By the time we get to the stables, wrath radiates off her. It’s a surprise she hasn’t summoned her shadows. I slide off the horse first and offer her a hand, but she swats it, getting down on her own.
She turns to walk away, but then stops and advances on me, her face an unreadable mask.
“You are a broken man,” she says tersely, speaking nothing but the truth.“The shattered pieces of me recognize the shattered pieces of you, and that’s why I am telling you: I will give you time.”
I want to tell hernoagain. But she’s worn my control so thin, and maybe she sees that on my face, because she presses onward.
“I will give you time, but it won’t be forever. So think about what I said. Take the leap, Stark. Maybe itwillend in destruction. Or maybe it will end in two wrecked people finding a way to build something new in the rubble.”
She stalks off, leaving me in the horse-shit-reeking, hay-strewn stable. The mare we rode whinnies at me.
“On her side?”
It says nothing, of course. Useless beast.
Could Meryn be right? If every part of me screams to close the distance between us once again, would it really be so wrong to give in?
32
MERYN
Days pass. We share meals. We stop for water and supplies. We turn in for night after night on uncomfortable cots. The weather gets warmer the farther south we go, and eventually Elias has to venture into the city of Dawnspire to get lighter clothing for all of us. It’s a welcome relief, and yet still not enough.
I’ve never experienced heat like this before, and the way my body is responding is just… rude.
Sweat. Constantly. Without any exertion involved.
Throughout it all, I keep my wrist covered, even in the lighter clothing. I don’t need the Siphons to know about the engagement bracelet—at least not yet. Maybe I can get answers for its removal here. But I want that conversation to be on my terms.
Every once in a while, though, I swear it tightens. And my brain turns unwillingly to Killian. In my daily check-ins with Siegrid, she tells me that we’ve heard nothing from him since the Phylax defection, and I’m on constant edge.
The landscape throughout our journey continues to transform around us, becoming increasingly arid. The lushness gives way, replaced by long stretches of dusty path and withered bushes. The flora changes, too, growing more vibrant—sharp-petalled and burst in shades of reds, oranges, and yellows like resilient flames.
The small towns we pass through are increasingly elaborate and ornamental in their architecture. The building material changes, shifting to red clays, bricks, and tiled roofs.
Stark and I avoid each other entirely, except for when we sleep. It’s been massively uncomfortable, and everyone has noticed. Venna stays by me, and Noemi goes everywhere with Stark.
I wonder if she’s relishing his attention entirely on her, and then I kick my own ass for caring so much. And I wonder what she thinks of the two of us sleeping together. Does she care?
Venna catches me staring at them together and says, “Sheesh, what did Noemi do to you? You’re looking at her as if she mutilated Anassa.”
“She would never get close enough,” Anassa sniffs.“Do not drag me into your unreasonable human drama.”
I make an excuse—sand in my eye, nothing to do with Noemi—and try to shore up the defenses around my heart.
But, of course, I can’t help caring. Not now that I’ve had a glimpse of everything we could be together.
Stubborn fucking man. Control freak.
Thinking about Stark andcontrolmakes my insides twist all over again, the heat building inside me worse than the constant onslaught of the sun.
At one stop, I stumble upon Saela sitting with our father in a quiet corner of the courtyard of the outpost. They’re curled up side by side on a low stone barrier that divides the courtyard from the building shoved up alongside it. They’re deep in conversation, bent toward each other.
I watch them interact, unmoving.
Saela speaks with him openly, her hands fluttering as she talks. Our father listens raptly, nodding occasionally. Saela seems almost like her old self.
Or, at least, as close as I’ve seen her since Killian.
