Her death would behisto give.
And if the fates themselves thought to rob him of it, he would cut them down too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ronan
TWO DAYS CAME AND WENT, morning seeping through the forest in copper streaks that didn’t quite reach the ground.
Ronan tilted his head back, drinking from his canteen until the metal clicked against his teeth. The water cooled his throat but did nothing for the burn crawling beneath his skin.
The tether in his mind went taut as he turned to where he felt her.
She stood across the camp, hair dripping, a nightshirt clinging in sin, the fabric translucent in the morning light.
Even scowling, she was a vision carved from contradiction.
Her eyes caught his, azure fractured with murk, pupils blown wide. There was madness in them. Hunger. Maybe sorrow once.
The oath tapped against his pulse, tightening.
He could reach her if he let the smoke take him, close the space between, close his hands around her throat.
Thunder answered the thought before he could, carrying her snarl as the wind caught her hair, ripping it across her cheeks, her neck. The first drops fell, tracing cold paths down his face.
She started toward him. Slow at first, every step steeped in anger as lightning split the sky behind her, white fire feeding off her fury.
In the same flash, Elva burst through the tent flaps, bare feet splashing against mud as she rushed for Verena.
Ford caught her wrist mid-stride, reeling her back to where he stood in the huddle of rebels before she could reach.
“One hundred coins says Verena wipes the ground with him,” Ford drawled.
Rain splattered against the shimmering ward that surrounded him, a neat little bubble of dry air that made him look smug enough to punch.
The others clustered nearby, watching in wary silence as the sky broke open, water pouring in sheets now. None of them moved to interfere.
Beside Ford, Wells gnawed at his nails, eyes darting between Verena and Ronan. His leg jittered, splattering mud up his trousers.
Ford nudged him with an elbow. “Well, are you betting on our girl or the fire-breathing reptile?”
The last word barely left his mouth before smoke whirred through his shield, burning it away in an instant. The ward collapsed, and the downpour hit him like blissful punishment.
Ford yelped, sputtering as his coat soaked through. “What the—”
Nezra laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. “Next time, maybe don’t tempt the dragon.” She pointed to where Ronan stood across the clearing, legs braced, arms folded, a smirk drawn on his mouth.
Ford froze under that look, water dripping from his hair. “Right,” he muttered. “No bets.”
Verena took Ronan’s distraction as an offering. But not everyone missed it. Elysian dropped from the air in a gust of feathers, wings folding into flesh as he landed, shifting mid-lunge. Steel stroked the rain as his blade flashed, moving to intercept.
Ronan’s pulse spiked. Even now, drenched to the bone and seething, she was all venom.
Between her knuckles, a presence glinted, a jagged shard of metal, like the weapon was part of her hand, part of her madness. The canteen crashed to the ground when Ronan moved, shoving Elysian as it split the air. His hand shot up, the edge of what she’d thrown biting into his palm as he caught it mid-flight.
Blood mingled with rain, pink ribbons spiraling down his wrist as he turned it over, recognizing the shape, the weight. An arrowhead sat in his hand, white and weathered.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.
