Chapter Eighteen Inana
Chapter Eighteen
Inana
Snow falls by the end of our two-week stay in Thornfal. It isn’t too surprising considering winter solstice is mere days away, not to mention our proximity to the mountains. And since we’ve seen no return of aggressive Shades, our post has officially been served.
Dominic was hesitant to trust the letter Henderson delivered, but after a few back-and-forth communications with the nearest church, he validated the missive as authentic.
We have no choice but to trust it and go where we’re needed next.
Which is the village of Eldeen, a six-day journey north on the other side of the mountain pass.
We’ve only been traveling for a day and I’m already restless.
I sit in the back of the wagon, unable to find sleep despite the abundance of blankets, the steady motion of the wagon, and the peaceful semidarkness, broken by a single lantern.
Before we left Thornfal, we were gifted a cover for our wagon to keep out the winter elements.
When I asked Dominic why he didn’t have one before, he said he did, but it got destroyed by Shades.
Not a comforting thing to hear, but all right.
Regardless, even with such travel comforts, I can’t keep my eyes closed. And I seem to be the only one.
Bard, Harlow, and Calvin sleep soundly beside me, their soft snores and rhythmic breaths filling our small space. Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. Thornfal may have spoiled me by giving us such a large room and separate beds.
The last time I couldn’t sleep was the night I found Dominic on the rooftop. Just like then, I emerge from my blankets, wrap my cloak around me, and join him under the night sky.
I don’t meet his eyes as I climb through the canvas flap and onto the driver’s perch.
He doesn’t seem surprised to see me. Maybe he could sense I was awake.
Sloth greets me at once, a comforting weight on my lap as he lays his head on my thighs.
I’m grateful for his shadowy warmth amid the chill in the air.
Why did I come out here again? I blow hot breath into my hands, then pull my cloak closed around me.
The forest road is quiet, coated in a dusting of snow that brightens the night.
At least it isn’t actively snowing, the starry sky only partially obscured by clouds.
I spot a few Shades stalking by or peering out at us from the trees that flank the road.
It isn’t as unsettling as it was on our first journey, but I’m still not keen to draw their interest.
“Are you used to being awake at night now?” Dominic asks, voice low so as not to carry to the others. Or the Shades.
“Maybe that’s it,” I say, watching my breath form white puffs in the air.
Every evening during our last week in Thornfal, Dominic had us join him for his nightly watches.
We finally got to train in a way that felt like training, not merely adapting to a threat.
We practiced drawing Shades away from the village, entrancing them with our art without triggering their aggression.
It appears to be true that Shades only turn frenzied when provoked, either by violence against them or by frightened actions like screaming or running.
So long as we stayed calm, made no hasty moves, and expressed tranquility in our art, they remained harmless.
He angles his head to look at me. “It’s too cold for you to be out here.”
I roll my eyes. It hasn’t even been a minute and he’s already trying to get me away from him. “Yes, well, I’m bored. If I stay back there, I’m going to wake them up with my tossing and turning.”
His only reply is a grunt.
I assess him this time, realizing he’s without a cloak or even riding gloves. His hair is half tied back, his dark sleeves pushed partway up his forearms. “Wait, what about you?”
“My body temperature runs warmer than yours.”
“Really?” I remember assuming as much when I saw him napping in the clearing two weeks back without a blanket. I also recall how uncomfortably warm Lord Wheaton’s hand was when he grabbed me at the Wretched Lair.
“Bastien’s influence,” Dominic says.
I’m surprised. Not by what he said, for I know the sun god is responsible for turning the first Sinless.
He taught King Kaelum the Absolution ritual and showed him how to wield solar astrotheurgy to protect his chosen cities.
What surprises me is that Dominic offered an explanation so easily, without me dragging it out of him.
It reminds me of what he said on the stairs back at the inn.
Why would I wish what I am on anyone else?
He didn’t explain what he meant by that, and I’ve yet to find the right moment to ask.
The way he said it, the edge of pain in his voice, told me he hadn’t meant to say it at all.
For now, it’s a puzzle piece in the mystery that is Dominic Graves.
I hadn’t even realized he was a mystery until Henderson’s Summoner confronted me.
I’m starting to think she was right—there’s something strange about the way Dominic operates.
He collects Shades instead of encouraging them to Incarnate with a sacrifice so he can kill them.
He offers his Summoners not Absolution but freedom.
Yet he’s been betrayed by his Summoners.
And even though he supposedly wouldn’t wish what he is on anyone else, he seeks to complete his Absolution.
A puzzle indeed. One I’ll have to tread carefully to figure out.
My eyes drop to the side of his face, the scar that runs over his cheekbone, half hidden in his short beard.
He frowns, and I realize how intently I’m staring. “What?” he says.
Heat floods my cheeks, and my embarrassment shifts into a wicked impulse. Before I can think better of it, I reach from under my cloak and press my icy fingertips to his cheek. I expect him to flinch back, to hiss at my cold touch, but he doesn’t. He freezes and then…
His lashes flutter shut.
A soft sound of contentment rumbles deep in his throat.
I snatch my hand back just as fast, my heart racing.
As he opens his eyes, a wry grin forms on his lips. He looks at me sidelong. “What? I thought you were warming your hands.”
“I was…trying to bother you.”
“You’ll have to try harder than that, sinner.”
I suppose the one benefit to my mortification is that I’m suddenly hot all over.
He angles his head, exposing his neck. “Go on. Warm yourself up.”
I hate how tempted I am. He was warm indeed, in the brief moment I touched him.
So, gingerly, I press my fingers to the crook of his neck, delighting in his warmth.
I can’t help wondering how much warmer his skin might be beneath his jerkin.
How hard his muscles might feel under my palm.
How far he’d let my hands roam beneath his shirt, over his abdomen, beneath his waistband—
Biting the inside of my cheek, I banish my imaginings and pull my hand away.
Before I can get far, Dominic grabs my wrist. I don’t know what he’s about to do.
Probably chastise me for having touched him, even though he’s the one who told me to.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he gently tugs me closer until my hand is back where it was, palm splayed over the side of his throat, my fingertips tucked against his nape.
It’s how I’d hold someone while kissing them.
How I’d pull a lover closer to deepen said kiss.
Dominic meets my gaze, his lids heavy with something that looks like want.
Like the way he looked at me on the roof.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a breathy whisper.
“Cooling myself down,” he says. “Neither of us would like it if I got too hot.”
My breath hitches and I get the feeling his words hold double meaning. Not just the warmth of his skin but also the fire that has sparked between us.
A dangerous fire.
One neither of us should touch.
Because he’s a fucking Shadowbane. Loyal to the Sinless I hate, and one day fully one of them. And I am merely his servant.
Even after reminding myself of this, the heat between us doesn’t cool. It only rises until a sizzling ember shapes my bold reply. “Is that so? What would happen if you…got too hot?”
His voice is thick as he answers. “We’d both catch fire.”
My breaths turn shallow. I let my thumb drift over his neck, a subtle motion that has his skin prickling into gooseflesh beneath my touch.
I watch with satisfaction as his throat bobs, and I get the sharpest urge to grab him by the collar and pull him into a kiss.
A kiss of hatred and desire. We’d both be set aflame, just like he said.
I’d be helpless to the burn, aching beneath those rising flames until I couldn’t take it anymore.
Until I needed more. Then I would throw one leg over his lap, straddling him, riding him until the need between my legs was finally sated—
A sound nearly escapes my lips. Whether a sigh or a moan I don’t find out, instead shifting it into a cough. I clear the lust from my throat and the fantasies from my mind. When I remove my hand, he makes no move to pull me back to him. “You’re right,” I say. “Neither of us would want that.”
“Neither of us,” he agrees, and shifts his eyes back to the road. I dare not look at him, afraid of what I’ll see; disappointment or relief would be equally unwelcome.
My hands feel chilly after the heat of Dominic’s skin, so I tuck them beneath my cloak.
“I’ll keep you warm,” Sloth says, his head once again in my lap, shadowy tail wagging off the edge of the footrest. He’s a welcome distraction while I gather my composure.
“I can too, love,” Lust says as a phantom arm drapes over my shoulder. His form coalesces between me and Dominic, a seductive grin on his lips. His likeness to the Shadowbane is so convincing it compromises all my efforts to regain my senses.
“I’m fine right where I am,” says a grumpier voice.
Pride appears on Dominic’s other side, arms folded over his semitransparent chest. I’m grateful for his grounding presence, as haughty and aloof as he is.
I can always count on him to keep his distance.
“Though I’ll consider keeping you company if you ask nicely. ”
I huff a laugh, then realize my mistake as Dominic’s eyes shoot to mine.
“You really can hear them,” he says.
I sink down slightly, lips curled in a grimace. I’ve tried my best to hide it, knowing I’m the only one of us who seems able to hear his Shades. “Is that…rare?”
“It is,” he says. “I can’t hear any Shades but my own.”
Sloth paws at my lap, so I pet the top of his head despite the icy air that nips my fingers.
At least the cold air and soft fur keep me from thinking about how just a minute ago hot skin was beneath my hand.
I hazard a glance at Dominic, ready to ask him more about his Shades, but he’s gone rigid.
Alert. Eyes narrowed on something beside the road.
I follow his line of sight.
There’s a small clearing among the trees to the right, where three wagons like ours are parked.
There’s no sign of a campfire, no horses tethered nearby.
It isn’t the first time we’ve come across abandoned wagons left in shambles after a Shade attack.
But at second glance, these aren’t old and weathered or covered in moss and ivy.
As we draw nearer, I see that despite the lack of a fire, there is a pit around which several bodies sit. No, not sit.
Slump.
Over logs, a stump, on a cot. Only one of the bodies remains upright, the bright snow illuminating their back, the subtle movement of their shoulders.
“Fuck,” Dominic whispers.
“What is it?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“Wake the others. Don your masks.”
“Is it…”
He gives a sharp nod. “Incarnate.”