CHAPTER FIVE #2
A pop from the fire made me glance over, just in time to see Selma lift the bottle to Aran’s mouth. Her skirt was hitched up high, his hands holding her steady by the hips, her lips on his throat. I turned away. My skin burned, and I hated that I felt anything at all.
“I hate this,” I whispered. “I just… don’t want things to change.”
His gaze drifted from the flames to me. “They already have,” he said. “Devore’s made sure of that.”
“We’re not going to change, though… are we?”
“Change is inevitable, Kera,” he said, and I could feel the weight of every word. “But it doesn’t have to be bad.”
“I was just getting used to the thought of you for leaving university, and now…”
He shook his head. “There are more important things than school now, I can’t sit in class while the world burns.”
“Do you think the world will… burn?”
“I think those vultures believe they can do whatever they want,” he replied. “And we can’t let them.”
The wind caught the fire and sent sparks spiraling into the sky like shooting stars.
Will’s hand brushed mine. Just barely. But it was enough to set something trembling inside me.
I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. My heart stuttered, betraying me, and suddenly all I could think about was how easy it would be to lace my fingers with his. To lean into him.
“You’re scared,” he said.
I nodded. “Aren’t you?”
“Terrified.”
Selma laughed again across the fire, straddling Aran’s lap, her fingers curled in his shirt.
There was no hesitation, no shame. Just heat and hunger and living in the moment like tomorrow might never come.
I watched them for a beat too long. A tiny, aching part of me wished I was more like her.
I hated how easy it was for them. That they could want something and take it.
I didn’t even know how to say the things I felt out loud, let alone act on them. I’d never been brave like Selma.
I hadn’t even dared to take Will’s hand.
My gaze swept the clearing. Idalie had fallen asleep against Miro’s shoulder, and Nora was singing off key to Eryx’s fiddle.
The rest were dancing and drinking and making out.
And for a moment, I missed Licia. I wondered who she would have been, had she been there.
Would she have been the one dancing barefoot in the grass?
Kissing someone under the trees? Or just drunk out of her mind, laughing louder than everyone else?
Then I realized someone else was missing too.
My brother.
“Where’s Einar?” I asked.
Will looked over his shoulder. “I thought he was right behind us as usual.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, rising to my feet.
I walked toward the treeline, where I thought I saw someone move.
“Einar?” I called, my voice low as I wandered deeper into the dark. Not even the sun could make forests seem more friendly. I waited to hear him call back to me, but instead I heard the sound of boots. Heavy boots.
”Well, aren’t you a pretty thing?” A voice said.
I backed up, and two figures stepped out of the dark.
Their black uniforms caught the light like oil slicks, dark and gleaming.
A triangular eye embossed on their armor.
One of them had a rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, while the other kept his low, like he was just waiting for a reason to use it.
Will caught me as I almost stumbled backwards, into the bonfire.
”Party’s over, peasants.” One of the soldiers barked, his face was scarred, his nose crooked.
“Get up,” the other one barked, his brow as strong as his jaw, and he was taller.
Eredian soldiers. Vultures.
“We’re just celebrating,” Idalie said. “We graduated this morning.”
Neither of them even looked at her. They didn’t care who we were or what we were doing.
"You've passed curfew," the taller one barked.
The other stepped closer.
“What curfew?” Eryx asked, squinting at them.
“The one I just ordered. Pack it up, or you’ll be spending the night in chains.”
I glanced around the fire—Will, Selma, Aran, Nora... and then Einar. Standing beside me like he’d always been there, jaw clenched tight, his eyes locked on the soldiers.
And of course, Aran had to be Aran.
“All of us?” he slurred, a stupid grin spreading across his face. “Wait—waiiit, wait wait,” he added, stumbling into a spin by the fire. “You two fuckers gonna arrest all of us? You can’t tell us to do shit!”
He was clearly drunk, which made him reckless. I could see the anger building in him like a storm. Boys like Aran didn’t cry, instead they picked fights with armed soldiers. If they couldn’t win, at least they’d go down swinging.
“Big bad soldiers,” he sneered. “Picking fights with drunk kids. Bet you feel real tough, huh? Bet your mamas are real proud.”
“Don’t play smart with me, boy,” one of the soldiers growled, stepping forward. “I’ll throw you off the cliff.”
“You can’t throw shit,” Aran snapped, brandishing the bottle like a sword. “Bet your king’s got you bent over so far you can’t even walk straight.”
The soldier’s rifle cracked into his ribs before he could say another word, and Aran crumpled to the ground, coughing. Will rushed forward.
“Wait—wait! He’s drunk! He’s clearly drunk out of his damn mind!”
Selma shoved past him, kneeling beside Aran.
“What the hel are you doing?” she hissed.
“I’m doing,” Aran wheezed, “what everyone else is too fucking scared to do.”
“Anyone else got something to say?” the scarred soldier barked, scanning the clearing.
No one moved, except Aran, already dragging himself upright again, blood at the corner of his mouth.
“Stand down,” the soldier warned, leveling his rifle.
“You gonna shoot me?” Aran laughed. “Gonna kill me like you killed the royals, huh? Hunt me down like a dog too?”
Will grabbed his arm, panic rising in his voice. “Stop! You’re gonna get yourself killed!”
“They were kids!” Aran shouted. “You sick fucks!”
And then my voice slipped out before I could stop it.
“Is it true?”
Einar’s hand clamped around my wrist, too late. The soldiers were already staring at me.
“I recognize you,” the taller one said. “Don’t I?”
My throat tightened. Had he seen me in town? At the bakery? Had I seen him?
I looked away.
The scarred one stepped forward. “Is what true?”
Will jumped in. “That the Vult—King Devore murdered the royal family. The children too. You’d know. You work for him.”
“I wasn’t there,” the soldier snapped.
Aran laughed again, blood trailing from his mouth.
“Spineless bastards,” he spat. “You get off beating drunk kids? Go ahead, big man—maybe your king will reward you with his sloppy—”
The soldier lunged and seized him by the throat, cutting him off.
Aran had clearly crossed a line. Or ten. His boots scraped uselessly across the dirt as the soldier hauled him backward toward the edge of the mountain. Selma sprinted after them.
"Please! Stop!" she cried, her voice cracking. ”He’s drunk! He didn’t mean it!”
The soldier didn’t even glance at her, just kept dragging Aran toward the drop. If he slipped, if the soldier shoved him one step too far, Aran would go crashing down.
I could see it.
Aran's body smashing against the rocks below. Blood painting the mountainside. I think Selma saw it too—what could’ve been.
A flash of silver caught the firelight as she lunged, the blade slicing through like lightning.
She pressed it to the soldier’s throat, her hands trembling so hard I thought she’d drop it.
“Hurt him,” she growled. “And I swear I’ll slit your fucking throat.”
The soldier looked down at her in disbelief, and I could see what he was thinking. Out of all of us, the little redhead was the one who tried to save Aran? I’d never liked Selma, but in that moment I worshipped her.
She was brave. Braver than the rest of us.
Then the soldier moved. Fast. Fingers clamped around her wrist, hard enough to make her gasp and the knife slip from her hand.
He shoved her back. Then he scanned the clearing.
And maybe, just maybe, he realized how fast this could spiral.
That we outnumbered them. That we weren’t just drunk kids anymore.
He exhaled hard through his nose, then yanked Aran back from the edge and hurled him down.
Aran tumbled, landing with a brutal thud. He rolled once, twice, then lay there coughing, hands clawing at his throat.
“Pack. It. Up,” the scarred soldier barked. “Next time, we won’t ask nicely.”
The one who’d recognized me lingered, his eyes boring into mine. Then, without another word, they turned and vanished into the trees. Aran groaned, dragging himself upright with one arm, the other cradling his ribs as he spat blood into the dirt.
“Cowards,” he rasped, swaying on his feet.
Then Aran cupped his hands around his mouth, sucking in a huge breath like he was about to scream it across the whole mountain.
“Suck my—”
Selma was on him before he could finish, slamming her hand over his mouth.
“SHUT UP!” she shrieked, her voice slicing through the night. “You wanna get us all killed, dumb fuck?!”
She smacked him hard in the chest.
“I... I’m sorry,” he slurred, blood on his lips. “I really hate those fuckers.”
“We all do,” she snapped. “We’re just smarter than you.”
Will let out a shaky breath, almost a laugh, but not quite. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Some of us know when to shut up.”
“They’re monsters, Will,” he rasped. “They didn’t even fucking deny it.”
That stuck to me. They didn’t deny it. Didn’t deny murdering innocent children.
And if they had, that meant they had no moral compass at all.
No line they wouldn’t cross. No one they wouldn’t hurt.
They just followed orders, whatever they might be.
Did whatever the highest bidder demanded.
Aran was reckless, he was bleeding, and he was stupid as hel, but he was right.
Einar finally let go of my wrist when the soldiers left. And when I could finally breathe again, I saw him. Really saw him. The tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the trees.
“Where were you?” I asked.
He blinked. “What?”
“I went looking for you,” I said. “You disappeared. No word. Nothing.”
“I was…” His gaze drifted. “Talking to a friend.”
“A friend?” My brow furrowed. “How? Did you ask them to meet you here?”
“Could you not right now?” he snapped.
I was taken aback. He never snapped at me.
“I’m sorry. I just told them we can’t keep doing this,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“Kera.” he warned.
My chest tightened. “Was it Isak?”
His eyes flicked toward the others, then back to me. “Shhh.”
“I thought you weren’t friends anymore.” I asked.
“We’re not.”
“Then why meet him? Why meet him in the middle of the night?” I pressed. ”What if they’d seen?”
He didn’t answer.
“Please don’t see him again. It’s not safe. You know it’s not.”
“That’s what I told him,” he said.
But he still wouldn’t look me in the eyes, and that’s how I knew.
He was lying.