Chapter 15 #2
Nenlyn cocked a brow. “He wants to die. He won’t return to the Singers until he rots away like all the dragons.
The gods call him, but he’s caught between our world and their realm.
He’ll remain there until he sheds his skin and pierces the veil.
” He rolled his die far more aggressively than necessary, like he tried to shake the life from it.
“You should know this. You hit your head when the dragon gave you that scar?”
“Maybe,” I ground out.
“Well, maybe you could try to avoid pointless questions in the future,” Teryn snapped.
Nenlyn eyed him. “Your cards really that bad, Teryn?”
He slammed down his cards, grumbled something under his breath, and tore off his leathers, tossing them into the corner.
Nenlyn leaned forward and mouthed behind his hand. “Don’t mind him. He’s angry you kissed Lilara.” But the motion moved a chain around his neck, one that sparkled unnaturally. As far as I could tell, it was but a silver amulet with a hexagonal pendant.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
“If you’re asking if I’ll trade it for the orange, the answer is no, not to mention you already bartered with it for a game.”
I stroked the edges of my hand, the cards fluttering rhythmically. “No, but it glitters strangely.”
He lifted it and let it swing before his wide grin. “Our Archon gifted it to me at one of his benefaction sacraments. I’d gone the last century, not asking for a damn thing and decided to show up once and see what he’d offer. He gave me this.”
“What is it?”
“An icebind. Keeps away the cold, but the blasted thing ran dry a few decades ago, as enchantments go. Can’t seem to get rid of it, though. He gave me a very gentle talking to, and thanked me.” He laid down a few cards. “Have you ever been? To receive the gifts you’re owed?”
The gifts? What gifts?
But before I replied, Lilara ran her finger down the table and mused loudly. “Rectorindel. Bit of a haughty title.”
Nenlyn tossed a spare die at her, hitting her square in the forehead. “I’d say he’s earned it. By all accounts, we should be dead.”
Teryn ran his fingers through his locks. “Worse than dead.”
What could be worse than dead?
And what the hell was a benefaction sacrament? All sorts of questions bubbled up, but I didn’t ask even a single one. These were all things I should already know, according to my disguise.
While I sank deeper in the chair, Lilara grabbed the dice and tossed them at Teryn. “Don’t be so down, you still look handsome.”
He cracked a small smile over his cards.
“But you’re still an unpleasant bastard,” Nenlyn added. “And that’s why we love you.”
A laugh escaped my lips, bubbling across the stables. These were the people Aelen warned me about. The ones who’d put a knife through my neck. I almost couldn’t believe it.
But after the smile left, Teryn returned to brooding, grabbing an open wine bottle and tipping it back.
What the king and our stories warned us of.
Dragon riders downing wine in a stable, bickering and laughing over dice. If only this were painted in the Hall of Echoes, I’d never have had a damned nightmare.
Lilara gave me a weak smile. “We’re glad you survived the ceremony. Not all attendees were so lucky. Just as quickly, the air and laugh were ripped from my lungs.
Had that grotesque scene been depicted, I would have had more nightmares. I nodded and continued the game, brushing away the shiver. I didn’t remember it being so chilly in the stables.
In the end, I won back the orange, to everyone’s dismay.
But in my weakness, I left it there to split amongst themselves.
After what we’d all witnessed, I figured they deserved it.
They didn’t fight as I left for the cottage.
When I entered, the shadows remained still and clung to the corners.
For that, I breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into the chaise.
I drifted off into dreams of muted blues and violent pastels when a knock ripped me from my sleep. It came again at the door before I managed myself off the lounge, and a third time as I stumbled across the room.
It burst open before I could get the handle. Aelen stomped in, trailed by shivering shadows and pale moonlight.
“Impatient,” I mumbled, stretching and yawning.
He tapped his foot. “I was worried about you. Why did you take so long to answer the door?”
“What? You barely waited.”
He huffed and crossed his arms, his lower lip quivering. “I knocked thrice… I was wondering if I could convince you to stay here. Perhaps instead with a bottle of wine and stimulating conversation?”
I raised a brow. “You’re implying you have stimulating conversation.”
He encroached into my space, towering over me and running his fingers down my side. “You seem quite stimulated when we converse,” he growled.
I sucked in a breath and forced him away—but his hand lingered.
It flushed a heat that I despised. “I need to learn, I need to train.” I bit my tongue and handed him my humility on a silver platter.
One I forged just for him, though it broke me.
I stepped closer and laid a hand on his chest. “Please help me.”
His jaw dropped as if I’d shattered something inside. But he didn’t protest, he merely took my hand and led us out the door. “Standing around will get nothing done. Hurry before sunup and the other riders flood the stables.”
That left something knocking in my gut, begging to be released. “Why are you so hesitant to be around the other riders?”
“They’re dangerous to you. If they caught a whiff of your pact, they’d end you quicker than you could protest.”
“But I talked to them in the tavern, they were friendly enough, and we have the same goal, killing my father—”
But before I finished, he yanked me to face him. “Those I’phri cannot see past their pain. I understand your goal, but you must live to see it. Their pain is real. Tangible, and for most of them, raw. Your face would only fan those flames, and in the ashes you’d be consumed.”
He tugged me along the paths once again, steering far from the haunting cries of the forest.
“They seemed kind.”
“You’re not wrong. They’re not bad people, but they have an axe to bury, and I fear you’d be a tantalizing target. If you value your life, keep far from them.”
“You told me that about the dragons, too.”
“And look where it got you,” he replied, raising my scarred arm. “You have a healthy fear of the cursed forest. I fail to understand why that doesn’t extend to the thing that can eat you in a single, unprovoked snap.”
He sped up, and I tripped over the gnarled roots trying to keep pace. “You said they can see my soul. If they can, then they should see I wish them no harm, despite my relation to my father.”
He slowed, and his fingers entwined further into mine, his grip tightening.
“Try to keep up,” he whispered, his velvety voice barely audible over the wind. “We have a long night ahead of us.”