Chapter 28 Devora
Devora
We stopped in a village at the base of the Mistwood Mountains to purchase two new horses for Arowyn and me for the rest of the trip.
Thank the Fates.
I could hardly sleep that night, what with the fear still pumping in my veins, the exhaustion of using all that power, the ghostly feel of claws scraping over my skin…
Things with Nox felt different. I couldn’t tell if it was a good different.
I still didn’t think he trusted me, and I wasn’t sure if I trusted him.
There was all this lingering animosity mixed with something new, something heated and tense and raw, and I didn’t know where it came from.
Was it born of anger? Distrust? Curiosity? Desire?
We both wanted the same thing: to take down Scarven. But there was so much we still held against each other. I betrayed his best friend, and he kept me locked up for three months. How were we suddenly supposed to work together?
My body was confusing adrenaline with desire, that was all. My mind knew better. Nox Duma was a fuse waiting to be lit. All that restraint coiled beneath his charm, begging to be released.
I just needed to put distance between us.
I hung back with Arowyn the next day, our second-to-last full day of travel. Everett and Nox talked strategy up ahead. They would occasionally bring us into the conversation, which felt like an improvement from the cold shoulder I got on the way to Tenebra.
It was wild how much things had changed in two and a half weeks.
I stared down at the reins, watching as my little shadows pulsed into view, wrapping around my fingers the way they liked to.
It was as natural as breathing at this point.
Thecae was right—they were part of me. Not something to control, but to complement.
And after they saved us without a thought in the carriage accident, I trusted them implicitly.
My own shadows were probably the best friends I ever had. I couldn’t decide if that was profound or tragic.
I knew they would help me with this mission. I hadn’t been able to shadow melt ever since the sparring session with Nox, but I’d been practicing shadow whispering. I’d done it before—subconsciously back at the Keep, and then again in the training grounds before we left.
Nox’s whispered confession still rolled through my mind. I knew he would never want me to admit I’d heard it.
“I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re becoming one of us now.”
The words wrapped around me, warming the chill from the cold Drakorum air. I’d never been part of something like this. Something so important, so meaningful. I’d searched for this feeling in all the wrong places, hoping one day the answers to my past and my family would be that solace for me.
I was beginning to think that maybe there was more than one kind of family.
“What are you smiling at?” Arowyn asked as we trotted along.
“Nothing.” I tucked my grin away. “So when are we stopping for the night?”
I dreamed of a rocking ship.
Waves rolling under a dark blue sky, stars reflecting off the crests like little diamonds.
A blue blanket wrapped around a smiling baby.
Shadows twirling and dancing between little fingers.
It was one of those moments where I knew it was a dream, knew my body was lying in a tent in Drakorum, but I didn’t want it to end.
Then whispers broke through the dream, carried on a dark cloud over the waters.
“No, please!”
“Not her. Take me—kill me—”
“Help me.”
I thought it was part of the dream, until a familiar snarl burst from the shadows.
I jolted awake in my bedroll. Sweat dampened my brow, but the flap of my tent had come loose, letting in a chill.
“Help me.”
That voice echoed again, along with a groan. My shadows circled my feet and twined up the blankets covering me. Something was wrong.
I hastily shoved off the blankets and grabbed the nearest cloak, throwing it over my shoulders as I crawled out of the tent. Tendrils of darkness unfurled toward the tent furthest from me, across the campfire that had long since dwindled.
Nox’s tent.
The whispers grew louder as I approached. There was a silhouette of a candle still burning inside the tent, illuminating it with a golden glow. I hesitated, then reached out to undo the buttons of the opening.
When I poked my head inside, I sucked in a breath.
Nox lay in his bedroll, thrashing in his sleep.
His pillow and blanket were shredded all around him.
Silver talons extended from his fingers, scraps of fabric caught on their tips.
Faint lines that looked like scars faded into his skin with every passing moment, as if he’d clawed himself in his sleep only to heal and do it all over again.
Without thinking, I rushed forward to kneel at his side and placed the back of my hand on his cheek. Fates, he was burning up.
I tried to keep my voice soothing. “Nox, if you can hear me, please—”
His eyes flared open, the silver slits of his dragon staring back at me.
In my next breath, he grabbed my waist and flipped me over so my back was on the ground and he was hunched over me.
He glared down, heaving breaths racking his chest. His ear-length hair hung wild and unruly past his forehead as he bared his fangs at me. Hints of fire and steel raged in his eyes. It was almost as if they were glowing, barely containing the power within.
Gone was the charming, silver-tongued man, and even the cold and angry captor.
This was the dragon.
I refused to be scared, not when I knew he was in pain. I lifted my chin and held his gaze. A devastating growl rumbled through the space between us, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
“Nox, it’s me. It’s Devora. You were having a nightmare.” When I spoke, he grabbed my wrists to keep me from moving, and I arched my back. “I—I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” I gasped.
He snarled again. His eyes flicked down to my neck, then to the cloak wrapped around my shoulders. His nostrils flared, but his breaths faltered.
To my surprise, he lowered his head to the fabric, breathing it in as his nose traveled down the length of it. The action was so predatory, so Shifter-like, that it made my muscles clench, nervous to flinch and risk his sudden movement.
“Devora?” he growled.
I slowly nodded. His breaths evened, but he didn’t move, his nose still tracing a path where the cloak met my neck. Instead of fear, heat burned through my core. My eyes fluttered shut as I exhaled.
He was so close. So warm. The top of his head brushed my cheek, and the stubble at his chin was rough even through the cloak. I swallowed hard when he breathed in again.
The tension snapped.
Before I could blink, Nox threw himself off me with a grunt, almost bringing down the tent as he crashed into it.
“You shouldn’t be wearing that,” he said, voice so low and gravelly, I hardly recognized it.
I scrambled back and tried to catch my breath. “What are you—”
“My cloak. You can’t wear that,” he seethed.
My eyebrows flew up. “You’re the one who gave it to me. What’s wrong?”
“It smells like me,” he forced out. “He—he can’t know. Scarven. He’ll smell it.”
I got to my feet and moved closer. “It’s okay, Scarven’s not here. You had a nightmare. You need to calm—”
“Don’t!” he roared, and I froze. “He’s going to know. I was an idiot. You can’t wear that anymore, Devora.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. How would he—”
Nox was before me in a flash, one hand wrapping loosely around my throat while the other tore the cloak from my shoulders. “You smell like mine, Devora. And he always wants what’s mine.”
I met his stare, startled by the fear in his eyes. Why was Nox so scared about this? With all the magic at our disposal, I was sure there was a way to mask my scent—a potion or spell, perhaps. No, something else was going on. Something deeper.
“Why does he care so much about you?” I whispered.
His lips lifted into a snarl. I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but a moment later, he released me and backed away. Unspoken anguish lined his features.
“Because he’s my brother.”
Silence filled the tent. I blinked several times to wipe away my shock. “He’s—he’s what?”
How was that possible? How had I not known? What kind of person kidnaps and tortures his own brother?
“Half-brother,” Nox amended, his voice returning to normal. He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. “We share the same father. He’s seven years older than me. We weren’t raised together. I didn’t even know who he was until he challenged our father for the governor’s position.”
“He killed his own father,” I said under my breath. My shoulders deflated. The turmoil of Nox’s past went deeper than I could’ve imagined.
I finally had all the missing pieces. I finally understood Nox’s role, his unbreakable ties to this man who ruined his life. How Nox knew so much about Scarven and the way his mind worked. Why he’d dedicated his life to the Ashen Order and rescuing those who couldn’t help themselves.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked softly.
“That my brother is a savage, ruthless murderer? Yes, I wonder why I failed to mention that part.”
“That doesn’t matter to me,” I said. “You can’t choose your family. None of that is your fault.”
He said nothing, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced toward the tent. The muscles in his shoulder flexed with the movement.
A strong gust of wind blew through the flap, and I shivered so hard, my teeth chattered. His gaze landed on the discarded cloak with a furrowed brow. He reached for it slowly, then crossed the space to wrap it around my shoulders.
I put a hand up. “Wait, I thought you said I couldn’t wear it?”
He swallowed. “But you’re cold.”
My traitorous, ridiculous heart actually stuttered. “Nox, I—”
“I overreacted. One more time won’t kill you.
We’ll figure out a way to hide it so he doesn’t know.
” He clasped the cloak at my neck, then planted his hands on my shoulders.
“He can’t know, Devora. Do you understand?
He cannot find out you’re—” He paused and licked his lips, eyes scanning mine.
“That we’re working together. He’ll stop at nothing to hurt you if he even suspects you know me. ”
I nodded. There was something more there, something lingering in the back of his stare, but I didn’t want to press. Not now.
“I understand,” I murmured.
He backed away. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“I’m not scared.”
His eyes flicked to my mouth, then up again. “You should be.”
“Are you?” I breathed out.
He tilted his head, the fading firelight from the candle in the corner catching his eyes. “Devora, darling, I’m always scared.”
A moment passed, the air so thick, it made it hard to breathe. I knew I should go back to my tent. But I was so desperate for more, to fill in the cracks of this man before me, to answer all the burning questions I had.
“Nox,” I started, “what were you dream—”
“Good night,” he said. Not angrily, not viciously. Simply resigned. His shoulders sagged, his features tired and haggard.
I nodded again, equally exhausted and exhilarated by what had just happened. I made my way to the tent opening and stepped into the frigid air. “Good night, Nox.”