Ronan sat forward. “There’s a way through. A shortcut used before even my kind took to these mountains. It’ll take us around the Bale’s ruin.”
“It’s settled then,” Callum started, before his jaw tightened, just once. “Ford, I swear to every god—stop touching the map.”
Ford threw his head back with a sigh.
Handing me a full goblet of wine, Ronan said, “We leave before the sun.”
“What if we’re too late?” Wells’ voice cracked.“What if the Bale’s already destroyed the whole path?”
Callum rose, hand gripping Wells’ shoulder. “We’ll be good.” His voice was calm, his thumb brushing once against Wells’ arm before falling away.
The wine slid down my throat, smooth, but it didn’t take the ache with it. I used to feel that hand anchor me, used to lean into that voice when it was my world that felt like it was falling apart. When Callum was the one dragging me back from the dark, whispering promises I wanted to believe.
It broke me how badly I missed it.
I pushed myself upright, wine sloshing over the cup rim. “Don’t feed shadows with fear,” I told Wells, forcing the words to come out even when my throat just wanted to close. “The worst may come, but it isn’t here yet. Don’t meet it early,” My head shook in quiet demand. “Don’t invite it closer.”
He nodded, swallowing hard at the lie that slipped out too easily.
My eyes fell to the ground, to the shifting colors thrown by the light. I didn’t dare look at anyone, scared they would see right through what I hid. But when I finally did, when instinct pulled me—
It was Ronan who was watching.
His eyes didn’t mock, didn’t spark with fire or smoke, only held mine, seeing the war I waged against myself. I let the stare pin me in place until the world around me blurred and there was only him.
Gold shimmered in his eyes, and I wondered if they burned like that always, or only when he looked at me.
My gaze lingered too long on the scar arcing across his brow, the shadows bruising his skin. Was the darkness from fatigue or travel? Maybe battle? Or maybe it was simply his bloodline, dragons marked by smoke even in their rest.
The thought twisted something low in me. And that’s when the darkness reached for me. I could feel it clawing, restless, pulling me back to where I should have been, what I should have remembered.
Not the gold in his eyes. Not the mysteries written in scars.
But what he’d taken. What I was meant to loathe him for.
Every breath spent watching him was one stolen from the vow I’d made—to hate, to destroy. To make him kneel before me.
I could’ve fought it, the whisper that was like a lash, but it dragged me away from the blaze in his stare, clawing me back to the hunger.
Until all that remained in my chest was venom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Verena
IDREW THE RESENTMENT BACK INTO MY VEINS when Maerin summoned me to her tent.
I shifted on the plush stool, choosing it deliberately over the faded pillows she had offered as the tea kettle screamed, a cry that filled the space.
Porcelain rattled as she set the cup before me. Steam danced, fragrant with mint and juniper, chased by a subtle slip of honey that lingered on my tongue as I risked a sip.
She only cradled hers, inhaling, but never tasting, one finger tracing circles along the rim.
I cleared my throat, setting the cup down too quickly, trying to ignore the lump that had formed there.
How stupid was I, to drink without question?
My pulse staggered, a whisper rushing the back of my mind.
