Chapter 16
Kiera
I didn’t remember how I’d gotten here.
One minute I’d been handing out bottles of medicine and mead and bandaging wounds, the next I was here—curled up next to a discarded basket of clothes.
Staring at Arduen’s Mountain. The beautiful white snow.
The many pinpricks of light that someone told me were the fireflowers glowing before they died tomorrow night.
It all looked so pure and untouched. So unlike the charred, broken village behind me.
I’d busied myself the moment Aiden had walked away. The relief I’d felt to see him alive and standing had nearly shattered me in a way I was too exhausted to understand. We stood on a narrow precipice, him and me. One small push and we would lose each other forever.
I’d watched him comfort Maz and his sisters from afar. My heart ached for them, but I felt like an intruder. Davka had spoken one word to me in the few weeks we’d known each other, and she’d protected me in a battle I wouldn’t have survived without better warriors like herself.
But Maz had sought me out, anyway. He came up behind me while I was sponging blood from an old woman’s forehead and wrapped his huge, sweaty arms around me.
“Thank you, lovely,” he’d murmured. “I know you did everything you could for her. And Yarina as well. Like you did for me.”
I’d turned and buried my face in his chest and finally released the sob I’d been holding back.
“I wish it’d been enough,” I whispered raggedly.
“If you gave it your all, then you gave enough.” He hugged me tighter as a few of his tears dripped into my gnarled hair.
After a few moments, we’d parted ways.
Soon after, little Camilla and her cousin Brodney found me. Camilla had raced forward and wrapped her skinny arms around my legs. My small smile cracked the dried blood on my cheek, but it was worth it.
Brodney informed me they’d tied Nikella’s horse with the others so it wouldn’t wander off. I thanked him and directed the pair to where they could find a bowl of soup and a blanket.
And now I was here, an ant before the mountain. Alone under the cold stars. Nothing but pain for company.
Except the footsteps headed toward me. I didn’t look over as Nikella settled down next to me.
“How’d you find me?” I asked hoarsely. Gods, when was the last time I had a sip of water?
“Aiden.” Of course. He always knew, didn’t he.
Nikella set a few things on the grass. “He said you haven’t taken care of your wounds.”
“Others had worse.”
“They’re taken care of. Now it’s your turn.”
I didn’t bother answering. Just kept staring at the strangely luminous mountain.
Nikella washed my cheek and spread a thick paste on the cut. It made my eyes sting, but I didn’t flinch.
“Any broken bones?” she asked crisply.
“Not that I know of.”
“Aiden said you had a bad wound across your shoulders. May I see?”
His concern for me reached into that hidden, bleeding part of my heart.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Nikella carefully helped me out of my dirty shirt, the cloth sticking painfully to my shoulders.
The cold breeze swept over my exposed skin and pierced the open wound on my back.
I sucked in a breath the same moment Nikella did.
She slowly washed the crusted blood from my shoulders, but then hesitated.
“Is it that bad?” I grunted, my hands clenched around my knees.
“It’s hard to tell in the moonlight,” she murmured. Her cool fingers traced my skin. Not my wound, but the scars around it. “My brother did this to you.”
I stiffened. I would’ve jerked away if I hadn’t been so gods-damned tired.
“No,” I said harshly. “It wasn’t Renwell.”
“I meant my other brother. Korvin.”
My stomach plummeted as my thoughts shuddered to a halt—uncomprehending of the shadowy obstacle in their path.
Brother. Korvin is her brother. Which means, he and Renwell are also brothers.
I squeezed my eyes shut, realizations falling into place and more questions rising.
“He never told you,” Nikella surmised.
“No, he never told me about you or Korvin.” A bitter laugh broke past my teeth. “What Renwell didn’t tell me could fill the Abyss.”
Nikella hummed in agreement. I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her eyes on my shoulders.
Dread stilled my heart like a bird who’d caught sight of a hunter. “How did you know Korvin gave me these scars?”
Nikella didn’t answer me. Instead, she spread paste on my wound. The cold stripe on my skin puckered. She gently eased my shirt back over my head.
As I gingerly pushed my arms back into the sleeves, she slid forward to sit next to me. Her shadowed gaze rested on the glittering mountain.
“The whip he used on you,” she said quietly, “he invented for me.”
Holy Four. I ground my teeth together to keep any sound from escaping.
She unfastened her cloak and pulled up the back of her shirt, turning to reveal a wide swath of her muscled back.
I gaped, thankful she couldn’t see me.
The firelight glimmered over a patchwork of scars. They told a story of hatred, of monstrosity. Her skin was gouged and stripped, probably from the sunstone bits Korvin had threaded into his special whip.
Was this how my back looked? I’d never seen it in a mirror. Had Aiden noticed the similarities in our scars? Or had he never seen his mentor’s?
Nikella’s looked . . . old. Layered. Carved into more tender skin that hardened over time.
“How could a brother do that to his sister?” I murmured, thinking of how Everett hadn’t even wanted to pick up a wooden sword to duel with me.
She dropped her shirt and faced me again. “Our shared blood never stopped him from spilling mine. He’s always been that way. I was simply the easiest target.”
I winced, then studied her more carefully, seeing a new facet to this enigmatic woman. She was every inch the fierce warrior. Beautiful under her scars. But that strength had been born from a desperate need to survive.
No wonder she spoke about defending people from the monsters that roamed the world. She’d been raised with them.
My gaze halted on the deep scar that bisected her face.
Nikella pursed her lips. “Korvin gave it to me the night before I escaped. With what was perhaps the first sunstone blade ever created.” She noticed my wide eyes and sighed.
“We were born and raised in the village of Calimber. Our father worked in the sunstone mine back when it was a voluntary job. But that didn’t make it less of a miserable one.
Just gave him the money to get drunk every night. ”
I curled in tighter on myself, resting my uninjured cheek on my knees. Every word out of her mouth was like a drop of light that illuminated the mystery surrounding her and her brothers.
I wanted to know everything. But something told me not to push.
Nikella looked back at Arduen’s Mountain, her voice soft with memory.
“Our mother died when I was little. I never knew her. Some said she was kind and quiet. Others—mainly my father—said she was arrogant and ungrateful, too good for our little town. But, of course, if a woman aims for more or better, it’s presumptuous. When a man does, it’s ambition.”
Which is probably why Father was so furious when he found out what Mother was planning. His vanity demanded her death.
My brow furrowed. That was the first time my thoughts hadn’t blamed Aiden. I shoved that revelation aside as Nikella continued speaking.
“Our father beat us. All of us. Drunk or sober. Good day or bad. It didn’t matter. My brothers inherited his spite in different ways. Perhaps I did, too,” she added thoughtfully. “But in those days, I only ever dreamed of running.”
“How did you escape?” I asked.
“An old Teacher came to Calimber when I was about fourteen. Father was dead, and Renwell had left for Aquinon. It was just me and Korvin. But I was desperate for an education, like the other children received. I snuck out to meet the Teacher—a kind man named Hadrian. He taught me to read and write, to understand history and religion, even a few defensive maneuvers. He was the first person to show me true kindness.”
Nikella ceased talking as a Dag warrior rode past. He startled at seeing the two of us sitting on the ground, but he gave Nikella a deep nod, which she returned. He continued riding to the river.
Something deep inside me craved that same respect. But I didn’t begrudge her for it. She’d earned it. Despite shooting me in the neck with a dart. But she’d done it to save someone she loved, which I understood completely.
“Hadrian told me I could become a Teacher,” she continued. “One of my dearest dreams. But I knew Korvin would never allow it.”
My stomach curdled, guessing what would happen next.
Nikella’s voice turned hollow. “Korvin found us training one night. I’d never seen him so enraged. He tied me up and . . . and tore Hadrian to shreds in front of me. No matter how much I begged, he wouldn’t stop. He said it was my fault.”
Nikella swallowed hard and turned her face away.
My own throat tightened. I’d never heard her stumble over words. What she was describing was truly awful, but her evident pain surprised me. That even a warrior like her would still feel pain over a death that had happened decades ago.
But love was a trickster like that. It couldn’t be caged by time or distance. Or even death. Not when it was true.
Mother’s face filled my mind. I’ll never forget you either, Mother.
Nikella cleared her throat. “After Hadrian was dead, Korvin took his knife and did this”—she gestured to her face—“to me. He wanted to make sure I’d be too ashamed to ever leave. Too afraid.”
She turned abruptly to face me, her eyes burning. “Have you ever been the weakest one in the room, Kiera?”
Dozens of memories played behind my eyes. Moments with Father, Renwell, Korvin, Wolves, guards, men from taverns . . . And tonight. In battle.
“Yes,” I whispered, hating the truth.