Chapter 31
The last days had been almost peaceful, although the longer we rode, the more I started to worry about Dion.
He was behaving strangely, all tense and withdrawn, and I was sure I didn’t see him smile once.
It was as if the man I’d befriended, the one who’d almost kissed me, had vanished.
He was moody and brooding—well, that wasn’t new—and when we trained, both with weapons and magic, he kept his distance.
I was clueless as to why, and he was flat-out refusing to talk to me at all.
Even though we still rode together and my back was constantly pressed against his chest, it felt as if we were worlds apart.
And everything had begun to change after our conversation with Larithia.
I was so lost in thought that I almost missed Fig speaking. “It’s Samhain in two nights. I’ve decided that we can take the risk and join one of the many celebrations. We’ll reach the village of Rastialla tomorrow and will stay there for the duration of the festivities.”
I expected protest because of the rather urgent nature of our travels and because my head was still adorned with a hefty bounty, but everyone just nodded appreciatively.
Samhain was one of the four big annual celebrations and marked the end of the harvest season. Usually, festivities included feasting and dancing around bonfires, children dressing up in costumes, and loved ones exchanging gifts.
“You never struck me as someone who liked festivities, Fig.”
“Sometimes celebrations are the only break we get. Also, traditions ground us and appease the gods. It’s wise to uphold customs.”
I nodded, surprised at the graveness infused in his voice. Yes, Fig was the most serious of the men, but this intensity was much, even for him. Even after months of traveling together, my company still managed to surprise me.
Dion remained silent as he’d been so often in the last few days. If I didn’t feel his body caging in mine, I could have forgotten about his presence at all.
“Do you also enjoy celebrating the seasonal festivals, Dion?”
The only reaction I got was a vaguely affirmative huff.
I clenched my teeth. At some point over the past few days, his silent treatment and the distance he put between us had started to hurt.
If only he’d speak to me about what was bothering him.
Instead, all he’d accomplished at some point earlier today was to turn my pain into burning anger.
“Wonderful talk. Maybe we should pick up a horse for me in Rastialla, as you’re clearly displeased by my company.” Not that anyone had bothered to teach me how to ride, but I figured after all these weeks on horseback, I’d somehow cope.
“Not the worst idea.”
Dion’s sharp response punched the breath right out of my lungs, and unfortunately, I had to hold back tears of embarrassment.
Hurt and anger waged a war inside of me, and I wanted to rage against the man I called my friend.
What a friend, indeed. I got mad at myself that I’d even thought about considering the Rite of Binding.
Because right after we’d left Larithia, I had done so.
But if Dion’s behavior of late had taught me one thing, it was how right I was to fight to keep my independence.
“What’s your problem?” The words flew out of my mouth before I could hold them back. “For days, you either pretend I’m not there or that I’m the greatest inconvenience to you. But you know what? It’s time for you to stop acting like the world’s biggest ass and instead talk to me, Dion.”
“Have you ever considered that you are the greatest inconvenience to me, Jama?” Dion’s voice sounded bored and distant, and each word cut through me like a knife, even though I recognized his behavior as one of his usual masks—but this one he hadn’t been putting on with me for ages.
“Fuck you, Dion,” I growled, and he just shrugged as my heart was breaking into tiny pieces, splintering in a way I didn’t understand. The rest of the day, I didn’t try to talk to him once.
That night was the first one since I’d started traveling with the men that I chose not to sleep next to Dion.
We’d spent the last nights at opposite ends of the camp, but it had always been him making a performance of staying away from my resting place as far as he possibly could.
Today, I didn’t give him the chance to put on a spectacle.
Instead, I didn’t even pay him any attention as I unrolled my bedroll away from everyone.
The fire was quite far away, but I was absolutely willing to freeze for a night if it meant proving a point.
But the reaction I’d secretly hoped for never came, and more frustration piled on top of everything else.
I stayed awake for a while, and only when I was sure everyone else had fallen asleep—except for Thain on guard duty somewhere—I allowed myself to break down.
I felt as if I’d lost something precious, something of utmost importance, without even knowing why.
My chest ached like never before, and tremors shook my whole body as a thousand knives slashed through my intestines.
Not understanding my visceral reaction at all, I just let it all out.
My tears didn’t dry until I fell asleep.
But even sleep wouldn’t grant me a break tonight. Instead, I slipped into another nightmare.
I was in a town I’d never seen before. The air was icy and unpleasant, even for me, who preferred the cold over the heat any day. No matter where I looked, I couldn’t spot a single familiar face.
The moment I started to walk, everyone’s eyes shot toward me, all their faces full of anger and disgust, and so hateful I stumbled and collapsed to the ground. Too exhausted to push myself to my feet, I stayed on my hands and knees as the crowd stared down at me.
At last, a young boy opened his mouth from a few feet away. “Murderer.”
One by one, everyone joined the boy, creating a horrifying, echoing chorus that froze me in place.
Suddenly, two unknown men gripped me by my elbows and dragged me toward the center of the town square.
My knees scraped against the uneven pathway, and when the men finally allowed me to sag onto the ground again—without letting me go completely—my skin was bloody and raw.
It took me so much effort just to lift my head, and I half expected to see another gallows, but I was at least spared that.
Instead, there was a pole surrounded by wood and kindling—a pyre.
Not that this was better or any consolation.
I struggled against the hold of the men, but my body was just too weak.
My eyes darted around, searching the square for something—anything in desperation.
My heart skipped more than a single beat when I spotted Dion.
He stood on the sidelines, almost hidden by the townsfolk, and he stared at me in anguish.
His gaze felt so penetrating that it sliced right through me.
The small glimmer of hope that had sparked upon seeing him vanished as soon as it had appeared because he didn’t make a move or try to reach me.
He just stood there, still as a statue, observing me with agony in his expression as the two men slammed me against the wooden stake and restrained me to the structure while everyone else continued chanting, “Murderer. Murderer.”
I wanted to scream, but I’d been robbed of all autonomy over my body.
The rough rope they’d used to restrain me burrowed deep into my skin, and it restricted my movements so completely that even if I’d been able to control my body, I wouldn’t have been able to move.
Panic spread like acid from my chest through my veins, wreaking havoc in not only my body but also my soul as it cried out and begged for help. For him.
Once again, the boy who’d been the first to accuse me stared in my direction. “Burn.”
One after the other, the chorus of distorted voices changed, thirsting for me to surrender to the flames that soon would come.
My eyes darted around, searching for Dion in the crowd and silently pleading with him to protect me, to save me as he’d promised, but he just stood utterly still, his head canted, with an expression that mirrored what I felt.
The boy received a torch from one of the men who’d dragged me to the pyre, and he lowered the fire into the kindling.
The dry material caught instantly, flames spreading and eating away at the dry wood until the world around me was an inferno with me at its center.
Smoke rose and filled my failing lungs, enveloping me as pain howled through my body, and the acrid smell of burned human flesh and hair became overpowering.
The flames searched and found me, licking my skin, creeping into my flesh, boiling my blood, choking me from the inside, and dancing with my bones until I met my agonizing, gruesome end.
The last thing I noticed before death embraced me like a relentless lover was that Dion was gone.
He’d abandoned me. For a few glorious weeks, I’d known what it felt like to be cherished and protected, and I wished I’d never had that experience because the agony of being completely abandoned was so much worse than it’d have been to never feel this security in the first place.
Catapulted from my dream, I woke up for a short moment and stared up at the night sky. I was gasping and whimpering and couldn’t stop any of it because the horror of my dream refused to fade.
When I finally fell asleep again—my face wet with tears and my throat raw—I embraced merciful oblivion.