Freckles dusted her cheeks and collarbones, each one glimmering silver, as if a star had been shattered and scattered across her cool skin.
She was prophecy in the shape of a girl.
Ronan crouched beside her. “Reve,” he demanded. “Was he here?”
She said nothing. Not a blink or even a breath to betray meaning.
There was no sign of Reve. Not a footprint, not even a trace of scent. Nothing for Elysian to follow. He was long gone, leaving the Veyari for soldiers to cage, to carry, a burden he was far too superior for now.
A vein ticked at his temple, his stare dropping to the floor before lifting again to find Elysian. He nodded once and the air shivered. Bones reshaped, sinew snapped, skin gave way to brilliance. Where a man had stood, a stallion emerged. White and regal as the first snow of winter.
Ronan let smoke thread through Willa’s chains, forcing the metal apart until it fell to ash. She flinched at the sound, but not at the strands of dark he carried. She only watched it move around her hands, curious.
Once the shackles around her ankles were free, Willa moved without hesitation, her hands fusing with his mane as she pulled herself atop. Ronan aired his wings, the sound booming through the trees as he vaulted into the air, night catching beneath him.
Below, Elysian galloped into the dark, hooves striking the ground in rhythm with Ronan’s beating form as they stole her back unnoticed.
Nearly a day had passed before they were confident they couldn’t be traced. The three lay tucked within a stone structure, night once more bearing down against its walls.
Willa curled close to the fire, Ronan’s dark flames painting her pale skin slate. Elysian sat nearby, polishing his blade in leisurely strokes, the two ofthem caught in the same glow. Mirrored strands of moonlight and frost. Yet they were not the same.
Willa’s presence radiated calm, in the same way still water did under starlight. Elysian burned colder, more a blade sheathed in ice.
Ronan leaned against the wall. “You two sure you don’t come from the same continent? You look like fate painted you from the same vision,” he muttered.
Elysian didn’t lift his gaze from the blade. “My realm wouldn’t tolerate Veyari. For her sake, let’s hope she remembers which side of fate she’s on.”
Willa still refused to speak, but her eyes glanced at Ronan, and he folded his arms across his chest. “Where did you come from? Maerin was Veyari too. Were you kin?”
Still nothing.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deep when a shimmer raked beneath his skin. Scales. They had gotten the taste of Ryuu’s air and now were restless for more. “Why did they kill her, Willa? Why did they take you?”
Her eyes were a vortex of a million different lives, yet she spoke onnoneof them.
He scraped a hand down his face in a tired sweep before he cast the gesture her way. “We’re trying to help you. We’re not here to hurt you.”
The fire snapped, movement lurching against her unblinking eyes. When she still gave nothing, Ronan shook his head, moving past her, already surrendering the question.
A cold grip latched around his wrist as her hand shot out, stopping him. Stilling, he looked to her, catching the way her eyes shifted—no longer pale, but opaque and swirling. With her lips parting, he waited for her to speak, and when her voice came, it wasn’t a child’s voice at all. It was rendered, an echo pulled from some hidden void.
“Salvation’s hands tremble in scars. Beautiful, wary, but hidden in the stars.The shackles must break; a new bond will form.Death begs death. And time wakes, reborn.”
The words landed deep, a resonance he couldn’t explain, couldn’t shake.
Frost wavered across her fingers, latching onto his wrist where it melted instantly as he ripped his hand away. “What does that mean?”
Giving nothing more, she turned away, fingers slipping onto her lap. The silver faded from her eyes, leaving only colorless glass reflecting the firelight.
Elysian’s eyes narrowed in on her, as if he could peel sense from the riddle she’d spoken. “Don’t let it rattle you. Veyaris enjoy using their oddities to lean fate into their own liking.”
Frustrated, Ronan turned, ready to step away, then halted when a thought struck. Maybe prophecy was the only way she could speak. “Can you tell me the Viper’s prophecy? Verena’s?”
Willa’s eyes flickered, searching for some frayed thread. Then, slowly, she shook her head.
Breath hissed out between his lips, defeated. “Can you at least tell me if she can be saved?”
Since the moment he had severed his oath with Isolde, this was the question burning through him. Verena was worth saving. Worth the impossible. Even if it killed him, he would try.
