Chapter 18
“Trust no one but your king and your gods.”
The second night in Summit’s Ridge was worse than the first. The floorboards creaked with every whisper of wind, and I lay rigid on the cot, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held the answers.
Sleep never came—not with Lily a few feet away, breathing steadily, plotting.
They’d threatened me once. If they tried again, I’d have to act. Gods help me, I’d already pictured it—the weight of my blade, the warmth of blood—but I wasn’t sure if I could strike first.
Telling Rowan had crossed my mind more than once, but that would only feed the culled’s whispers. No, this was my mess. There was no dignity in cowardice, no safety in begging mercy from wolves.
So I lay awake, counting breaths and imagining exits. By dawn, I had none.
We left at first light, traveling in the groups we had arrived in.
Once we reached Lowry’s Pass, a rocky path that ascended and snaked through the mountains, Rowan warned everyone that we could not ride our horses until the trail plateaued. He said it would take about a day to reach the caves that cut through the core of the mountain range.
Rowan looked back at me as I trailed behind him, lifting his brow in a questioning glance. He could tell something was on my mind, but it was none of his business. He had gotten rather comfortable asking personal questions in the past few weeks, and it was my fault for letting him.
He was my captor, not my confidant.
I may have been able to walk untethered, but I still went where I was commanded to go. My leash was invisible, but still present.
Rowan subtly took my wrist and pulled me closer to him and our horse, leaning in to speak.
“You’ve been sending daggers at me all day with those eyes. What have I done this time?”
I tugged my wrist out of his hold and stepped away from him. “Do I need another reason to hate you?”
“I will not apologize for doing my sworn duty.”
I was about to retort when I tripped over a rock that had been kicked under my feet, nearly causing me to tumble over the edge.
I watched as loose rocks cascaded down the mountainside.
An image of my body among them filtered into my head, and my breathing became ragged.
Rowan had caught me by my elbow and reeled me back against his chest. My eyes were still focused on the edge when he brought his hand to my face and turned it toward him.
“Can you look where you’re going?” His words were curt, but his touch was oddly gentle.
He scrunched his nose and examined me for any injuries.
“Sorry,” I said breathlessly.
He released me and inhaled sharply.
“Just… watch your step.” His voice was stern, but raspier than normal. He resumed guiding the horse up the road, and I tentatively followed. A crisp clearing of someone’s throat had me turning my head backward.
It was Aeva.
“Oops,” she said with a devilish grin.
When we reached the plateau, the colors of the setting sun painted the Sky.
I looked out over the vast landscape, and my breath caught at both its beauty and the height.
Rowan had given the command for us to make camp at the pass’ large, cavernous entrance.
My eyes could see little inside because of its midnight interior that burrowed deep.
I understood that going through the mountains was quicker than going over, but I did not entirely trust the stability of a cave that had been carved out over a century ago. The stuffy scent of musk wafted through the air. I knew it would only grow thicker the deeper we ventured.
Rowan and the other Veilers began setting up camp while the culled took their blankets and claimed a spot further in.
Torches were lit and lined up against the rock.
A few Veilers set off into the tunnel, clapping their hands loudly and letting out shouts to scare away any predators lurking in the shadows.
I peered back into the darkness of the mountain, unsure of what I would see, but I was met with nothing but stale air.
One Veiler, Yan, was building a small fire within the cave. He was a large, burly man with a long black beard and a hairline that started mid-scalp. Despite his sheer size and power, he didn’t radiate the same dangerous energy that the others did. He had a calmness that made me feel steadier.
I walked over to Yan and sat close by while he struck two pieces of stone together.
I watched silently as sparks kindled the fire before us.
There was no one in our immediate area, and my curiosity beckoned me.
I’d rarely spoken to any Veilers other than Rowan, except for my occasional spat with Renata and the few times Balor attempted to attack me.
“Why are you here?” Either my voice or bluntness startled him, because he jolted back slightly, brows half-raised as he faced me.
“What?” His voice was ragged, almost like he was out of practice.
“Why are you a Veiler? You hardly seem like the type.”
I understood why the Veilers would want him. His sheer strength and stature could make anyone cower at the sight of him alone. However, his gentle nature opposed that visual persona.
There was always a twinge of sadness clouding him. I saw him smile only once, and he never laughed when the others joked.
Yan gave me a small, knowing nod of his head. His next words were soft as he returned his gaze to the glowing embers.
“My son passed away five years ago.” His words were a brutal truth I wasn’t prepared to hear. His being a Veiler meant he was not innocent, but I couldn’t help feeling empathetic toward him. Even if only because we carried a similar pain.
“What was his name?”
Yan didn’t answer right away, and it made me wonder if he had to search the deepest reaches of his mind for the answer, if he pushed it back far enough so as not to be haunted by it every day.
Or perhaps it was the exact opposite. Maybe the name was always on the tip of his tongue, trying to escape, but the release of it was worse than keeping it at bay.
“Arlo.” His jaw clenched as he peeled off his coat, pulling up his long sleeve to reveal the name tattooed in delicate script along his forearm. He let me stare at it for a few moments before covering it once more.
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“He was a beautiful boy.” The silence was icy, even in the presence of heat licking at our skin from the fire.
“I lost my brother and father many years ago,” I said just as softly, and Yan flicked his eyes back to mine.
His honesty made me want to impart some of my own, which I seldom acknowledged.
“I understand the control that grief can have over a person. I did many things that I regret in the wake of losing them, all in attempts to curb the pain. Yet it never really goes away.”
“I don’t regret joining the Order.” His words were more bitter than they had been seconds prior.
“Why?”
My confusion must have been clear on my face, because Yan let out a small sigh.
“Arlo was our miracle child, blessed to us by Netali herself. He had his mother’s eyes but…
but he had my face.” I watched his chest shudder as he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“Every time she looked at me, it reminded her of him.” His eyes opened, and great sorrow flickered in the reflecting flames.
“Being in the Order keeps me away while still allowing me to make sure she remains provided for. When my service is done, I pray I will return home to a wife who can look upon my face once more.”
“But Veilers can serve for years, sometimes decades, before they are pardoned. You might be an old man by the time you return home. How do you know she will wait for you?”
Yan rolled his shoulders back and stiffened his neck. I thought that perhaps my line of questioning had gone too far. However, it didn’t stop him from replying.
He looked to the dimming light on the horizon, and his throat bobbed.
“I don’t.”
“Why risk it then?”
“Love.”
That was all he said before he suddenly stood and walked away.
I continued to sit on the stone floor, listening to the crackling firewood. What Yan had said struck a nerve deep within me. My mind stirred in the silence that followed until all distant conversations faded away.
My thoughts were littered with flashes of a large, calloused hand, firmly holding my own.
The sound of my father’s boisterous laugh rang in my ears.
His blue eyes were as pale as mine, and his smile was the warmest sight that sent pangs to my chest. After all these years, I still felt the space created by his absence.
I spent most of my past grieving the loss of my brother, too embittered to mourn my father.
Tears slipped, burning my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away and stood, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.
There were too many people, and I needed to get away before I made a fool of myself and had a breakdown for everyone to see.
Thankfully, no one seemed to notice when I quietly disappeared outside the cave.
I ventured just far enough away from the entrance to feel both security and solitude.
On the way out, I bit my lip so hard to keep myself from sobbing that I drew blood.
The altitude made it harder for me to catch my breath as the world spun around me.
I sank to the Ground and anchored my knees tightly to my chest, dropping my head between my legs.
I let the thick mountain air settle in my lungs while I tried and failed to take purposeful deep breaths.
Once my breathing evened out, I leaned my head back against the hard stone of the mountain and tried to imagine absorbing its grounding power. It was working until a gust of wind hit my face, making me shudder and my teeth chatter.
“All alone?” A dark voice purred.
My eyes snapped open, and my muscles seized. The silhouette before me was none other than the shadow that had been haunting my nightmares for the past few weeks.
Balor.