A pang of sorrow resounds in my chest when he walks out. I should have been more diligent in capturing the last moments I was assured with him. I should have left him with words he could remember as he had done for me so many times. The fates promise no tomorrows, and I’d been careless with precious moments that could easily be our last.
Riah eyes the ring, a broader smile than usual taking over her features. “That is quite a gift. I don’t suppose you will tell me how you got it.”
She waggles her eyebrows at me, and I turn toward my closet before she has a chance to see my cheeks flush. She follows close behind. When I reach for my leathers, she places herself in front of me and puts up a hand to stop me.
“What are you doing?” she asks, a confused dip in her brow, though she is obviously aware of my intentions.
I frown. “Sparring.”
“Not today,” she says flatly, “The general wants the grounds clear when the guests arrive.”
“Then we have plenty of time,” I say, making to reach around her. “The party doesn’t start until the sun goes down.”
Riah snorts. “And every noble with an invitation will be here by midday. I assumed it was the same in the La’tari courts. Every feyn and mortal privileged enough to be invited will be eager for the opportunity to work themselves into the good graces of my liege.” She bows dramatically with a wild flourish of her hands, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at the image she paints.
“We can spar until midday,” I argue, but she gives me a look that says nothing in this veil will tempt the female to join me in the ring this morning.
Her eyes fall back to my ring when I cross my arms over my chest and her face grows dark as she considers it.
“Did you know that the feynstone blade would take down Kezik when you threw it?” she asks, deadly serious.
“No,” I admit, eyeing the ring myself, suddenly very curious about the rare stone it holds.
“I didn’t think so. There really isn’t much on Terr that will so easily end the life of a feyn, much less one of the Vatruke.”
And the general of A’kori put that power in the hands of the enemy. My hands. My entire life I’d been taught how to end the life of a feyn. And despite the ease with which the shadow master dispatched them when I was young, nothing I’d ever been taught was as simple as a blade.
She grins, clearly amused when she says, “I admit, I am lookingforward to seeing the faces of the nobles when they see that ring on your finger.”
