CHAPTER TWO #2
He attempts a weak smile, his gaze dropping to the ground.
Regret floods me. They were the last words I said to him the day the mine exploded, killing anyone nearby.
Evren was far enough from the explosion to escape with his life, but not his health.
His lungs were scarred, and he’s crippled by the knowledge that he shouldn’t have been anywhere near the mine.
It wasn’t his fault. He was only eight years old, and our mother had promised me she would keep both of them safe. But nothing I say or do lessens his guilt.
I watch them go, shoving and wrestling as they disappear into the Thorn.
The crystals in the shower are out of aether, so the water is cold. I grimace through it, refusing to wash my hair until I pay for the crystals to be replenished later. After, I pull on leather leggings, a fitted shirt, and my boots. Weapons are next, followed by a thick cloak.
Thankfully, the lock on our door still holds enough aether to keep the apartment secure. Not that we have anything to steal. I turn it, step outside, and immediately begin to shiver in the chilled air.
One day. One day, we’ll go north. To warmth and humidity. Where my brother can breathe easier, and no one knows who I am. Where they can get a proper education. Where I don’t see ghosts around every corner. Where we can start fresh …
In the meantime, Fallon is waiting in the Thorn’s small training arena. And if I’m not there to make disparaging remarks about her knife skills, she might become overconfident before it’s her turn in the Sands.
I’m grateful for my cloak, even with the sun on my face. The sun will burn away the worst of the chill within a few hours, but the dampness will remain, as it always remains in the Thorn.
AT LEAST TEN people are training today, all of them carefully ignoring one another. Nothing reminds you that you might end up killing your neighbor quite like practicing next to them each morning for years.
I don’t know why I work with Fallon every damned day. She once told me she wants to win the Sands and join the Praesidium Guard. She may have the skill, but she’s not a natural killer. And the Sundering rewards ruthlessness.
I sigh. I train her because if I leave her to her own devices, she’ll bounce into the emperor’s arena with the enthusiasm of a puppy. And she’ll die.
Her footwork is improving, but she still hesitates when forced to use her left hand to swing her sword, as if her body is screaming at her that the movement is unnatural.
“You’re doing it again,” I call.
She spots me and curses. “I’m almost as fast with my left hand as my right.”
“Almost isn’t good enough.” The words are bitter, and I force myself to take a long, slow breath. “Show me your mixed drill.”
With a nod, she turns, her long red hair flying with the motion. Her sword sweeps through the air as she nimbly switches her hands, holding her right arm at her side as if it’s now useless. She pants, gazing at me.
“Better.” I nod.
“Want to spar?”
“I would, but I need to go to Mataras. I’m only here today to remind you that you’re still too slow.”
She glowers at me, and her knuckles turn white around the hilt of her sword. But when her gaze drifts behind me and her cheeks heat, it’s not difficult to guess who she’s looking at.
Carrick.
He’s leaning against the wall at the edge of the training arena, and for the barest moment, I see another man in his place, a hint of a smile curving his lips as he watches me train.
I blink, and it’s just Carrick once more, the silver of his sigil glinting in the sunlight as he pushes tousled blond-brown hair off his face.
“Work on that mixed drill,” I mutter to Fallon.
“I thought I’d walk you home,” Carrick says as I cross the clearing to him.
“I’m not going home.”
He folds his arms. “Then I’ll walk you wherever you want.”
“Carrick.”
“Another body turned up. Heart missing, just like the others. It’s not just mundanes, either. Three sigilmarked have been killed in three weeks. Two of them went missing in the middle of the day.”
I chew on my lower lip. That makes nine bodies since the first death less than two months ago. I’m not surprised Carrick is paying close attention. He knows everything that happens in the Thorn.
“Evren and Gerith—”
“They’re with a group of friends. Those who went missing were alone.”
“Fine.” I turn, striding toward the road. He effortlessly falls into step beside me.
Who would want to do such a thing to the people here? Taking their hearts would suggest there’s some ritualistic purpose to the murders, and yet it could merely be a final insult from a deranged killer.
Carrick nudges me with his elbow. “What are you thinking?”
I tell him my thoughts, and he casts me an appreciative look. “I’m leaning toward the first option. Taking someone’s heart is time-consuming. Messy. But the wardens refuse to investigate.”
“Shocking.” I take a left, marching past Perrin’s apothecary and heading toward the main thoroughfare. Years ago, Kas and I used to pick flowers in her garden and sell them to nobles along this road as they traveled back into Lysoria.
“So,” Carrick says, and I ready myself for his next words. He’s so predictable at this point that I could almost mouth them along with him.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“You know I’m not.”
“And don’t you think that’s a shame?”
We’re walking past a bakery, and the warm, inviting aroma of freshly baked bread makes my stomach howl.
Unsurprisingly, the hunger pangs don’t improve my already dark mood.
I narrow my eyes at Carrick. The only reason he’s continuing this line of questioning is because I’m the only woman he knows who doesn’t blush and stutter when he’s around.
“No.”
Ignoring Carrick’s wounded expression, I consider my route to Mataras.
The Thorn’s residents rely on a system of favors and debts to get what we need.
Leofric owes me a favor, and since Harriston owes Leofric a favor—and Harriston also regularly travels to Mataras to trade for leather—I’m hoping Leofric will get me a ride in Harriston’s cart.
“It’s been years, Velle.”
And just like that, Carrick has crossed a line. My nails cut into my palms and I force my hands to unfist. “Stop.”
Carrick shakes his head at me. “I know you both liked to think you were fated or something. A great love story. All I can see is that he left you, and instead of moving on, you’re frozen in time.”
His words slice and slash, carving away pieces of me. The pieces I need to function.
Of course it would be today of all days when Carrick decides on a full-fledged attack. I pick up my pace, barely avoiding a horse and cart as the owner curses at me. If I don’t make it to Harriston before he leaves, I’ll have no way to get to Mataras.
My head spins as Carrick pushes me back against the closest wall. “He is never. Coming. Back.”
I shove him in the chest. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“I think part of you still hopes for it.” His expression is agonized.
“Then you don’t know me at all.” If I ever saw Ti again it would take everything in me not to kill him.
Knocking Carrick’s hands away from me, I pivot, stalking back down the street.
“Did you ever think maybe I don’t want anyone? I’m doing just fine.”
He lets out a hoarse laugh. “Fine? I haven’t seen you smile for six years. You’re hard and cold. You can’t just push everyone away for the rest of your life.”
My breath shudders out of me. Carrick takes hold of my wrist, a shark smelling blood. “Life doesn’t have to be this difficult. Marry me, and we’ll leave. We’ll take the twins and go somewhere warm.”
He could make it happen. His father is one of the wealthier residents of the Thorn, but Carrick has never relied on his family’s money. No, he’s worked since he was old enough to dream of getting out of this place.
He’s offering me everything I want. Except I used to fantasize about hearing those words before—long ago, from another man.
I shake my arm warningly, and Carrick lets me go with a rough curse. “I won’t wait for you forever, Arvelle. I want a family someday. I want it with you, but if you’re determined to waste away in this place …”
I stop, pushing a strand of dark hair off my face. “Enough.” My voice comes out weaker than I expected. The problem with Carrick is that he knows me too well. He knows how much I hate it here. He knows I’ve always longed to see the markets of Hillian, the fortress of Direcliff, the Sirensong Isles.
But I can see exactly how this will go. I’ll put my trust in him. Worse, I’ll trust him with my brothers too. I don’t have another heartbreak in me. When it falls apart, I’ll fall apart too.
“I’ve got to go.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “You’re making a mistake.”
Probably. Sometimes it feels like all I do is make mistakes. Why should this be any different?
“Goodbye, Carrick.”
He frowns at me, opening his mouth.
“Velle!”
I whirl. And the slow, sickening sensation of doom slides over my body as I meet Gerith’s eyes. His face is so pale he looks gray, his cheeks streaked with tears. He’s panting, leaning over, out of breath from running.
“It’s Ev.”