Chaos and Trust #2
“You should hold on,” I advise, wondering if this will be the moment she breaks her silence. “I’m going to get down, and I don’t want you to fall.”
Wren doesn’t say anything, which is not out of the ordinary, but her hands shift to the saddle, her movements slow and shaky.
I dismount with ease, having ridden hundreds of times before, and my feet land silently on the stone. I straighten, my eyes automatically finding Wren.
She’s hunched over the saddle, her eyes hooded and fingers wrapped around the pommel. Heavy bags hang under her eyes, and her Mark rivals the blue sky in its brilliance, but the sadness in her gaze cannot be missed. Where is her fire? Her strength? It must be in there somewhere, beneath this pain.
Wren is strong. Leaving her sisters must’ve hurt, but she can get past this. She is as smart and cunning as she is beautiful, and I know she can survive this.
If she wants to.
I’ve seen people give up before. Lose the will to live and slowly fade into nothing. I can’t imagine standing by and watching that happen to Wren.
My stomach contorts, and my fingers twitch. I want to pull her down and hold her to my chest, whispering sweet nothings in her ear until she finds her strength. I want to wipe the frown off her face and smooth the crease between her brows. I want to insist she let me make things better for her.
I don’t know why I feel this way or want these things, nor do I understand why I’m drawn to her. Why does her unhappiness feel like my unhappiness?
None of this makes any sense.
My rational side knows that even though Wren practically acknowledged she could feel this pull between us, I’m still nothing to her.
Well.
That’s not exactly true.
I don’t think she’s indifferent towards me. The way she says my name and the fire that lights in her eyes when she speaks to me all point to how she feels about me: She hates me. I should begrudge her for that, but I don’t.
How can I, when I was hunting her? We were at odds with each other—predator and prey. It would be foolish of me to expect her to look past it, let alone ask her to forgive me for my actions. I don’t even know if I can forgive myself for bringing gods-blessed to their deaths.
In doing so, I was no better than my father.
A shudder sweeps down my spine, and I force those thoughts away. This isn’t the moment to think about how I played a part in the demise of the Given or the fact that I was a cog in the machine of death my father has created.
Right now, I need to focus on keeping us safe.
Now that we are further from the capital, hopefully it will be more difficult for the king to find us. His power is immense, and even though I don’t know how it works, I know he can sense those who have been touched by his magic. Especially those of us who carry forged bonds.
Slipping my fingers into my pocket, I rub the amulet that I grabbed when I was preparing for the ball. A gift from my grandmother days before she passed, it is one of my most prized possessions.
It was the last present she ever gave me.
“Gabriel?” Grandmother is resting in the middle of her large bed, far frailer than I’ve ever seen her. The room is dark, the curtains are drawn, and the air carries the cloying scent of illness. “Come here, boy.”
I’m no longer a boy, but this doesn’t seem like the moment to point it out. Especially not to the only woman who has ever shown me love.
I walk to her bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“Hello, Grandmother,” I say quietly. It feels wrong to be loud in here. “How are you feeling?”
She blinks up at me, her white hair spread across the pillow behind her. “Adros will be welcoming me soon.”
My chest tightens, and I blink back tears. I would never cry in front of Father, but Grandmother has seen me weep before. I don’t want to right now, though. “Don’t say that, Grandmother. It’s not time for you to meet the god of death. Not yet.”
When she goes, what will become of me? Who will care for me?
Her eyes shimmer. “Death comes for us all, Gabriel. No one can escape it.” Her bony fingers lift, finding mine. “Now, I have something for you.”
I perk up. “Really?”
I rarely receive gifts—I can’t remember the last one I was given.
She smiles, and for a moment, years are wiped off her face. “In the top drawer.”
I slide it open and gasp. A silver amulet attached to a long chain is sitting on top of a book.
“Take it out, Gabriel.”
It’s heavy and strangely cool in my palm. “Grandmother, what—”
She curls my fingers around it. “You know, they say that some amulets have been blessed, and they can lessen the effect of magic.” She tilts her head, her eyes glistening and her voice lowering to a whisper. “Especially magic like your father’s.”
I shake my head, confusion swirling inside me. “I don’t understand.”
Why is she giving this to me?
“I know, child.” She grasps my hand with surprising strength. “And perhaps I’m wrong and you’ll never need it. But one day, you might.”
After that, Grandmother had asked me to read her a story while she rested her eyes.
A week later, she passed away. I was the only member of our family who attended her funeral.
I shake my head, rubbing my thumb over the amulet’s smooth surface.
I have no idea what compelled me to pick it up before the Winter’s Eve Ball, but I’m glad I did.
It’s not perfect, and it won’t hide us from the king forever—as evidenced by the ember earlier—but hopefully it will shroud us from his all-seeing eye as we flee.
I slip the chain over my head. The amulet settles against my chest, and I lead Chaos further into the shadowy cave, far enough in that if someone were to pass by, they shouldn’t notice us. Pine needles dust the ground, and there are several piles of dried leaves scattered through the space.
After a quick visual inspection to make sure the small animals that call this cave their home are elsewhere, I hook Chaos’s reins on a rock jutting out from the wall and turn to Wren.
“Do you need a hand down?”
Her Mark flares, a shining star that lights up the cavern, before she shakes her head. “No. I’ve got it.”
Her voice is rough after hours of silence, but relief rushes through me at the sound. I’m not sure what to do with that, so in the end, I take a step back and give her space to dismount.
The soft sound of paws padding on the ground draws my attention.
Mist trots into the cave with all the awareness of a feline who knows she bows to no one.
She plops down to watch the entrance, sitting a fair distance away so as not to spook Chaos.
Her tail flicks back and forth, and she lifts a paw, licking it.
Wren takes a deep breath and murmurs an encouragement to herself before getting off the horse. Only, it’s less of a dismount and more of a chaotic tumble. Her arms flail, and her foot catches in the stirrup as she careens headfirst towards the ground.
A scream rips from Wren’s lips, and Chaos rears his head, letting out a panicked whinny that shakes the pebbles.
“Fuck!” I roar, my lungs tightening.
Darting forward, I snatch Wren out of the air a moment before her head smacks into the stone. I hold her close, murmuring calm words to Chaos as my fingers find Wren’s foot, deftly unhooking her.
The moment she’s free, I drag her back. A second later, Chaos kicks. His hoof lands exactly where her head had been.
Gods above, that was fucking close.
My pulse is thundering, and I draw several deep breaths, moving us further into the cave before helping Wren to her feet. She tries to draw her cloak closed with trembling fingers, and her face is a white sheet as she looks beyond me, staring at the horse.
I scan her for injuries, and when I’m certain she’s mostly unscathed and not about to keel over, I put my hands on her shoulders. “Look at me, Wren.”
The air between us is thick, and several beats pass before she complies, her eyes hauntingly empty as they meet mine. “What?”
“You should have let me help you.” That same side of me that wants her close yearns for me to draw her against my chest and comfort her, but I don’t, because the urge is ridiculous. “That’s why I offered to help.”
Her eyes sharpen, and gods, it’s good to see life in them. “You wanted to help me,” she says, her voice hard.
“I could’ve given you a hand so you didn’t almost get yourself killed.”
Her jaw ticks, and she stares at me for a long moment before jerking her head towards the cavern wall. “Right.” Her Mark shines brighter, and her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “Because suddenly, I’m supposed to trust that you have my best interests in mind.”
Her sharp tone has my stomach knotting, and my brows furrow. “Yes, because I’m trying to help you.”
“For now.” She grits her teeth. “But what happens when you decide to hunt me again?”
“I won’t.” The words slip from my lips before I can think about them, but I know them to be true. I can’t hunt her anymore. Not now that I know what truly happens to the Given.
“It’s hard for me to believe you, Hunter.” She spits the last word, and her eyes flash.
Anger roils in my veins, and I clench my jaw so hard, my teeth grind. “I’m trying to help you, Birdie.”
Can’t she see that? Why does she think I pushed Chaos so hard all night?
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, her brilliant swirl flaring. “You haven’t earned the right.”
And I had the day she saved me in the woods? There is a disconnect here, but this doesn’t seem like the right moment to point that out. We’re both tired, and the past few days have been incredibly long.