Spinning on her heel, she darted away.
Mare reached out to touch Reese's arm, but pulled her hand back. "I'll get our mounts. You should stay with the men."
"Be careful," Reese called.
My attention quickly diverted from my sister's retreating form to the Paragon watching her. His expression had shifted the moment Mare had turned her back.
A wave of concern tugged at his mouth, but something more gleamed in his eyes. There was pride there. He was impressed. But it was not the gaze an old master would give his student, nor the look a father would cast his son.
This was the look I imagined Father had given his wife when she'd beaten his ass in a duel.
Reese struggled to tear his eyes from Mare and turned without looking.
He walked straight into the statue.
Oh, no.
My sister was a heretical shadow wielder. She thought herself responsible for the death we'd borne witness to. The last thing she needed was a Solheart pining after her.
He was the most likely to hurt her.
Reese backed away from the statue, rubbing his nose. He noticed me staring at him.
Clearing his throat, he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "You should get to safety. Mare mentioned your catalyst doesn't work at night."
"Right.” I let the word hang in the air. “Solhearts aren’t allowed to court outside Forlaith, no?"
"No. Some can marry Fireborn lords," Reese said, folding his arms. "What's your point?"
I leaned in, lowering my voice. "Forbidden things are better left alone."
"I know.” Reese strolled around me. "But Paragons don't take orders from anyone save their sovereigns, and even then—” He smirked. "We have a way around them."
I'd seen it in person, Killian invoking the right of Cierthine.
"You sound less like a Paragon and more like a thief," I said.
"Takes one to know one." A mischievous glint darkened his golden eyes.
Exhaling, I watched the Paragon join the chaos to help direct men. Mare had mentioned noticing ink on his chest.
She was too innocent to know what they meant—but I did.
Certain underground organizations marked themselves in ink to identify one another. The ‘Paragon’ had a storied past.
Ferris, Reese, and I were all cut from the same cloth—rogues who didn't listen to anyone.
Over the sound of running, above the gates and beyond the shadows—I heard a familiar call. A tug on my soul, pulling me toward it.
Back to the Ceorthan Shadowlands.
It was no mere desire. Claws sank into my skin, ghostly hands wrapped around my bones. My feet moved without order, dragging me toward the southern gate.
Someone—or something—was trying to drag me back to the wall.
Taking a breath, I bit my lip, letting fresh pain distract from the foreign voice in my thoughts.
If no one else in the cursed city would follow orders, then neither would I.
