Chapter 16
Vane spent the afternoon showing her how to mount and dismount Thessa quickly before and after flight.
She avoided his eyes, and he hardly spoke to her aside from orders or instruction.
Thessa was quiet too, though as Soren dismounted for the final time and walked from the field, she could feel the dragon’s knowing gaze on her.
Had Thessa somehow sent her the vision? She was nearly certain she was seeing through the same eyes—that nameless goddess from her dreams. Perhaps she was the rider Thessa had once spoken of, but how could Vane have been there?
She didn’t know his age, but he appeared perhaps only a few seasons older than Soren herself.
Maybe the man she’d seen was a blood relative of his.
That had to be it. It was the only plausible explanation.
“Do we eat dinner together too?” she forced herself to ask as they reached the edge of camp.
Vane didn’t look at her as he replied flatly, “No. I have a meeting with the commander.”
“Right. I’ll see you in the morning—”
“And after, we’ll meet back in the field for more training.”
She stiffened. “At night?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
But he didn’t reply, stalking towards the center of camp. She ground her teeth and headed back to the field. There was no way she was showing her face around the other riders again. It was bad enough she had to sleep in Cion’s tent.
When she arrived back in the field, there was a small pack sitting next to Thessa, who was curled up in a ball, asleep—or at least Soren thought she was until she spoke.
He left that for you.
Soren eyed the pack. When?
You were busy sulking and avoiding him. He brought it while we were airborne.
Soren didn’t reply, peeking inside the pack. Her stomach rumbled rebelliously as she saw three portions of dried meat, a half loaf of bread, and a plum. Thessa closed her eyes and went back to ‘sleep,’ though Soren was fairly certain she was still watching.
With a loud sigh, she muttered, “Why does he have to be a nice asshole?” then pulled the food out and promptly devoured it before she could let herself think too much about where he’d gotten it or why he had given it to her.
A slow hour passed. She finished the food as the sun dipped below the horizon, trading places with the waxing moon.
Her eyes grew heavy, but she fought the prospect of sleep.
That meant more dreams, and she was growing afraid of what she would remember when she awoke.
She had a bad feeling that just because the goddess had sent Vane’s lookalike away, it would not be the last time she saw him in the visions.
Vane didn’t return until what had to be nearly midnight. He looked tired, and his hair was wet, as if he had just freshly washed. She stood as he approached, but she let him speak first.
“Have you considered the commander’s offer?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
She bit her cheek, tasting copper. The commander must have told him about it during their ‘meeting.’
“I can’t really refuse it.”
“Your life is yours.”
She let out a puff of air. “It won’t be anything at all for much longer if I refuse.”
Vane’s expression sharpened. “What exactly did he say to you?”
“I thought you knew.” She felt empty as she spoke. She was sure he knew, had to be toying with her, but she was too tired to play.
Except he lowered his chin and said roughly, “Soren. What exactly did the commander say to you?”
She paused, considering her next words. If the commander hadn’t told Vane everything, it had to be for a reason. She didn’t trust either of them, but she had to decide now which of them she wanted to trust more.
“It doesn’t matter,” she finally told him after a few tense moments, deciding not to put her faith in either man. “What exactly are we doing out here in the dark?”
“He threatened you.”
“As he tends to do.”
“Don’t be so damn stubborn and just tell me what he—”
“Vane.”
She meant to snap at him, but his name on her tongue came out much softer than she had meant.
He stilled, and his eyes widened incrementally as he gazed back at her.
He took a step closer to her, inclining his head down—not to touch her, but almost as if to just be closer to her.
The air suddenly felt cloistered and warm, despite the cold of the season settling around them.
Her chest felt tight, but neither of them moved further, locked in some understanding as they stared at each other.
Something was beginning to shift between them, and she knew she needed to resist it.
If they remained as they were, simply a soldier and her trainer, they could pretend they were safe.
She could be safe. Still, Soren felt the shimmer there, a threat just as great as any army or tyrant king.
Caring for someone in a world such as this was a dangerous game to play.
He broke the spell first. “You ate.”
“Yes… Thank you.”
“You’ll need your strength for tonight.”
She pressed her lips together, unease twisting her stomach. “How exactly am I supposed to practice my magic? It just kills people.”
Vane lowered his chin, circling her. The heated moment had still not dissipated, and his eyes were dark even as he asked her, “How many people have you killed at once?”
She looked down, shame heating her face as she twisted her hands.
He would be disgusted if she told him. Anyone would be, though maybe that was for the best. Perhaps if he knew exactly what she could do, he would stay away from her.
Maybe it would stop him looking at her like he wanted something from her.
She forced herself to look up, to look at him. “Five.”
“Were they armed?”
“I… No.”
“Fighting you?”
“No, but—”
“Were you emotional?”
She huffed out a breath. “Yes. They made fun of my hair.”
“Children?” His expression was flat, void of disgust, or really any emotion at all.
She tightened her jaw. She just needed to say it. “Yes. Children from my village in Mise. I didn’t understand what I was doing. It just happened.”
He nodded. “Just like yesterday, you were angry, out of control and unfocused. We need to ensure you are none of those things on the battlefield, or instead of being a killer, you will be killed.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
The words were about more than just what he had said. She didn’t know why he was still looking at her the same way, why he wasn’t suddenly disgusted or afraid. Anyone with sense would be.
But Vane just stopped circling her and explained, “Your magic needs to be second nature to you, not something that erupts from you when you’re angry or afraid. You need to be afraid and still be able to access it.”
“And how in the gods’ names am I going to achieve all that in two weeks?”
His answer was brutally stark. “Practice. Right now, there are three traitors to the crown waiting in an unmarked tent not far from here. You’re going to kill them.”