Chapter 23 Ashes & Oaths #2
We ride in silence for what feels like hours. The ancient forest sways around us, dappled in gold and green. Ferns shiver in our wake. Birds lift from their branches. And somewhere behind us, the soft hooves of a new life follow.
I realize how much I miss Marb. Mariel, Cassy, even Vivian. It’s only been a day, but a part of me aches to return, to know they’re alright.
And at the rate we’re going, it will take at least two days to reach the keep through this vast, tangled forest. That means two days lost. Today was supposed to be Elena’s day. Cassy’s tomorrow.
Cassy won’t mind. Elena will.
Maybe if we return by Wednesday, my day, I could give it to her.
Three whole days. Just me and Keiren. I shiver at the thought.
Aetherion suddenly stumbles forward, slipping in the mud. I go careening toward his neck, arms flying forward in an effort to hold onto something, anything. My eyes clamp shut, bracing for impact.
But it never comes.
I open my eyes to find the ground safely beneath us once more. Aetherion has regained his footing.
Keiren’s arm is tight around my torso, anchoring me to him, the reins still in his other hand.
We’re sitting flush now, my back pressed firmly to his front.
I take a deep breath as the adrenaline of the moment releases its grip.
For a moment, I just rest in him—in the warmth of his body, the scent of smoke and cedar and leather.
He held me like this last night, too, wrapping me in safety and warmth. And just like that, returning to the Onyx Keep doesn’t feel so urgent.
Saints and sinners, what is the matter with me? This man is my enemy. My jailer. The reason I’m here. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. Not like this.
“Are you alright?” His voice breaks through the haze. I turn to meet his gaze—sapphire eyes lit with gold, glinting with concern.
I shake my thoughts away. “I’m fine. We should keep going.” I gesture toward the thickening clouds ahead; he was right about the storm.
He doesn’t loosen his grip as we ride. I can feel every muscle in his body, tense and alert, rippling with each step.
“You can let go now, Your Highness,” I say. “The path has evened out.”
Silence.
I stiffen. “Seriously. I’m fine. Let go.”
“Not a chance. I won’t risk you falling and injuring yourself.”
“I’ve been riding since before I could walk,” I retort. “Nothing is going to knock me off this horse. Either way, will you please at least loosen your grip? I can barely breathe.”
He relaxes then, just enough that I can finally take a full breath. One hand holds the reins, clenching and then relaxing. The other slides to rest gently on my hip.
A soft nicker sounds behind us. We both turn just as the colt flaps his wings and lifts off the ground for the first time. He hovers just a few inches in the air. Sauntering along behind him, Ashwing nickers with pride.
“Your instincts saved them,” Keiren says, voice low. “And me.”
I shake my head. “No. You don’t owe me anything, Your Highness.”
A pause. Then—
“Keiren,” he says softly. “Please. Just call me Keiren.”
I stare straight ahead. The sunlight flickers like water through the trees.
“Alright… Keiren.” I keep my eyes forward. “Tell me—what do you know about Pegasi?”
“They haven’t been seen in centuries,” he says. “They were the pride of the Old Guard—swift, loyal, and rare. My mother rode one. I remember…” His voice fades.
“What?”
“Back then, all magical creatures were free to roam Abrellia. Their numbers were great, before the purging.”
I glance sideways, catching his profile through the fog of memory. His jaw is tight, his eyes distant.
“I still don’t understand,” I say quietly. “Ashwing was bred with a normal stallion. He had no wings.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he admits. “She gave birth in the Forest of Monsters. That place is old. Strange. Some say it awakens bloodlines long thought dead.”
He pauses. “And since horses are distant descendants of Pegasi, it would make sense that the forest’s magic could alter her pregnancy—especially if she spent a significant amount of time there looking for you.”
The thought hums through me.
My sweet girl journeyed all that way to find me.
If I ever make it back, I’ll have to thank Kat for teaching them how to open gates, after all. A quiet laugh escapes me.
Then the warmth fades.
Kat.
I wonder if she’s married Tobias by now. If they’re still at the ranch. If they’re planning a family of their own.
The ache settles in my chest, deep and familiar.
His gaze drops to the Pegasus dagger tied to Brimstone’s saddlebag, the same one Aaron slipped me on the day of the Bloodmoon. “That dagger,” he says. “Family heirloom?”
“Yes.” My voice is cautious. “How did you—”
“The hilt,” he says. “It’s carved with a Pegasus. I remember those. My father had a set made for the Pegasusmasters of the South. Only their bloodline could tame them. They were quiet folk. Loyal to the end.”
My throat tightens. He’s talking about my family.
“What happened to them?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
He closes his eyes. “They were slaughtered. Or fled. After my father declared war on all magical bloodlines.”
“So, there’s magic in my blood?”
“Yes. I sensed it the night we met. It’s faint, but it’s there.”
Silence follows, deeper this time. Raw.
As we ride on, drizzle begins to fall, kissing stone and skin with just a whisper of rain.
As we slow to let the other horses catch up, I reach for my boots to readjust them. Wet from the rain, they accidentally stretch too far. The damp tunic shifts against my back, revealing the burn scar I try so hard to keep hidden. A breeze skims across it like a phantom’s touch.
I flinch and instinctively pull my cloak tighter, pressing a shielding hand against my exposed skin.
Keiren says nothing, but I feel it—the subtle shift of his body, the pause in his breath.
Again, he notices.
His gaze lingers, then flicks away. He doesn’t ask, and for that, I’m grateful.
We head slowly down the winding path with Brimstone, Ashwing, and the foal following close behind. Rain lashes through the trees, and the dirt beneath us turns slick. Keiren’s limp worsens with every step, but he doesn’t complain.
Eventually, he stops and swings down from Aetherion, grimacing as his boots sink into the mud. “There’s a place not far from here. We can shelter from the storm there.” His voice is rough with pain.
I move to dismount, but Keiren places his hand on my hip and brushes my waist, its warmth startling even through soaked layers, stopping me. He shakes his head, meeting my glare with a maddening calm. “Save your pride for drier ground.”
With an annoyed huff, I sit back in the saddle.
He leads us down an overgrown trail, rain soaking us to the bone.
The forest blurs into streaks of gray and green.
Thunder cracks above as the path narrows, then opens suddenly at the edge of a cliff, where a wide waterfall crashes into a pool below.
Mist billows up from the surface, catching the last light of day like smoke.
Without hesitation, Keiren slips behind the veil of water, disappearing into the stone.
I dismount, peering into the darkness as my boots slide in the mud. Brimstone nudges me forward, and I clutch his reins tighter before following. Cold water pelts me as I step through the falls.
The roar softens into a hush. The cavern beyond the cascade is vast and unexpectedly warm.
Steam clings to the air, mist curling along ancient stone walls.
A natural spring glows faintly in the center, pulsing with some inner light.
Patches of wild grass rise between cracks in the stone, and soft moss carpets the ground like velvet.
High above, a thin shaft of daylight pours through a natural skylight in the ceiling, illuminating the glistening pool like a sacred altar.
I can’t stop staring. “This place is…”
“Ancient,” he finishes for me. “My mother used to bring me here as a boy. She said the spring has healing properties. We’ll be safe here.”
Safe.
That word shouldn’t make my chest ache—but it does.
He helps me settle Brimstone, Ashwing, and the foal near a patch of grass, brushing a calming hand over the colt’s flank before moving to gather some dry kindling. He moves with the practiced efficiency of a man who’s done this before. A man used to surviving alone.
I kneel by the spring, cupping the warm water in my hands. A faint whiff of lavender reaches my nose and, under it, something older. Something sacred.
Behind me, I hear the rustle of fabric. I turn—and jolt to my feet.
Keiren is undoing the buckle of his belt. He begins peeling the soaked tunic from his chest. His bare shoulders gleam in the mist.
“What are you doing?” I snap, pulse spiking.
“Take off your clothes,” he says simply, not looking at me as he tosses his soaked tunic on the ground before reaching for the buckle again. “Then we’ll—”
The belt jingles, leather brushing metal. The sound rips through me like a blade.
“No!” The word comes out like a desperate cry.
The cave walls close in. My lungs shrink. My body locks, and I can’t breathe. I stagger back and collapse to my knees, hands clawing at the mossy floor. The scent of wet stone, the warmth of the air, the belt—the belt—it’s all wrong. Too much.
“No, please—don’t!”
“Fire—” Keiren’s voice draws near, low and alarmed.
“No, please!” I cry out, this time trapped in a horrifying memory. The locked door, hands on me pressing me down. Hands on me—there are hands on me.
My eyes fly open to find Keiren’s hands on either side of me, holding my arms and squeezing.
“Please don’t—don’t touch me!” I cry out, shoving his chest as hard as I can.
He immediately releases me, and I fall to the floor, sobbing.
I know the memory isn’t real, but I can’t stop shaking.
I can’t stop the sobs wracking my body. Then I detect a sound echoing off the cave walls—one other than my hysterical wailing.