“Are you insane?” He hissed, eyes wild as blood dripped from his nose.
I smiled. “I’m starting to think so.”
He reared back when I spit, my blood staining rivers of red down his face. The slap that came after was sharp and relentless in its stinging.
Head ramming forward, the sound of cartilage crunching and his yell were a symphony fueling the adrenaline that pumped through my veins as he stumbled back.
Stars spotted my vision, my own feet stumbling as I reached out, snagging his shirt. My fingers curled around the fabric, clawing and grappling for purchase.
My breath came out inwhooshwhen something connected with my back, my inhale sharp and burning. The pain so blinding the world went white for moments, my scream distant and piercing all at once.
I turned just as a plank of wood was swinging for my skull and I dropped. It exploded into shards of splinters as it connected with the stone wall of the alleyway.
“You woke rather quickly,” my grumble slurred, agony lacing the words as I stood and stretched an arm out. A few ribs weredefinitelybroken, but the pain didn’t stop me from raising my fists again. I welcomed it, welcomed the distraction of focusing on that sharp burn rather than the one deep in my chest. The two men stared back, unease in their eyes. “Surely you're notscared, two big strong men such as yourselves against only me?”
The smell of rain and cedar invaded my senses before a voice, low and wicked, sounded from behind. “Causing trouble again, little menace?”
I turned, stomach rolling when he stepped from the shadows. He was angry, it was clear in the taut lines of his face as his eyes roamed over the bruises and blood I was sure were scattered across my face. His gaze held mine when he spoke again. “Leave.”
I heard the curse, the shuffling of feet as the two men scrambled out of the dark alleyway, my stomach tightening as he stepped closer. A new kind of distraction stealing my attention, my focus from those thoughts that tried to claw their way from the recesses of my mind.
A finger brushed a strand of hair from my face, tender and delicate. “You reek of alcohol.”
My throat bobbed, a shoulder lifting. “I was thirsty.”
“Why do you drink so much?”
My lips flattened, head pulling back from his touch. “It quiets the thoughts I don’t wish to think.”
A truth. He deserved a truth.
He stepped closer again until my back was pressed against the stone. He didn’t reach for me again, his hand instead coming to rest by my head, caging me in. “If a distraction is what you need, little menace, I can think of plenty that don’t involve getting drunk and picking fights.”
Fire licked up my spine, slow and steady, but it wasn’t the burn of rage or sharpness of physical pain. No, this fire was a delicious warmth that spread from deep in my abdomen, one that had my fingers twitching to reach out for him, to pull him closer. It had my breaths coming shorter as it coiled within me, had my heart stuttering when his eyes dropped to my mouth.
My body was still as the stone at my back when he brushed his thumb along my lips, the touch stinging yet soft all at once. When he pulled back his pale skin was stained crimson, his eyes darkening.
“We should get you back, sober up and let Rena heal you.”
“I don’t want to be healed.”
His head tilted, eyes searching mine. “What happened in that room, Syra?”
I shifted, the question dousing the desire as though he had poured a pail of icy water over my head. All of the thoughts I had been so desperately avoiding resurfacing as my eyes closed tightly.
“Bran told you, didn’t he?” I gritted out.
“Bran is always vague when it comes to you. He told us that Wraith thinks The Fever is a Solerian creation, but there’s more.” I kept my eyes shut as he spoke, worried that he’d see the darkness spooling out of me with each word he spoke. Scared that my secrets would spill if I saw worry in the endless sea of silver and green. “Iknowthere’s more. That man looked like he was seeing a ghost when you walked into the room, Syra. Whatever you spoke of, it wasn’t related to the quest, was it?”
My hands clenched, my nails breaking the skin. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business what we may or may not have spoken of,Captain.”
“Don’t do that.”
My eyes opened, narrowing. His head shook at what he saw within them.
“Don’t push me away.” His voice was a plea, as though he were seeking sanctuary within me. As if he didn’t know there was nothing but rot and ruin to find. “I made you a promise upon that desert sand only nights ago, that I would continue to reach for your hand, no matter what. This is me reaching, Syra. I can’t ease whatever pain you’re carrying if you constantly refuse to speakof—”
“My mother.” The words were harsh, biting. Said so quickly they were nearly a jumble of incoherent syllables strung together, spoken before I could change my mind. Before the anxiety could stick them within my throat for me to choke on rather than voicing them aloud, I continued, “He knew my mother, once. Long ago.”
