Page 87 of The City Of Fractured Memory

My breath catches.

“It’s working!” I whisper excitedly to Quill, who’s furiously writing everything down as it happens. But my moment of excitement is all it takes for me to lose the link. I huff in frustration and try again, doing my best to focus. It takes another few attempts, but eventually I manage to maintain the connection.

The light brightens, then threads of magic begin to coil between my fingers. I squeeze my face in concentration, encouraging my new magic to seek out what I need, then suddenly, my mind is filled with a thick, dense fog. I inhale sharply.

I’ve done it.

I’ve entered her mind, her memories…or lack thereof. I don’t have time to marvel at the feat though before blurred fragments—half-formed and trembling—scatter into view, appearing so fleetingly I can’t tell what they are. I push my magic further, trying to latch onto anything tangible, and I watch as the flickers slowly take shape: a street, the glint of a tiny blade, the sound of footsteps somewhere close…then something dark lurches at me through the fog and I scream.

It’s my Shadow. Only, it’s not mine.

It's hers.

Thirty-Seven

Ijerk back violently, and the light from the lantern explodes as my magic is released in a wave, glass scattering, plunging me into semi-darkness. I stagger backward, heart pounding, and fall into a muscled pair of arms. A startled cry escapes me as the arms wrap around me tightly and a hand claps over my mouth, the other round my waist, holding me flush against a hard chest.

“Quiet,” a low voice murmurs against my ear. “It’s just me.”

The familiar and unmistakable scent of smoke and peppermint cuts through the cold.

Riven.

He came.

Relief crashes over me so quickly it’s dizzying. My body, all sharp edges of panic a moment ago, softens instinctively against him. The heat of his body seeps through my cloak, his breath brushing my temple.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers, though there’s no bite to it. His words tremble with something else entirely as he holds me close against him.

I nod, but neither of us move. The hand over my mouth slides away, slow and uncertain. I tilt my head just enough to see the faint outline of his face, his jaw shadowed, the faint rasp of stubble grazing my ear as he exhales. The air between us hums, charged and heavy.

For a heartbeat, the world narrows to the space between us—the ruined lantern, the taste of dust and magic in the air, the steady drum of his pulse against me. I exhale a shaky breath and he tenses, his lips brushing my ear ever so slightly, sending a shudder down my spine.

“What did you see?” he murmurs against the shell of my ear.

Heat coils low in my stomach at the feeling and I press my thighs together instinctively, the slight movement causing him to inhale sharply. The tension between us is so palpable, I’m afraid to move even an inch, lest I break it. This is so wrong, it’s Riven for Gods’ sake, and yet–

A sharp scratching noise breaks the silence and Riven pulls back from me abruptly, the spell between us snapping so hard it jars me. Panting slightly, he uses his magic to cast a ball of light, sending it hovering into the air above us, bathing us in a soft, blue glow. I look up at his face and a delicious warmth flushes through me when I meet his dark, heated gaze.

I bite my lip and he sucks in a breath.

Fuck. I’m in so much trouble.

I clear my throat and look away, my eyes landing on Quill as he hovers over his parchment.

So that was the scratching sound.

Riven’s attention snaps to the feathered pen, his eyes widening, mouth falling open. “Is that…a Quill?”

I watch him with narrowed eyes. “You’ve never seen one before?”

He tilts his head as he looks at me deadpan. “Obviously I have. What I haven’t seen is one that writes its own damn notes.”

“Yes, he’s rather useful, though he’s a sarcastic little shit sometimes, always siding with Stryx over me,” I mutter, and Quill scribbles something down in response. We both lean over to read in the dim light.

You’re being a dick again.

Of course.