52. Mare #2
Reese swallowed, jaw tensing. “Some of the Lecovair might try to hurt you. I can’t promise I won’t retaliate.”
“Who would stop you? Aren’t you the most important man in the world?”
“The Lecovair exist for a reason—all Solhearts want power, so they keep each other from gaining too much.”
“Ah. We’d be in deep shit then. Never mind.”
He smiled, but I saw a vein on his neck pulse. “One of them in particular hates me. You’ll be the target of his ire. Promise me you’ll stay near me.”
“I’m just your squire. Why would I be the target?”
“You know why,” Reese breathed.
A lump formed in my throat, and I became intimately aware of how we stood, alone, out here in the dark, of my hand pressing against the hard planes of his muscles. I leaned forward and stopped.
What was I doing? My limbs had moved without consulting my mind first.
A mind that screamed, ‘Get the hell away from him.’
My body did not obey.
Reese tilted his head toward me. Closing my eyes, I felt his hair brush my face, felt him cup my cheek. I breathed in his scent: warm and clean, like linens, wood, and a touch of rose.
Then he snapped his head away and released me.
Rubbing my face, I retrieved Cierthine and sheathed it. My heart thundered wildly.
This was forbidden—even without the layers of deception I hid beneath.
Marriage and courtship between races were outlawed.
Mothers who birthed foul-blooded babies were shunned. Tossed from their homes, stricken from family trees, and sometimes, killed.
Taking a deep breath, I pretended as though nothing had passed between us. “Would you go make sure Liam hasn’t given Bláth cause to murder him? I need to catch my breath.”
Reese looked hurt—it flickered across his face before he played along. “You . . . you're probably right. Liam seems to delight in antagonizing her." He hesitated, but if he meant to say something more, he decided against it. "Don’t be long, Sunshine.”
Sheathing his blade, he marched away.
Turning my back to the camp, I stared out across the mountains. This would be my life, for the foreseeable future.
Had I made the right choice?
Closing my eyes, I let the silence and cool spring breeze wash away my sweat and nerves.
A gentle hum, so soft I could barely hear it, rumbled beneath my feet. I whirled around as a shadow bumped into my arm.
Warping shadows fell away from the scáde's body—shadows that had kept it concealed against the night. It bumped its head against my arm again and laid its double wings flat against its side.
Stunned, I examined its antlers and the black scales lining its body. Something in my soul knew—this was the scáde—the one I’d spared, the one that had carried me to the city within the dark.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, looking around in fear.
Fire approached, dancing in the palm of Brighid’s hand. Even with her light source, she didn’t seem to notice the dragon beside me until she was nearly upon it.
“Cinders,” she cursed, stepping back. She looked over her shoulder, but Reese had returned to the camp. “Well. Bláth did say this one bonded to you, didn’t she?”
Grabbing the dragon’s head, I scolded it. “You are going to get me—and yourself—killed.”
“Yes, I think she’s smart enough to know that,” Brighid said. “According to Quinn, bonded scádes stick to their owner’s side until one of them dies.”
“Great, just what I need.” I sighed, releasing the scáde’s face.
Despite myself, I smiled. Warmth flooded my veins.
“They understand our language.” Brighid leaned in. “So perhaps watch your tongue.”
The scáde tilted its head, as though waiting for me to apologize.
“I’m not taking it back.” I folded my arms. “You are going to get us killed.”
The scáde’s throat rumbled.
“Hm.” Brighid smiled at the creature, then turned to me. “I wanted to have a word with you.”
“So did I.” I leaned against the scáde and stroked its neck. “I feel woefully unprepared for a Solheart wedding. Are there customs I should know beforehand?”
“Cinders, no.” Brighid leaned forward, studying my dragon. “It will be a gaudy affair, but Solheart weddings are downright boring compared to Lavaire traditions. A ball before the ceremony, a ridiculous ritual involving knots.” She flicked her hand. “That’s about it.”
“I’ve heard Lavaire weddings are . . . ” I pursed my lips, searching for the right words.
“Debauched? We celebrate for six days straight. Tusiri ceremonies are thrown to marry you to your sisters before your husband. And everyone performs dances for one another while drunk out of their mind.”
Brighid looked happy, speaking of her people’s customs. She stroked the scáde’s neck, tracing the grooves of its scales with her fingers. I ducked under the dragon’s neck to stand at her side. “Vaf showed me who Sorley is. I can’t let you—”
“Stop.” Brighid closed her eyes. “You can. And you will. I will not allow you to throw everything away. Not for me.”
Everything. Not just my life, or Reese’s. She meant everyone I stood to save, should my mother succeed.
“I know,” Brighid breathed out. “That I am in no position to speak of romance, but please be careful. For both your sakes. For mine. I had two choices: run away and be free, or sacrifice my future to give you this chance. I’m being uncharacteristically selfless, so I’d appreciate your reverence.”
A smile tried to grow on my lips; a laugh strained to emerge. All I felt were unrelenting tides of horror.
Brighid laid a hand on my arm. “Promise me you will not entertain anything further from that fae lord. I do not know what he wants, and that . . . that frightens me.”
The fae lord wielded power I did not understand, and he knew my heart like it was his own. When he glared down at me, face half shielded by a mask, the other set with a brilliant golden eye . . .
Warmth cascaded off him, like a Solheart’s.
And that frightened me, most of all.