33. Lora
Lora
My lungs burned as I propelled myself through the current, grabbing Erion’s tumbling body.
His bound form thrashed in the water, but one arm had broken free from the metal bindings. He used it to cover his head, protecting it from the rocks blurring past.
Yanking water toward us, I surged us both upward. Gasping, we burst through the surface. The river roared around us, dragging us downstream in a frothing cascade. Every muscle ached as I wielded the current, pushing us clear of protruding rocks and trunks barreling past.
I risked a glance over my shoulder, up the hillside.
A raging inferno twisted like a tornado, its flames licking the sky. My breath caught. Caldera was in the midst of that storm.
She’d sacrificed herself to save Erion. Just like Mother had done for me. And I had offered her nothing but scornful suspicion. Guilt and shame clawed through my chest.
But this wasn’t the time for regrets.
Gritting my teeth, I poured all my strength into navigating us through the traitorous water and getting Erion as far from those pirates as possible.
When the hill evened out and the current finally slowed, I heaved us onto the riverbank.
Erion crawled a few paces ahead, coughing up water. “She saved us.” His voice cracked. “She sacrificed herself to save us.”
“We need to get that metal off you.” My voice was cold, barely recognizable as my own.
He glanced down at the bindings. His backpack peeked through the gaps between the taut straps.
My own small bag still clung to my shoulders. At least we had that—a few days’ provisions to keep us alive until we reached the next settlement, and enough nuggets to cover the bare necessities once we got there.
Raising my hands, I pulled on my magic, but Erion shook his head.
“Don’t.” His features hardened. “I’ve got this.”
With a twirl of his free arm, tiny sparks ignited in the air. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he focused on the bindings. The metal glowed red, then orange—but his skin blistered beneath it. He wasn’t bolstering.
A roar tore from his lips and he cut off the heat.
“Erion!” I yanked water from the river, drenching him.
The metal hissed and steamed as it cooled.
Gasping, he leaned forward on his free hand. “Drown it all,” he groaned through gritted teeth. “I can’t bolster and heat at the same time. Caldera tried to teach me, but I never—” He swallowed hard. “I can never manage more than one thing at a time.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I forced calm into my tone. “Just focus on bolstering and let me try something.”
He sat up on his knees, a wary expression crossing his face.
With meticulous movements, I pulled a tendril from the river, guiding it in a thin layer over the metal bindings, pushing into every crack and crevice I could sense. Frost crept across the metal as I froze it—and a hairline fracture opened along one edge.
I pushed more water into the new gap and froze it again, expanding the crack. My muscles trembled from the sustained effort. Agonizingly slow, I widened the cracks until finally, the binding shattered.
Erion rolled his shoulders and lifted his arms, relief flooding his features. Angry welts marked where the metal had seared into him. I reached out to inspect the injuries, but he jerked away.
“I’ll heal it myself.”
Frowning, I opened my mouth to protest. He hadn’t even begun to learn healing. But this wasn’t about his abilities—he didn’t want me to touch him.
Did he blame me for Caldera’s death?
My jaw tightened as I pushed to my feet. Fine. He could blame me all he wanted, as long as it kept him going.
“Can you heal while walking?” My tone came out clipped. “Those pirates will be looking for us. We need to keep moving. And we need to figure out how to get the sun stone.”
He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “It’s in the Sun Kingdom’s capital. How in the turning tides do you expect us to find it without Caldera?”
My teeth clenched. “We’ll find a way.”
He grunted. “Why bother? It’s too far. We won’t make it before the eclipse.”
A grim smile pulled at my lips. “That’s the beauty of rivers. Traveling west takes time. But east means going downstream.” I started walking, gesturing for him to follow. “We just need to find a boat.”
Erion trailed behind, shoulders slumped beneath an invisible weight.
Moonlight glittered on the river’s surface as we trudged in silence. Every crack of a twig or rustle of leaves sent adrenaline spiking through me.
Candlemarks crawled by as we pressed on through the darkness, the river’s soft burbling our constant companion. As dawn painted the clouds in shades of pink and gold, exhaustion dragged at every step, and my legs threatened to give out.
“We should stop,” I murmured, scanning the trees.
Erion sank to the ground without a word, vacant eyes staring at nothing. Guilt tore through me. I shouldn’t have pushed him so hard while his grief was still unraveling.
I reached toward him. “Erion—”
“It’s my fault.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Again. Someone is dead because of me. Because I exist. Because I’m this—this mistake the world was never supposed to have.”
My throat tightened as I crouched beside him, draping an arm around his shoulders. “It’s not your fault.”
He shook his head, leaning away.
Keeping my hands on his arms, I eased closer. “It’s not your fault, Erion.”
I repeated the words over and over until his face twisted with grief and his shoulders shook. Nudging him to lie down, I curled up behind him, wrapping an arm around him. He clutched it to his chest while I kept murmuring words of comfort.
He was so fragile. So lost. So powerless. He was supposed to be our savior, yet consoling him seemed to be all I ever did.
Shame flooded me as the bitter thought squirmed through my mind.
He had every right to grieve. Stars and sea, I was grieving too. Despite my instant loathing of Caldera, her warmth and kindness had seeped into me. Her quiet strength, her patient wisdom, her reassuring nods.
The way she’d given her life to save us.
My chest squeezed, my heart shattering into pieces.
But fierce rage boiled beneath the grief.
I hated the injustice of it all. Hated the world. Hated myself. And I hated that infuriating prince who kept hunting us. Kept taunting me.
Pretty lies from a pretty mouth are still just lies.
His gravelly voice had given me flashbacks to that tide-sodden dream I’d had about him when we were heading for Brookfalls. His teasing remarks had a disturbing habit of throwing me completely off balance.
And when I finally had him on his back, ready to strike his heart, I’d hesitated. Despite everything he’d done, I couldn’t kill him.
Those amber eyes had swirled with something I couldn’t define. Conflict. Doubt. Something raw and vulnerable beneath all that arrogance.
Currents take me, why hadn’t I just killed him when I had the chance?