Page 193 of Blade of the Nightking

He made a fist, then opened it, spreading his fingers and rolling his wrist. “Yes.”

Not even a thank you. I should’ve known better.

He turned the spit one final time before pulling the rabbit from the fire and, to my surprise, holding the skewer out to me. “Eat.”

I caught it just before he thrust it into my lap and scowled as hot grease spattered my trousers. He placed the second rabbit on the coals, and my gaze dropped to the one in my hands.

A body sprawled across a fallen log. The startling white ridges of a spine. So much blood…

My stomach roiled unpleasantly but I forced a tentative bite. The meat was like ash in my mouth.

Rìan reached for a stick and stirred the coals. They flared brighter for a moment, glowing red as sparks spiraled upward into the morning air. “That was your worst memory,” he said suddenly. “At the well.”

The memory opened inside me all over again, bringing with it the same sick weight in my chest. He nodded slowly, as though my silence told him everything he needed to know.

“Mine too,” he said. “Levinica…” His voice trailed off for a moment, as though her very name stole the strength from him. He drew a breath, straightened almost imperceptibly, and continued. “That was the worst moment of my life.”

He looked up at me and every thought died in my head. His eyes were dark depths of sorrow so profound they swallowed every trace of silver that usually burned there. I knew that grief. It was the same one I'd carried since my father's death.

“Why?” I asked, my voice no more than a shredded whisper. “Why would the well bring those to the surface?”

“I think…” he said slowly, staring into the fire as though the answer might be hidden somewhere within the flames. “I think the Gates of Othyr test the strength of the bond.”

“With memories?”

“With intimacy.”

The word fell between us like a stone.

“Intimacy?” I said, aghast.

A corner of his mouth twitched.

“Drink, once you have been judged thrice—Past and longing claim their price,” he recited grimly. “We each witnessed the other's worst memory, the defining moment in our past that left us most vulnerable. You saw my greatest pain. I saw yours. Few things are more intimate than allowing someone to witness the wounds that will never truly heal.”

I frowned down at the rabbit in my hands, picking another piece of meat from the bone. “So you're saying...” I began carefully. My mouth went dry.

“I’m saying the Gate showed us these things for a reason. The bond is considered sacred. Breaking it is sacrilege. Perhaps this is its safeguard—to force us to truly see one another before we make a choice that can never be undone. A chance to reconsider.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“No,” he agreed tightly. “It’s not. But at least now we can prepare for what the final two Gates might demand of us.” He held my gaze. “You may learn things about me you’d rather not know.”

A strange thrill coursed through me, and I buried it at once. I shrugged. “Perhaps it’ll show me something useful instead,” I challenged. “Something I can use against you when all this is over.”

The corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly. I swallowed hard at the sight of it. I hurriedly returned my attention to the rabbit in my lap, tearing away strips of meat and forcing myself to chew.

He leaned back against the log. “It’s already shown me something useful about you.”

His words caught me off guard.

I glared at him suspiciously. “Oh?”

“Your skills with a bow.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “I would hate to be your target.”

Something unexpected stirred inside me at the compliment. “You already are my target.”

He shrugged. “Then today I learned to stay just beyond your firing range. An advantage, if we ever meet on the battlefield.”