“I began making my way further into the mountains when I heard the kingsguards coming,” I continued, raising my brows at the ex-queensguard. I hadn’t forgotten his deception, and the day he came for Lyvia at our cottage. The day the tribute came for Rivaner. The day Mum died.
His face tightened, and he stopped walking. The agrippa’s rocky gait came to a halt as the rain softened to a drizzle.
“There are things I would have done differently,” he said after a moment.
I frowned as I watched him, waiting. He ran a hand through his hair, the curly strands clumping together in wavy lines.
“I’ve been fighting this war for most of my life. I lived a double life for half of it. Secrets and lies kept me alive, kept me closer to ending Saros and the tribute.”
My stomach clenched as a bloody wooden deck and soldiers in black forced their way into my mind’s eye. I pushed a tight breath through my lips as Ronan paused.
“And in a life like that, your circle of trust is small. Not trusting the right people can cost you more than your life. It can cost you something more precious.” Ronan’s eyes went glassy as he stared past me. “There are some Ishouldhave trusted. Lyvia,among others…” His throat bobbed as he trailed off, and he cleared it, turning his face back to the trail.
My gaze landed on the reins in my hands, and I frowned. What else had a life of lies cost Ronan? I gently squeezed my thighs to keep the agrippa moving.
“I wasn’t in the tunnels long before Gork found me,” I continued after a moment. “There was no witch. Just Gork and his friends. And they wanted to stay with me.” I paused, my brows pinching. “They are the only ones whoeverwanted to stay,” I said, my voice small.
Ronan’s shoulders tensed, but he kept walking. I found myself finally examining the events of the past year and a half, when it suddenly dawned on me why I’d begun to feel so hollow.
“Everyone left,” I said, something hardening in my chest as the words spilled from my lips. “Before the day Mum died, before the tribute ship came, I was whole. And every time someone left, it was like I lost a part of me. It still feels like it should be there, like it should come back… Like I’ve lost a limb, but I can still feel the phantom arm when I reach for something. Mum and Dad… Even Ezrich. He left. So did Lyvia, Drystan, Nerissa… I feel like I’ve been torn limb from limb, like everyone I’ve grown close to has left, some unwillingly, but so many by choice. And now I am just…hollow.”
Cool rain rolled down my forehead and over my lips, dripping onto my cloak. I stared off into the boring, gray sky. At some point, the agrippa stallion had stopped walking. I blinked and looked down to find Ronan staring at me. His lips were pursed, and his eyes were full of sorrow. I bristled, not wanting the pity, and urged the stallion forward.
Ronan remained distracted, as if some painful memory refused to let him return to reality.
“We won’t find Gork here,” I continued in a hard voice. “They liked to keep moving.”
Ronan finally lifted his head and nodded, walking beside the horse. “What did you do all those months when you were with them?”
“We drew,” I answered, recalling the paintings along the rough walls of the inner mountain labyrinth.
“You drew?” Ronan asked, arching a brow.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Lots of stars. They loved the constellations. Their favorite was the Ascendant’s Arrow.”
The sun casta warm net over my face, and I closed my eyes against its kiss as I leaned my head against the stable door. We’d been back in Aedrialis for a few weeks. The stench of the city’s thawing spring had finally blown away, and I took a deep inhale of the musky hay and fresh grass that had fought through the hard ground.
A heavy clomp followed the soft blow of a snort from the agrippa in the neighboring field as she grazed on the short grass. The flat pastures surrounding Cantor Manor butted up to the trees lining the inner walls of Aedrialis, and though I could appreciate the bright green leaves pushing through the thin branches of the surrounding trees, I still yearned for the spring of Rivaner. There weren’t many places in Aedrialis where the soft scent of flowers wasn’t smothered by the trash and shit of the city.
My brows furrowed as I turned my attention back to the shaft in my hands, and I carefully wrapped the thin leather around the base of the sturdy turkey feather. I twisted it around the feather, tying it tightly to the other side, careful not to shift its position as I added another. Over and under, tight and straight.
Never touch the fletching once it’s tied. Dad’s words echoed in my ears as I gripped the thin shaft of the arrow between my thumb and two fingers, holding it out as I examined my work. A deep ache arrived as his kind face appeared in my mind, his big hand clasping my shoulder as he squeezed and smiled at the first arrow I’d made.
Memories surged before I could stop them.
Dad adjusting my elbow as I aimed at the trunk of the tree… His loudwhoopas the arrow point found its mark… The crinkle in the corner of his eyes when he laughed….
His body spiked on the walls of Aedrialis.
My gaze locked on the interior of the city’s barrier. The reflection of the sun shot off the clean white walls in the distance, hitting the back of my eyes with a sharp stab of light, a damning reminder of their purpose. My vision buckled, and the flash of crimson lines running down from mutilated, spiked bodies somersaulted with the pristine bare walls in front of me.
I stopped breathing, and a fogginess clouded my vision as the oxygen in my lungs began to run out.
My mother’s voice sounded in the back of my mind.You need to breathe, Evony.But the images continued flashing back and forth, my father’s mangled body forced center stage in my mind.
The barn door creaked, and I jumped as the sound snapped me out of my trance. I whipped my head around, nearly dropping my fresh arrow as my stomach jumped into my throat.
I finally took a breath, and my eyes landed on Vander Stryke.
