After all, what amI?Justa half-breed priestess under a lust curse who doesn’t even know where she belongs.
My chest tightens painfully, andIcurl in on myself, wrapping my arms around my middle as another wave of heat rolls through me.Thecurse burns low and steady between my thighs—a constant, aching reminder of everythingIcan’t have…everythingTheronwon’t give me.
By the time exhaustion finally drags me under, my face is sticky with tears, and my body is still throbbing with need.
46
ELOWEN
Morning comes too quickly.
I wake feeling hollow and heavy all at once, like something inside me has been scooped out and replaced with nothing but ache.Myeyes feel swollen, my limbs sluggish, and the curse—Goddesshelp me—the curse is worse than ever.
I wash my face and take a few moments to compose myself before going downstairs.Idon’t want anyone to see me like this, especially not the kindly smith’s wife, who has been nothing but generous to us.
But whenIstep into the warm, low-ceilinged kitchen, the scent of eggs and fresh bread thick in the air, my heart stutters in my chest.
He’s still here—he didn’t leave me after all!
Theron sits at the small wooden table, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his dark hair falling forward as he stares down at the plate in front of him.There’sa heap of scrambled eggs and a slice of thick bread on it, but he hasn’t touched a single bite.
Relief hits me first, followed immediately by hurt.Becausehe’s here…but he won’t even look at me.
“Good morning, dear,” the smith’s wife says kindly, setting another plate on the table.“Sit, sit—you need to eat before you head out.”
“Thank you,”Imurmur automatically, taking a seat across fromTheron.
He still doesn’t look up…doesn’t say a word.
The silence between us feels deeper than anythingI’veever experienced—thicker than the stone walls of the temple, heavier than the weight of my own thoughts.
I pick up my fork and try to eat—Ireally do.Butthe momentIbring a bite to my mouth, my stomach turns.
I can’t eat.Thefood tastes like ash on my tongue, and after forcing down a single bite,Iset my fork aside.
Across from me,Theronhasn’t moved at all, and his plate remains untouched.Iguess neither of us has much appetite this morning.
After the silent breakfast, we thank the smith and his wife for their kindness and gather our few belongings in silence before stepping out into the cool morning air.
The day is beautiful but still we don’t speak—not a word.Thetown falls away behind us quickly, the last signs of life disappearing as we walk toward theSouthernwastelands.
The change in the scenery is gradual at first.Thepacked dirt road becomes rougher, broken by stones and patches of dry, cracked earth.Thesparse greenery thins and the grass turning brittle and yellow before vanishing altogether.
And then all signs of life disappear.Thereare no birds, no animals or plants or trees.Nosound but the whisper of hot wind skimming over barren ground.
It’s said that theWastelandswere formed with a magic spell went wrong.Asorcerer wanted to curse the land of his irritating neighbor with barrenness and his magic got out of control and worked a little too well.Lookingaround us,Ican believe the old story is true because there is nothing here—not even insects.
The land stretches out before us in a bleak, endless expanse of rock and dust.Jaggedformations jut up from the earth like broken teeth, their edges sharp and unforgiving.Scraggly, spiny shrubs—the only living things in this vast, arid plane—cling stubbornly to life in scattered patches, their twisted branches covered in needle-like thorns that catch at my skirts as we pass.
There is no beauty here—only desolation.
The air itself feels wrong—too dry, too hot, as if it’s been baked clean of anything soft or living.Itstings my throat whenIbreathe and leaves a faint, bitter taste on my tongue.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly wishingI’dbrought something more than my thin robes to shield me from the harshness of this place.
Beside me,Theronwalks in silence, his expression unreadable.Iexpect him toShiftwithout a word…to leave everything unsaid between us.Butjust as we reach the place where the last trace of the town disappears behind us, he stops.
I take a few more steps before realizing he isn’t beside me anymore.WhenIturn, he’s looking at me.
