Chapter 2
Nyx
It's dark when I wake, but it takes me a minute to realize that it’s not because it's still night. Our little cave of tree roots is shielded enough from the outside that only splinters of light break through, shining in small, brilliant shards on the dirt. It’s almost… pretty.
Almost.
A small fire crackles near the entrance a few feet from the water’s edge. Smoke wafts out through the gaps in the roots. I don't remember any of us making a fire. In fact, I don’t remember falling asleep at all.
The last thing I remember clearly is kneeling beside Fenric in the shallows of the river, watching his face for any sign that the fever was breaking.
It had been slow. Agonizingly slow. His temperature had dropped by degrees, each small improvement followed by a stretch of stillness that made my chest seize until the next one came.
I had talked to him softly, not because I thought he could hear me but because the silence was worse.
At some point, Thorian had joined me in the water and quietly told me that Fenric was through the worst of it. That I should sleep.
I hadn't wanted to. But I’d gone into the little cave-like space and curled up. I guess my body made the decision for me after that.
But where’s Fenric? And is he okay?
I sit up slowly, muscles protesting every movement.
My shoulders ache. My hands are stiff, the knuckles tender where I gripped Fenric through the worst of the night.
My back has opinions about the ground it spent the night on, and none of them are kind.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and take a slow breath.
The berserker. I have to find him.
Sensing motion out of the corner of my eye, I turn.
Fenric is sitting up against the wall of the cave, canteen in hand, and the relief that moves through me is so intense it actually stops me mid-breath.
He's alive. He's sitting up. The awful, hectic flush of the fever is gone, replaced by a healthier complexion that's recognizably him.
His eyes find mine across the small space and he gives me a tired, lopsided smile.
I want to go to him. To drop down beside him and confirm with my hands what my eyes are telling me, that he's here and whole and going to be alright. But I don’t. I stay where I am, because I don't know how he'd respond if I did such a thing. We’re not close enough yet for me to know him that well.
He's wearing only pants, his chest bare in the dim light. I try not to look. I fail immediately. He's built with lean muscle and clean lines, nothing wasted, nothing soft. His abdomen is a study in temptation, and I drag my gaze firmly back to his face.
He's still smiling. Like he knows exactly what just happened.
My face goes warm. "You look better," I say, clearing my throat and running a hand over my braid. It's come half loose from days of fighting and sleeping on the ground.
Fenric nods. “I’m feeling better too. Thanks to both of you.”
My stomach growls, and we both hear it.
His smile widens. "Thorian caught some rabbits last night. We saved you some."
I glance at the fire, my stomach roaring to life at the mention of meat. Last night I was so consumed with Fenric's fever that I'd barely registered my own hunger. Now it’s gnawing at me.
Fenric nods toward the far side of the fire. "It’s on the rock there."
I find it exactly where he said, a portion of rabbit set on a flat stone close enough to the fire to still be warm. I eat without ceremony, licking the grease from my fingers, and I don't care even slightly how that looks.
Thorian ducks into the cave as I'm finishing, a makeshift spear in hand, freshly carved from the looks of it, the point stripped clean and sharp.
He glances at the empty rock, then at me, and the hint of a smile crosses his face before he settles himself near the entrance and begins checking the weapon over with quiet focus.
Even though I’ve finished the rabbit, my stomach is still not entirely satisfied. A portion of rabbit after everything we've been through is barely enough to register. I can tell from the way Fenric keeps glancing between me and Thorian that he's thinking the same thing.
He pushes to his feet. "I'll forage. Get us something more."
"You just recovered," I say. "Sit down."
"I'm fine," he says, sounding confident, and not at all like a guy who almost died recently. "Besides, I know these plants. Berries, mushrooms, wild onions. I won't be long." He's already ducking out past Thorian into the morning light, and then he's gone.
Thorian hunkers down across from me, and I'm suddenly aware of the fact that he and I are alone. He’s a big man. A man so handsome that I’m sure he has a pack of ladies back home waiting for his return. I try to focus on something else. Something that a logical woman would focus on.
"He's doing better than I expected," I say, more to fill the quiet than anything else.
Thorian nods. "His color came back fast. Whatever that magic did to him, his body is burning through it." He pauses, eyes moving briefly to the entrance of the cave. "Berserkers recover quickly. It's part of what makes them what they are."
"And the others?" I ask. "Any sign of them?"
"Nothing." He says it with flat certainty. "The swamp took a lot out of everyone. We bought ourselves time."
I let out a slow breath. Time. I'll take it.
The quiet settles between us, not uncomfortable, just present.
With the immediate emergency behind us and the next threat not yet visible on the horizon, it’s like we actually have permission to breathe.
My mind wanders, unhelpfully, to Fenric kissing me after we crossed the swamp.
His fingers sliding into my hair, his mouth warm and careful, like he was trying not to startle me.
And then back to Thorian, after, and the press of his mouth.
How it was entirely different. More certain. More… possessive.
My body shivers faintly at the memory of it.
Having multiple partners isn't unusual. It's arguably more common than not. In the cities, in the higher families, arrangements of all kinds are ordinary. Expected, even.
What is unusual is what my parents had.
My mother and father had been singular in their devotion to each other, and I had grown up thinking that was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed.
The way he looked at her across a crowded room.
The way she always seemed to know where he was without looking.
It was a love so complete and specific it left no room for anyone else, not because they closed themselves off to the world, but because they were simply enough for each other.
I’ve always wanted that. Exactly that.
But now I think about Fenric reaching up to kiss me after we crossed the swamp, his fingers sliding into my hair, his mouth warm and tentative and sweet.
And then Thorian, the press of his lips entirely different, more certain, more like kissing me was something he'd been waiting forever to do.
I don't understand why that thought affects me so deeply.
I barely know either of them, yet somehow I can still feel the warmth of their mouths, still remember the way each kiss made me feel in entirely different ways.
And I don't know what to do with the fact that both of those things felt true.
Felt right. Felt like something I would reach for again without hesitating.
I wonder what Lyra would say about this.
My sister's never been in love, not really, but she's always had a way of seeing clearly through the things that make other people's vision go blurry.
She's younger than me and has spent most of her life ill, and yet somehow that's made her wiser.
She notices things. She asks the right questions.
She's got a gift for sitting with you in the middle of difficult things and making them feel less impossible.
She'd probably laugh first. Then she'd tilt her head and ask me something that cut straight to the center of it, some quiet, precise question I hadn't thought to ask myself, and by the time she was done I'd know exactly what I felt and what I wanted to do about it.
I miss her so much it hurts.
I’d give almost anything to sit across from her right now. To watch her consider what I'd say. To find out whether she would laugh or go quiet or reach across and take my hand.
A pang of grief moves through me, quiet and familiar, as it always does when I catch myself reaching for her.
"Nyx."
I look up. Thorian is watching me carefully. "Where did you go?
"Nowhere," I say. "Just thinking."
He accepts that with a nod, and we sit in a companionable quiet until movement at the cave entrance makes us both look up.
Fenric reappears, slightly out of breath, and drops to his knees and spreads his findings between us. Wild mushrooms and onions, crab apples, more berries, a handful of walnuts. Not a feast. But more than nothing.
"Couldn't find anything that runs," he says, "but this should help." He reaches for a mushroom, then stops and holds up a hand before I can do the same. "Let me cook them first. Some of these need heat before they're safe."
I pull my hand back, and Fenric sets to work, and I watch him, and somewhere across the small fire Thorian watches me watching him, and none of us say anything at all.
“Take some berries,” he says, and I do, grabbing a handful and popping them into my mouth as he disappears.
He returns with several sticks and a large stone.
He fashions a contraption over the fire and takes the mushrooms and onions, placing them on the stone.
Soon, the cave fills with the scent of them.
Thorian and I snack on the apples, crack open the walnuts, and eat the berries while Fenric pushes the cooking mushrooms and onions around on the stone, browning them on all sides.
“Where did you find all this?” Thorian asks, when Fenric spears the mushrooms and onions on a stick and hands it to me to eat.
Thorian catches my wrist, stilling me and preventing me from taking the first bite, his eyes focused on the mushrooms before giving me a look that says, wait until I try it first.
I ignore him. I trust Fenric, so I pop one of the mushrooms into my mouth. The men pause, watching me chew. Fenric wears a look of pride, and Thorian wears one of trepidation. Having both their gazes on my lips makes me flush, and I fight not to make a noise of pleasure at the taste of the food.
“This is the second time you’ve eaten something without concern,” Thorian mutters, as I swallow and smile at them.
“It’s good,” I say to Fenric, who nods and hands the second stick to Thorian, who takes it with slightly less trepidation. “I ate the mushrooms because I trust Fenric. He knows what he’s talking about, clearly.”
Thorian mutters under his breath, while Fenric tries not to beam at the compliment. I want to gather them both up in my arms. Perhaps it’s ridiculous to find the men, both of whom could snap me like a toothpick, adorable, but I do.
As he wraps the remaining food in a cloth and tucks it into the knapsack, Fenric says, “My father and I used to do this frequently. It was rare that we could hunt, but my father just had an eye for this sort of thing. And with how much food it took to feed a family of berserkers, we needed it.” Fenric chuckles, smiling sadly.
“My little brother and sister would sit at the door like puppies, waiting for us to get home each night. It took a long time until my eye got as good as my father’s. I miss those walks with him.”
My heart squeezes. Our situations might be different, but Fenric and I are experiencing much the same thing. Missing our families, and risking everything to get them back.
“What if your family is dead already?” Thorian asks in a tone so flat it’s nearly deadpan. He finishes off an onion in a single bite and looks up, clearly not aware of how insensitive his question has come off.
“Thorian,” I hiss, frowning. “That’s cruel.”
“I’m not saying this to be unkind,” Thorian drops the stick into the fire and crosses his arms, leveling a gaze at Fenric, “but practical. Surely you know how they treat the slaves. They don’t last long, with what they have to go through…
the harsh physical labor, the punishments, the unclean living conditions, the lack of food… it’s just a lot to endure.”
“Yes,” Fenric says, his voice turning throaty, his gaze dropping to the fire.
“I’m aware. Maybe it’s foolish to go through with the trials, even knowing that they might be dead, but I have to.
I don’t even want to imagine a life without them.
They motivate me to be a good man. To be a good person.
We’ve gone through everything together. My siblings, my parents, they’re my guiding light.
Without that motivation in my life, I don’t know who I would be. ”
“I understand.” Thorian nods, staring off into the distance for a moment, his dark eyes unfocusing for a moment, then fixing on something in the distance I can’t see. “Alone… it’s a dark place to be.”
I stare at him, trying to read that expressionless, stoic face for some sign. For an indication of what that might mean. Does he have any other family besides his dad? Does he know what it’s like to operate without that guiding light, that motivation?
“Is that why you’re so motivated to win this?” I ask, thinking of Thorian’s preference for godhood. Perhaps, by going from demi-god to full deity, he could help those he cares about most. “For your family?”
But instead of answering, Thorian stands, kicking dirt into the almost-gone fire. He either doesn't hear my question, or pretends he doesn't.
"We should get moving," he says, his eyes flicking down to the stick still in my hand, the makeshift kabob. "You going to eat that?"
Fenric laughs when I offer the food to Thorian, then takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. His hand is still warm, but nowhere near as bad as it was yesterday.
We're halfway through gathering our things when a scream cuts through the distant forest. It’s high and sharp, then gone. The three of us go still at the same time.
There’s a moment of silence.
Then Fenric lets out a slow breath. "Well," he says.
"Yes," Thorian agrees.
That's all either of them says. I look between them, then back toward the trees, then pick up my pack. I guess the Trials are waiting for us. Just outside this cave. So, we better be ready.
Together, we leave the little shelter. I wish we could stay longer, talk more, forget the real world, but Thorian's right. We shouldn't wait too long to continue the trials, or the gods will be sure to make us.
Besides, we have to make progress toward the Obsidian Spire, especially if we want to be the first team to reach the top and win. For Fenric's family. For mine. And for whatever motivates Thorian so much.