Chapter 10
Nyx
A little while after we stopped to bathe, we'd taken a brief break for lunch.
Fenric managed to catch a couple of rabbits, and we ate around the fire while Talon slipped away.
When he came back, there was a little more color in his cheeks than there had been before.
I just looked away and pretended not to notice.
I don’t know a ton about vampires, but I assumed it’d be rude to ask about their… blood draining process. Although, it might not be. I have no idea.
That was hours ago. Since then, we've done nothing but walk.
We use the Obsidian Spire as our compass when we can see it and trust Thorian's sense of direction when we can't. The forest we're moving through now is familiar to me in a way the others weren't. Firs and oaks, the smell of earth and pine. It smells like home, comforting and safe.
But I know better than to think that means it is.
Fenric moves slightly off the path as we walk, foraging and narrating everything he finds in a low steady stream, detailing the plants he can identify. Thorian's mood deteriorates steadily the later it gets, darkening by degrees, his jaw tighter with every hour that passes without incident.
Talon falls into step beside me.
"So," he says, his voice low enough that it doesn't carry far. "Nyx. Tell me something about yourself that isn't about the Trials."
I glance at him sideways. "Like what?"
"Anything. Where you're from. What you miss. What you were before all of this." He gestures vaguely at the forest around us.
I consider him for a moment. "I grew up in a small town."
"Good family?"
"Once." The word comes out more quietly than I intend. "We had a good life. Before the gods decided otherwise."
Something shifts in his expression, subtle but real. "I’m listening. Tell me everything."
Surprisingly, I do, in pieces. The curse that settled over my family like a slow rot.
The way things fell apart so gradually that by the time we understood what was happening, it was already too late to stop it.
My parents, gone. Lyra and I left with the wreckage of everything we'd once had, trying to hold together what remained.
When I finish, Talon is quiet for a moment.
"We had everything too," he says finally. "My family. Wealth was only part of it. There was plenty of that, but there was also position. Respect. The kind of name that opened doors before you'd even knocked."
"What happened?"
"A long story for another time." But I can tell from his voice that the story isn't one he's made peace with yet. "The point is, I understand the particular grief of losing something you were raised to believe was permanent."
I look at him properly then, and find him already looking at me.
"Do you remember," he says, his tone growing lighter, a deliberate pivot I recognize as self-protection, "the dessert they used to serve at the Midsummer gatherings? The layered one, with the cream and the candied citrus on top?"
I stop walking for half a step. "The one with the elderflower syrup?"
"That's the one." His blue eyes brighten. "I used to eat three of them before the dancing even started."
"We had something similar at the winter balls my family hosted." The memory arrives with a warmth and an ache in equal measure. "My mother would order them specially. They'd arrive in these little towers, and Lyra and I would always try to steal one from the kitchen before the guests arrived."
"Did you succeed?"
"Every time. My servant and friend, Hilda, pretended not to notice."
He laughs, genuine and unguarded, and I find myself laughing too, and for a moment the forest and the Trials and all of it recedes slightly.
"I miss those nights," I say, before I can think better of it.
"So do I," Talon says, and the lightness in his voice gives way to quiet honesty. Then he tilts his head and looks at me sideways, the ease returning. "For what it's worth, I think you would have been the most interesting person in any room you walked into."
"You're flirting with me," I say, although it should be a question. I’m not quite sure.
"Constantly," he agrees, without a trace of apology.
From somewhere ahead of us, Thorian makes a sound that isn't quite a word. Fenric, who has been half listening while he forages, glances back at us with an expression he doesn't entirely manage to make neutral.
Talon notices both of them and looks pleased about it.
"Tell me about the balls your family hosted," he says, turning back to me as though the other two aren't there at all. "I want to hear everything."
So, I start talking, and I can’t seem to stop. Talon laughs, teases, and adds to the conversation like a master wordsmith. It’s impossible not to be pulled into his charm. And when I realize how much time has passed, and how long we’ve been talking, I stop.
I barely know Talon. Why am I talking to him like I’ve known him my whole life?
Above us, the sky has flushed into soft pastels, lavender and pink, clouds strewn across it like pulled sugar. We're on an incline now, the path winding upward in long switchbacks, the air growing colder with every turn.
Thorian stops.
Fenric wanders further off the path toward a cluster of bushes. Thorian scowls up at the fading light and says, "We should have faced a trial by now."
“Perhaps the gods got too drunk and forgot,” Talon mutters, “much like my father did with birthday parties.”
“Oh!” Fenric says, emerging onto the path with a handful of nuts. “I didn’t know vampires had fathers.”
Talon rolls his eyes. “So what do you figure, immaculate conception?”
Fenric frowns, as though considering it for the first time, and Talon shakes his head, pointing his dagger at Fenric. “A father and a sire are two different things.”
“What is a sire, then?”
“A sire creates a vampire through a deliberate–”
“That’s enough of vampire 101,” Thorian says, turning and stalking back toward us. “It’s getting late. If we haven’t faced a trial by now…”
“Then?” Fenric pushes.
Letting out another sigh, Thorian says, “Then, we need to settle in for the night. Preferably somewhere that doesn’t leave us exposed. I don’t like how close Magnus got today. We let our guard down. We can’t do that again.”
Talon shrugs and Fenric munches on some berries while offering his handfuls around. I take some. They’re a bit bitter, but they’re good.
For the next hour, as the sun sinks closer and closer to the horizon, we search for a spot, until we eventually find another little cave, tucked away in some trees. I didn’t even realize it was there, but Talon discovered it. Lucky vampire senses.
“Fenric,” Thorian says, gesturing to a rock on the far side of the outcropping, “help me roll that over to conceal the entrance even further from view.”
"I'll get firewood," Talon says. "To show my team spirit."
"I'll help," I say, stepping forward. "We're losing light and we'll need enough to last the night."
"Come hunt with me," Thorian says, the words coming out less like an invitation and more like an instruction. His eyes cut briefly to Talon. "You can help flush out game."
"You know you’re a good hunter without me," I tell him.
His jaw works, because he does know it.
"Come forage with me, then," Fenric offers, already holding a small cluster of something he's pulled from a bush. "Berries, nuts, whatever we can find before dark."
"I'm fine," I say. "I'll help Talon."
Neither of them looks fine with this. Thorian turns away first, and Fenric watches me for a beat longer than necessary before heading deeper into the brush.
Talon, for his part, looks entirely delighted.
"Women do love to work alongside me," he says, falling into step next to me.
"Based on what evidence?" I ask.
"Extensive personal history."
"I'm helping you carry wood, Talon. Try to contain yourself."
He laughs.
Soon enough, Talon and I are moving through the forest, looking for firewood as the sun continues to set in the sky, deepening the purple and drifting into a navy blue.
Every time we’re here, but not in the midst of a trial, I’m struck with just how beautiful this place is.
Just how enjoyable it could be, if it weren’t for the beasts and competitors.
"So," I say, stepping over a root and scanning the ground for fallen wood. There's something easy about being alone with Talon, easier than I would have expected.
I pick up a solid piece of wood and put it in the crook of my arm. "What made you join the trials?"
Talon glances at me sideways, and for a moment the usual brightness in his face settles into quiet thoughtfulness. He crouches to collect a chunk of splintered log and adds it to his own pile before he answers.
"I can't tell you all of it," he says, without apology or deflection. He’s just being honest. "Not yet."
"That's fair," I say, and I mean it. We're all carrying things we're not ready to put down in front of strangers. "But is it the same reason as the rest of us? Running toward something, or away from it?"
He considers that. "Both, I think. It usually is." He holds back a branch so I can pass. "It's about more than the wealth or the lands. I want to be in a position where nobody can take power from me again."
Again. The word sits between us, and I don't push at it.
"Power is never more valuable than when you don’t have it.”
He looks at me then, really looks, and I think he’s surprised.
"Agency," I say. "That's what it comes down to, for all of us. Thorian, Fenric, you, me. We all just want to stop being at the mercy of something bigger than ourselves."
"How profound," he says, but his tone doesn't match the words, and when our eyes meet, his expression is entirely serious.
Thinking back to the day he saved me in the garden, I try to remember if he was like this then, too. He seems the type of man to veil his discomfort with humor, to discount his past with quick remarks, rather than linger on it.
I open my mouth to respond, but in the next moment everything happens fast.