“For five years, I’ve wondered if she knew exactly what she was doing that night,” Farrah mused. “If she purposely made those slips and didn’t cover her tracks because she knew what kind of man Elias was.” A pointed glance at Cason. “He took one look around the orphanage, spotted me helping a little boy, and didn’t break stride as he gathered the supplies and got to work with his herbal magic. At the end of the day, he asked for a list of everything we still needed fixed around the building so he could get started first thing the next morning. I looked into those emerald eyes and saw what Brela had seen. I handed him our spare key on the spot.”
Serill wasn’t quite sure how Farrah could trust any man after that, and he was thankful he’d read her hesitations in the week he’d known her. He’d seen how she kept a distance from anyone but Elias and Brela, except when necessary. He’d been aware enough to read her wary glances when she’d asked him to help train her with the sword. Now he understood why she had left before Brela could explain what happened in Calcheth.
Farrah’s eyes flashed to her friends as Elias let out a grunt, her hand reaching out to stop Cason who flinched at the noise.
And then Elias jolted upright with a gasp. “Brela.”
Brela was awake before Elias had fully sat up, leaping over his legs and straddling his lap to pin him. “I’m right here.”
“You’re… you’re…”
His green eyes were wide, darting wildly and scanning her body as sweat ran down his face. Brela didn’t seem bothered by the sweat as she gripped his cheeks and ran her fingers over his face, brushing dark blonde hair away. She pressed her lips to his forehead.
“I’m here, I’m right here with you,” she whispered. Eyes still wide in horror, Elias’s hands ran over Brela’s arms, torso, legs. Taking in her appearance as she continued to whisper soothing reassurance. “I’m okay. Not a scratch. I’m safe.”
Elias swallowed, his fingers brushing over the Veil shard in her collarbone. And when his eyes finally met Brela’s, he tugged her into a hug that looked like it should have crushed bones.
“You’re okay, you’re safe,” he sighed into her shoulder, fisting Brela’s shirt as he held her tighter.
Farrah cleared her throat softly, pulling their attention back to her. “He blames himself for what happened to Brela after Calcheth, we both do, but that’s what haunts his dreams. Seeing her… hurt.” She watched Brela tug Elias back to their bedroll before sighing and focusing on the Captain. “Not once has Brela put our lives on the line over her own. Not once has she done it because she expects anything in return. She’s faced things worse than any of us can imagine, and somehow her heart still knows how to love. She might be the Night Terror, but she’s not evil. She’s so much more than her titles.”
“I know,” Cason whispered.
Sadness flashed across Farrah’s features. “I hope you remember that.”
Cason looked prepared to question her but she stood, and with a quick nod toward Serill, she joined Brela and Elias and left the Captain to stew in his thoughts.
31
The Crystal Desert
Cason decided that the lynxpie were now his least favorite creature, even if it was entertaining to see Brela get so frustrated with such a small beast. She’d gotten into hissing matches with no less than thirteen mountain cats, and lost every single challenge. When Cason pointed out that fact, she hissed at him too, drew a knife, and threw it so hard at the nearest cat, the blade pinned the creature to the rocky wall behind it. The entire time, her glare never left Cason except to give a pointed look between his legs.
He never brought it up again, and she ignored him the rest of the way.
It made the trip through the Magtonas feel like a lifetime, even if it only took them until mid-afternoon to finally reach the Crystal Desert.
The little carnivores continued to dart between their horses, trying to swipe the satchels of food at every opportunity. No amount of water spraying from Farrah seemed to deter them either. Brela swore to all the gods that one day she’d return with a pack of noglida—the six-legged and poison-barbed mountain monsters of the north—to keep the rabid-breeding cats in line. Unsurprisingly, the creatures were still not deterred.
Cason finally relented and tapped into his magic, building a wall of fire around them and the river that sent the lynxpie screeching and running for cover. Serill groaned that he should have done that hours ago and saved them the sour moods, even if they had to suffer more heat.
Cason assumed Brela would have said the same, but one glance in her direction told him the heat in her eyes was not out of anger.
“How much effort is it to keep this wall up?” she’d asked.
“A passing thought. No focus required.”
At that, she’d let out a whimpering noise that forced him to actually focus on that fire to keep it from razing the entire rock wall to their right.
Gods, this woman.
Serill was right. He… he did like her. Four hells, he’d never met someone who made him feel like this—both insane for being attracted to such violence and incredibly awed at that sharp behavior. He’d known the depth of his feelings the minute she hadn’t balked at his fire ink in the courtyard.
But it couldn’t be anything more than that for her. As much as he enjoyed that she looked at him without fear, this was just a temporary thing. A distraction that they could both take advantage of. Bouts of bodies tangling, but nothing more.
Even if he still dreamed of her laughter or pictured her smirks or got lost trying to figure out what color her eyes were. And that non-scent was so tricky, especially when she somehow continued to produce shirts from her bag that had once been in his closet. Wrapping herself inhisscent, and he loved that he felt so gods-damned smug that she wanted to wear his clothing.
Farrah was right. Brela was so much more than her titles. Hesawthat heart now. She wasn’t a trick or a lie or a con, she was just Brela. A non-gods-blessed woman who didn’t balk at his power and had cracked through his fiery core to find a good man she’d claimed was worthy.
