Chapter 32
I don’t know how long Raker carried me, just that when I finally look up from his neck, sun is pouring down into the forest, right above us.
My body is curled tightly against his chest.
There’s a mess of vines blocking our path, and he shifts my weight to one arm, pulls his sword out with the other, slashes the vines to pieces, then sheaths it again. All in one smooth motion. Then both his arms are holding me again.
“Raker,” I say, and his focus doesn’t budge from in front of him. He’s alert and ready, just like he must be all the time on the battlefield, fighting countless rebels.
“Aris,” he says, the sound like ground stone.
I swallow. I still hate him. I hate that he didn’t even try to save those people.
Maybe we would have died, trying to go back, or trying to help more. I don’t know. I will always regret not at least giving them a chance.
But I also regret how I reacted. I don’t want to be as bad as him.
“I’m sorry I attacked you.” The words are forced. I’m sure he can tell.
He finally looks down at me, sun glinting off the metal of his mask, as if he’s shocked that those words seriously just left my mouth.
I think he might be about to answer.
Then, without warning, he lets go of me, and I stumble before managing to catch myself, even though my legs are still numb with sleep.
He summons his sword in a flash. “And I’m sorry you were so fucking bad at it,” he says.
Right. Stupid of me to think Raker could be tolerable for more than a few hours.
For a second, I wonder if he’s just going to finally get rid of me, but then he falls into his stance and says, “Try again.”
I blink. He can’t be serious.
He nods at my incredulous look. “Try harder this time, Aris.”
Hate. Me. Harder.
I reach back for my blade. Pull it from its sheath. Fall into my stance.
“All that rage?” he says. “Make it mean something.” Then, he’s on me again.
Our swords clash and skim and join and tremble against each other. And without the rush of anger, my head is clearer. I frown in focus, remembering every time I’ve watched him fight. Every little movement. Every detail. My memory is my advantage.
And I’ve been watching him.
Maybe too carefully.
I know his favorite moves. I know how I’ve reacted to them in the past. So, when he goes to shove me against a tree, lifting his blade to press it against my neck—
I duck around him, kick the back of his legs, use his own momentum to my advantage, and shove him against the trunk instead.
My metal is at his throat.
I’m panting against his chest. The sword is shaking in my grip.
Shit. I … I did it.
He’s not even winded. I’m not sure he was even fully trying.
His mistake.
A win is a win.
I lift to my toes, and lean in, very carefully, luxuriating in this rare moment I never thought would fucking happen. “All this metal slows you down, Raker,” I whisper, as close to his ear as I can get. “Hiding behind it might just be your downfall.” My lips curl into a smug grin.
I let the metal graze him for just another moment.
Then, I go to drop my blade, but his hand reaches up, stopping me. His long fingers curl over mine, swallowing them. “No,” he says. “Go ahead. Follow through with it.”
I frown. What?
“Come on, Aris,” he drawls, his voice a rasped challenge. His rough thumb gently brushes against my pulse, and my treacherous heart stutters. “You know you want to.”
The sword trembles even more.
But his grip doesn’t loosen. No, massive hand gripping mine, he guides my blade’s edge closer to his throat. Together, we dig it into his skin. Harder. Harder. Until blood drips down his neck. There’s a line of it, a thin mark on his previously unmarred skin.
My eyes widen, watching the crimson, horrified.
“There,” he says. “A memory of my weakness.”
Then, he drops his hand.
I stumble back, his blood on my blade.
A sight I never thought I would fucking see.
I open my mouth. Close it. Still unbelieving that I actually bested him, and that he marked himself with my sword.
“Good job, Aris,” he says as he walks past me, not even bothering to wipe away the blood.
Dueling becomes a daily event.
I never get close to beating him again, but that’s because he’s finally trying. Finally treating me—consistently—like a worthy opponent.
Even though he doesn’t know it, he’s training me to have a chance against the gods. It’s why I don’t mind the break in our journey, the few hours it takes for us to get all our frustrations out with our blades.
After one of these sessions, I draw the map for him, and together we decide to go north, to avoid the desert completely. It adds a few days to our travels, but I’d rather be in woods lush with berries and mushrooms and game, than in a sea of sands.
Thanks to the starlight, we can travel more hours of the day than ever. We sleep whenever we must. And instead of the old nightmares, I have new ones. I hear the immortals’ screams. The ones we ignored.
I look at Raker, and I see mercilessness.
But I also see the knight that carried me until I woke up. That has trained me, every day since I marked him, like he wants me to be able to do it again.
I don’t pin my hair up anymore, tying it into its two braids at the sides that become a long one down my back, using it as a cover over my eyes at night, to sleep while wearing my bright necklace.
But tonight, I just stare up at the stars. According to the map, we’re almost to the edge of the forest. Almost to the Land of the Gods.
This is what I wanted. It’s why I’m here.
But for some reason, my mind is filled with all the things I’ll have missed out on if facing the gods leads to my death.
“I’ve never seen the sea before,” I say, staring up at the sky. I don’t even know if Raker is still awake. We’ve been camped out here for over an hour now.
He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t.
Still, I turn to my side to face him. “Have you seen it?”
His hood is still on, just like his mask. I’m used to talking to fabric, but I have the strange urge to see his face. To see if he is truly the monster he acts like.
“I grew up by the sea,” he finally says.
I’m shocked into silence. It takes a few moments for me to say anything at all. “Was it … was it beautiful?” I ask, knowing all on Stormside has rapidly degraded since the gates.
“It used to be,” he says.
And that’s it. But now that he’s given me another tiny thread of his life … I want more. I want to know how this man became the most feared knight on Stormside.
“How did you claim your sword?” I ask.
By the tensing of his shoulders, it seems my question is a surprise. And, perhaps, unwelcome.
Right. Foolish of me to think he would be interested in having a lengthy conversation.
“It’s fine,” I say, scowling, turning back around. “I don’t know why I thought you’d—”
“I killed its wielder,” he says simply.
Of course. It makes sense. Still, I swallow. “Its wielder must have been powerful.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Not more so than me.”
I roll my eyes. “At least you’re humble.”
He turns toward me. His voice sharpens. “Should I lie? Should I pretend to be a simpering weak fool, the way you do?”
At that, I bristle.
“I saw you, at the Culling,” he continues, sitting up. I do too. “Shrinking into yourself, playing weak damsel until you got close enough.” He makes a derisive sound.
I saw you.
My back teeth scrape together. Never in a thousand years would I have imagined Raker had been watching me.
It makes sense. He was getting a good look at his supposed competition.
And he’s right about me. I do it often, on purpose. There is nothing stronger than a woman underestimated.
But his pointing it out, his knowing it was an act, makes me strangely furious. “You’re one to judge,” I say, getting closer, so I can say the words right at his face. “You’ve never been starving, you’ve never been without a family, you’ve never been imprisoned, and tied down, and tortured.”
“You don’t know what I’ve been,” he says sharply, ducking his head, just inches away. Wind howls around us. It blows my braid back. I just stare up at him, and that glimmering silver.
“You’re right,” I finally say. “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know your face. Tell me. Does building a wall around your heart make it hurt less?”
He stares me down. And his invisible gaze feels like a weapon itself. His sharp voice feels like one too. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have one,” he says, perhaps recalling all the times I’ve called him heartless.
“Well, at least you’re honest,” I say. “At least you know you’re a monster.”
That word … it makes him flinch.
And I’m still so angry about what happened in that forest that I want to dig in that knife and twist it. “Yes. That’s what you are,” I say. “You are heartless. You are a monster. You are merciless. I’m sure you wear those words with honor.”
“Mercy will get you killed,” he says, his voice rumbling just inches from my mouth.
I laugh without humor, remembering when he was merciless to me. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”
He shrugs. “I’m not the one with the nightmares, Aris,” he says.
Bastard.
I open my mouth—
And lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating everything, followed by a knee-wobbling crack of thunder.
I remember.
How soft the small patch of grass was beneath our fingers. How quickly the storm came rolling in.
How wide my sister’s eyes—
A hand locks around my arm. “Come on,” Raker yells, and that’s when I notice it’s raining. Badly. Out of nowhere, like the sky was just ripped open at the seams. “Let’s find somewhere dry.”
I open my mouth, trying to recall the surrounding landscape, then freeze.
It’s not just the skies. The ground is thundering.
Fuck.
Hooves. Horses, grunting.
The cavalry has found us again.
We start to run.
And the rain pours down harder. I don’t know if it’s to our advantage, or not, all I hear is those dozens of horses, getting closer.
“The light,” Raker says, looking over at me. I look down. It’s like a beacon, leading them right to us. Even through the rain.