Chapter 21
JO
My arms shake. Each strike of my blade against Messer’s sends pain shooting through my hand. The sound of metal against metal rings in my ears so loudly that I miss his protests.
“—B, easy, easy, easy. Shit!”
If he thinks I’m going to let up now that I have him where I want him, he’s sorely mistaken. The heels of his feet are clipping the line of chalk drawn on the ground. I’m three good strikes away from pushing him out of the circle.
Spin, strike. Dodge, strike. Backhanded swing, and—fuck me.
He’s expecting it, and instead of me bullying him out like I’d intended, he pivots at the perfect moment and my blade cuts through nothing but air.
I pushed too hard, too fast, and momentum causes me to lose my balance.
I stagger forward … and out of the circle.
Panting with each breath, I walk off my frustration to the edge of the arena, heart thundering in my ears as I tug on the gyve around my neck.
It’s been bothering me. Maybe I got too used to wearing the smaller necklace, because I’ve been fighting the suffocating sensation caused by the gyve all day.
I try to focus on the scenery around me instead.
Soldiers spar at different stations on the temple floor.
Built high above the city, the temple was converted into an arena, carved from the stone mined from deep within Mount Zallis.
It’s open on all sides, the arched columns affording the most gorgeous view of the sloping grasslands outside the city and toward the farmlands beyond.
The irony of leaving behind Alaha’s limited space and dual-purpose training arena, only to condition with farm animals is not lost on me.
Horses graze in the pastures, the stable hands readying their afternoon feed, moving in and out of the stables located at the edge of the city.
A guard stands at the break in the low-lying, stacked stone wall, chatting with one of the farmers venturing in with a cart filled with goods.
Messer appears, holding a waterskin out toward me. “Do you feel better?”
I accept it, but don’t reply as I gulp down what’s left of the contents. My eyes catch on Fredrich, who’s currently weight training, two bags of horse feed thrown over his shoulders as he lunges across the arena floor.
Messer waves a hand in front of my face to pull my attention back to him.
“How long are you going to punish me for, huh?” He looks down at his ruined shirt, slashes littering his torso, and another on the outside of his thigh.
When I continue to ignore him, taking another sip, he jerks the waterskin from my mouth.
“That’s enough of the silent treatment. You’re being a brat. ”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Would you prefer I bar you from Catuxa’s?”
His expression shifts from excitement about the fact I’ve spoken to him to abject horror. “You wouldn’t.”
I’d thought about it but couldn’t bring myself to do so. Not after he revealed his feelings about Aurora and Kai to me. If Catuxa’s does truly offer him some semblance of reprieve, then I’d hate to take that away from him.
I turn back to the hillside and sit on the edge of the arena, letting my feet dangle over the side. Because the arena floor cuts into the hillside, there’s a sizable drop to the ground below. Not enough to seriously injure if I were to push Messer off, but enough to stun at the very least.
He must sense my thoughts because he sits with his back to the column, facing me. His hair is blonder than it’s ever been, even compared to the years he spent in Alaha. The sun gleams off the strands, creating a halo effect around his head.
Leaning back on my hands, I tell him, “I haven’t been angry with you.”
He makes a face. “Well, of course not. That would be ridiculous, because I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Try as I might to stop it, a smile pulls at my mouth.
I’ve been lost deep in my own head these past few days. I’m so used to Messer understanding my moods better than most that I didn’t foresee him mistaking my silence for anger toward him.
Messer and I share a level of understanding that neither Kai nor Aurora have ever reached with either of us.
Along with Beau, he knows everything I know.
What true loneliness feels like. What it’s like to lay your head down at night with a sadness so deep that it threatens to swallow you whole, unsure if it’ll ever get better.
But something we talked about the other night at the tavern has been pestering me.
“I think we need to prepare for the possibility of Kai turning on us.”
His smile slowly wanes as my words sink in, until it no longer exists. “We don’t have any reason to doubt him. He’s continued to feed us solid information,” he says, defending our childhood friend. “He’s told us both that he’s no longer angry with us.”
I eye him. “Since when has Kai been a beacon of honesty?”
He bites his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “Maybe we should consider—” Stopping mid-sentence, he sits forward, eyes narrowing at something in the distance.
I follow the direction of his gaze, alarmed to see the three stallions racing up the path from the city and headed our way. Rushing to my feet, I race down the length of the arena to the steps that lead to the end of the path below.
Messer follows right beside me. “They’re from the wharf,” he says, noting their uniforms.
My heart pounds in my throat, and I unconsciously tug on the mangi stones at my throat.
Then, my heart stops altogether, because … no.
It’s impossible.
But the pulling sensation below my sternum says otherwise, the tether humming with a resounding yes.
Fredrich appears from the arena floor above, joining us as we wait for the three horsemen to come to a sharp stop nearby. The commanding officer dismounts, dipping into a bow and I cut the formalities short with a sharp question that I’m positive I already know the answer to.
“What is it?”
The officer stands abruptly. “We stopped four individuals attempting to cross the bay. Two males and two females. One is with child. They’re currently being detained—”
I don’t let him finish before I step around him, seizing the reins of his horse. “Have word sent to Beau,” I tell Fredrich. “Inform her that her brother has arrived.” Just in case she wants to see him.
He nods, already jogging toward the entrance to the city.
Messer grabs the pommel of my horse and pulls himself up behind me.
I tug the reins, steering the horse around and squeezing my legs to urge it forward.
The wind whips at our face as we traverse the curving path of the hillside, the two other soldiers following right behind us.
It’s a steady decline toward the water’s rocky edge and I slow from a canter to a trot when we’re within sight of the wharf.
The afternoon sun reflects brightly off the water, making it impossible to distinguish individual figures in the mass of people.
Half the city’s current rotation of soldiers must be present.
I urge my heart to calm as I direct the stallion onto the stone dock. The tether gives a strong jerk and I struggle to catch my breath. My magic is all but writhing in anticipation as I get closer. His presence lures me in like the heat from a roaring fire on a frigid winter night.
Messer, still pressed close behind me, places a hand on my shoulder and asks, “You good, B?”
Nodding, I ignore the chill in my bones, and pull the stallion to a stop, handing the reins to a waiting soldier. Messer dismounts first, the picture of ease, but I know him well enough to notice the tension lining his shoulders.
I look him squarely in the eye, my focus only on him. “Don’t antagonize him.”
He places a hand to his chest, affecting a wounded expression. “You would think so low of me?”
I just give him a deadpan look, words not needed.
Turning toward the waiting soldiers, I make myself take a step forward.
The men separate, gazes affixed to me as I move through, their bowing forms creating a rippling wave in the line as I pass by.
It’s not the time to try and dissuade them from performing this formality, and if I stop to speak to them, I don’t think I’ll get going again because I’m not sure I can feel my legs.
Acker has come to Maile.
So, I put one foot in front of the other, taking it one step at a time.
One breath at a time.
Our last interaction flashes through my mind.
When he kissed me with the heat of a thousand suns, only to strike me across the face immediately after.
He threatened to kill us both if I didn’t leave, and, even after all this time, the ache of the memory hasn’t abated. The sting of my flesh still feels real.
The soldiers continue to move out of the way, bowing in succession as I move farther and farther down the wharf.
Their heads and shoulders fall from view out of the corner of my vision, but I keep my gaze straight ahead, locked on Drake who stands at the far end of the congregation, bow and wooden arrow in hand.
The four of them stand in a line, their backs to me.
Olivia is on the far right, and she looks at me over her shoulder, lips pulled into a small, soft smile as we make eye contact.
Then there’s Wells immediately next to her, as to be expected.
It’s the person next to him, however, that makes my heart stop.
Irina shifts in place but doesn’t trouble herself with looking back at my arrival at all.
And its her presence that makes me realize …
He didn’t come for me.
A tidal wave of dejection washes over me, and I struggle to continue forcing one foot in front of the other.
Each breath feels like a waste of effort, as though the oxygen never reaches my lungs.
My vision blurs and I bite my tongue hard enough to draw blood to force back the burning in the back of my throat, a knot wanting to form there.
Whatever remnants of hope I held for us withers away and dies in that very moment. I never voiced them. Barely let my mind wander to the deeply hidden desire that Acker would one day realize—what exactly? That he loved me more than his pride? His title? The woman at his side?
I’ve spent years guilt-ridden and ashamed of my decisions, hating myself for breaking his heart, and it’s obvious he is nothing of the sort.
I refuse to let on how much it hurts.
Last in line, but certainly not least, Acker stands tall, with his shoulders back and head tilted as he listens for the sound of my approach. There’s a glint from his gold nose ring as he pivots, turning his body just enough to lay eyes on me.
Dark eyes that are exactly as I remember them.
I thought my imagination might have colored my impression of them, enhanced my memories beyond reality, but no. They’re as potent as they’ve always been. Enticing. Powerful. Intoxicating. As ensnaring as ever.
Maybe even more so.
I let my gaze slide smoothly away as I pass, moving around him to stand with Drake, and I think …
I think I’m in as much trouble as I was when he arrived in Alaha all those years ago.