Chapter 47
47
R achelle had volunteered to shift into a horse to carry Tristen the rest of the distance, but she only had enough magic left to transform into a pony. Well—Callum had called her a pony, and Rachelle shot back that she was just a small horse and had no more power left to be a normal-sized horse, but she definitely wasn’t a pony. I could tell Tristen was too heavy for her, but she was too proud to let us know, and trotted on beside us as we continued through the graveyard.
Callum stuck by my side, occasionally casting glances at Tristen’s limp body.
I caught one of those glances and glared at Callum. “We are not leaving him behind,” I said.
Callum held up his hands. “Your idea, not mine.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please, Callum, just let up on him already. He was willing to fight and die for us to give us time to escape.”
Callum glared. “I would have helped if you hadn’t sent me away with Rachelle.”
I sighed, every cell in my body feeling bone-tired and weary. “She needed you.”
“ You needed me.”
“I held my own just fine,” I said. I hadn’t processed what had happened, not really. The sun had started to dip in the sky and I knew we needed to get to the edge of The Eternal Sands before night fell.
“I know,” Callum said, defensive. “But you went and fought for him.”
My eyes flickered back to him. “Why is that a big deal?”
Callum fought to hide the hurt in his expression. “Because he wants you dead, Saffron.”
“Let me pick my own battles,” I said.
Callum shook his head. “I can’t let you choose him over you. You need to survive these trials. Do you think a rebel assassin deserves to come out alive from this?”
Yes , a voice inside me answered. It was a small one. I didn’t quite know why I wanted to defend Tristen against Callum’s accusations. Tristen had caused the greatest injury of them all—he had stolen my memories. And he had shown no remorse when I confronted him about it. Yet, for some reason, we kept trying to die for each other. We kept fighting so the other one would live. Why would a heartless assassin put himself in harm’s way for me?
A part of me dared to hope that Tristen cared about me. But why? He had a wife . One who was willing to make a deal with the likes of Cassandra to try and get him out alive. Not to mention a kingdom—Tristen was happily keeping his secret that he was the King of Stormgard, not just an assassin. What would happen to his people and his cause if he died here in these trials?
Was Tristen just keeping me around so he would have an easy victory in the final trial?
“We’ll camp up here for the night,” Callum said, and I looked up as we passed the outskirts of the dragon eggs. In front of us spilled endless dunes of sand, as vast and infinite as the ocean.
Priscilla, Issac, and Henry had already stopped, surveying the small clearing that marked the divide from the desolate flatlands of Dragon’s Tail and the beginning of the endless sand dunes that were The Eternal Sands—which did, in fact, look like a very eternal amount of sand stretching into the horizon. There were six sad-looking palm trees bent with thirst that provided a bit of shelter for the night, and some underbrush and branches beside them would that provide some kindling for the fire.
We reached the others, and Callum and I hoisted Tristen off of Rachelle’s pony form and laid him down underneath one of the palms.
Issac walked over to us. “I’ll watch over him if the rest of you want to go look for a water source to fill our waterskins.”
I appraised the boy, but I saw a flash of something I didn’t like in his gaze as he eyed up Tristen’s form. Tristen was powerless. Limp. Exposed. Issac had been impressed by Tristen earlier in the trials—but I knew a part of him wanted to prove his dominance, and maybe by seeing to Tristen’s own end.
I sat down crosslegged next to Tristen on the sandy ground. “It’s all good,” I said with a smile, unhooking my waterskin from my belt with a flourish and tossing it at Issac, who caught it with a frown. “I’m beat from saving you and transforming into a dragon. I think I’ll rest here while you go search for water.”
Issac frowned at me, and I saw his intention clear as day as his right hand twitched near his holstered dagger. He wanted Tristen dead before he faced him in a death match. I didn’t blame him, but I wouldn’t let anyone near Tristen in such a helpless state. I owed that much to him when he had been willing to die for us moments ago.
Callum glimpsed what I did, and clapped a hand on Issac’s arm. “Now’s not the time. Let’s go.”
Rachelle shifted out of pony form and then into an armadillo. She rolled around a bit, and then flashed back into a human form.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “An armadillo? That’s new.”
“I thought I’d be less thirsty in that form. Turns out I’m equally thirsty in all forms right now,” Rachelle grumbled.
Priscilla stopped at the edge of camp. “Rachelle, would you be able to help us scout a water source?”
Rachelle sighed. “Sure, I’ll be the linchpin holding the group together again.” She leapt into the sky—but she was now a tiny sparrow, and I saw the effort it took her to keep her wings flapping as she fought against the breeze pushing her back.
She soared above as Priscilla led the way on the quest for a water source, Callum casting me one last glance before following the rest of the group. Henry and Issac followed after them as well.
As the others left me alone with Tristen, I turned back to the sleeping man lying beside me in the sand. The hard lines of his handsome face had softened in sleep, and he looked younger. More vulnerable. It reminded me of the rare few times I’d seen his brooding demeanor slip and he laughed or smiled— truly smiled.
I reached out my hand, brushing dark strands of hair out of his face, which had been soaked with sweat and exhaustion. The cool breeze coming off the sand dunes had made the air considerably colder, and the chill only intensified with the darkening night. If I wanted to, I could get up and stretch and get some movement in my body. But something kept me tethered to Tristen’s side, pulling me to him as I continued to brush his dark hair out of his face. I traced the edge of his sharp jaw, and found my fingertips brushing over his lips.
A memory of us tangled in his tent before the second trial flashed in my mind, and I froze, feeling my body react to the memory. Something fluttered low in my stomach, and I moved to take my hand away, but Tristen’s hand reached out and grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t stop,” he mumbled, his eyes still closed.
“Okay,” I said, and my fingertips resumed their thoughtful exploration of his face, his neck, and I brushed them over his collarbones, stopping at his chest where the top of his shirt was unbuttoned. “You never wear any armor to these trials.”
He opened one eye and grinned at me. “Don’t worry, I’m hard to kill.”
I frowned. “Didn’t seem that way when your shadows made to make you their dinner earlier.”
“Is that worry I hear?”
My eyes flickered back to his. “Maybe,” I admitted.
His answering smile seemed to light up every corner of this darkening wasteland. “Seems like I should fight undead dragons in front of you more often.”
“Please don’t,” I said, yanking my hand away. “You almost lost control today.”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever lost control of your power before?”
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t talk about it,” Tristen replied.
“Because you can’t. Right.”
“No. Because reliving it…” he shuddered. “Being asphyxiated by the darkness is worse than death. The fear is still there. The realization that you are being swallowed whole by something greater than yourself is there. But there is no peace, no calm that you would get in death.”
“I get that,” I whispered. “I feel this swirl of nothing in the place of where my memories used to be. Sometimes I wonder if it will swallow me whole one day.”
Tristen grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Taking my memories?” I shot back.
With great effort, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, facing me. “Yes and no. I said I would do it again and I meant it. Maybe in the future you’ll understand why. But that doesn’t mean I wish you pain. I don’t. I wouldn’t wish the emptiness of the void onto anyone.”
“Thanks. But your apology isn’t accepted,” I said, but my anger didn’t rise in me like it usually did. Maybe it was because I had heard the sincerity in his tone.
He chuckled. “I don’t expect you to.”
“Good.”
Tristen looked at me, thoughtful. “You absorbed powers from the dragon’s egg. That shouldn’t be possible and yet… I saw you.”
“What did I look like?”
Tristen gazed at me with a kind of wonder in his eyes. “You were still you. Mighty. Fearsome. Fire-breathing. Oh, and you had some very pretty scales.”
“I’m glad you think my dragon form was pretty,” I joked.
He reached up and tugged the back of my braid playfully. “Pretty terrifying, that’s for sure. You were also speaking in tongues, saying things to calm down the dragon. Do you remember that?”
“I think so. But how did you know what I was saying?”
“Because I’m incredibly smart,” he said, grinning.
“Yeah, sure,” I said as I rolled my eyes.
“I also hear them when I sleep,” Tristen said, the admission coming out sincere.
I quirked my head at them. “You hear the voices of dragons in your sleep?”
“More than that. I hear the voices of the ancient ones. The gods, the dragons—it’s not the best way to fall asleep, but I’ve picked up a few words here and there.”
“Why do they speak to you?”
Tristen hesitated. He looked so tired, so exhausted . “The god who gave me my power has plans for me. And I’ve been trying to avoid those plans for a very long time.”
I felt the burden he bore in that moment, and it ran heavy and deep. “Can’t you tell him no?”
Tristen laughed. “Of course you would have the courage to say no to a god, Saffron. You’re braver than I.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
“Aside from all of the dragon slaying you’ve been doing lately? You snuck into my tent to steal a married man’s powers using your feminine wiles. That’s pretty brave.”
“I would do it again,” I said, throwing his words back at him before my brain fully registered what I had just admitted. Fuck—what did I just say?
Tristen looked up at me with surprise that quickly melted into a knowing smirk. “Oh, so you did walk away with something other than my power that night, did you?”
“Maybe,” I said, not meeting his gaze even as I felt warmth pool into my veins.
In a flash, Tristen’s face was inches away from mine as his fingertips caressed my shoulder, one of his legs bent casually as he leaned against it. “You still think about our kiss, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“How long?” he asked, the words heating like hot coals as his gaze raked over me.
My mouth went dry as I tried not to lose focus from the way his fingertips dipped to the back of my neck, drawing slow circles on my bare skin. “How long what?”
“How long do you want me to wait? Because I’d wait an eternity for you. I’d watch kingdoms rise and fall into ash. I’d watch the cosmos rearrange themselves anew if it meant I could be with you.”
“Tristen,” I breathed, suddenly too aware of how close my lips were to his.
His fingertips dipped down my spine, and his light touch made me shudder and move closer to him. “I’d wait for you even if you chose another. I’d wait for you to see that he was wrong for you, wait for you to see that I was the piece that fit perfectly for you. If it’s waiting you want me to do, I’d wait until the realms collapsed into utter oblivion if that’s what it would take for me to have you. But until you tell me that what you need is time, I will fight for you. I’ll die by your side and fight for you to see me the way that I do you. Waiting is easy. It’s the fight that I want you to see from me. To know that I am worthy of you.”
Every piece of me trembled at his words. His confession rearranged my heart, my mind, my soul. It struck something deep within me that I knew in that moment I would never be the same.
“What about your wife?” I breathed, trying to make sense of the rightness of him, of us.
“Melisandre, she’s not—” suddenly Tristen was coughing. He turned to his side, spitting out blood on the sand beside him. It was as if something was keeping him from speaking.
Suddenly, a scream of a hawk sounded above us.
I turned away from Tristen as Rachelle landed in front of us and shifted back into her human form, hunched with exhaustion.
She looked at Tristen. “Good, you’re awake.” Her gaze shifted to me. “There will be no sleeping tonight. We need to cross the dunes. Now .”