A fake Ciaran might say this, if I was honest. Torment me with the guilt of what I’d done to him by choosing Rykr.
But Ciaran felt real.
The sharp bite of my nails into my palms grounded me in the present and I forced myself to my feet. “I said I would always catch you when you were falling, Ciaran. And I always will. Because I do love you. You’re my best friend. And that’s just as valuable as a lover.”
Ciaran stared at me, eyes wide with shock, then took a hesitant step forward. “Ser?”
I released a cry, then tumbled against him, my arms wrapping around him.
Rather than the cold, scaly grasp of a Nyxwraith, Ciaran’s arms were warm, his embrace tight as he wept against my neck. “Gods, Seren, it is you. Fuck. I thought you were dead. I thought Seth killed you.” His body shook, his chest racked with sobs.
All around us, a sharp hiss filled the air, more Nyxwraiths dissipating into the shadows, until the corridor brightened, the oppressive weight lifting from my chest like a vise torn away.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, pulling away. I gasped with pain again, clutching my chest.
“You’re bleeding.” Ciaran gaped.
“I’ll be fine,” I lied. He didn’t need to know how much pain I was in—or that I’d been poisoned.
“Seth dragged us all here. Left us in different cells. I guess we’re all in the Skorn trial together.” Ciaran mopped his brow with the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t have even known what the hell was going on if I hadn’t heard you and Rykr talking today. Those things … they’re fucking terrifying.”
“We have to find the others. If we were able to find each other, chances are these corridors are connected. And who knows how many other people are in the Skorn this year.” I took Ciaran by the hand, unwilling to let him go.
“You were right,” Ciaran said as we hurried through the space. “We shouldn’t have trusted Seth.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” My teeth chattered, and my legs were weaker. I’d lost blood, and maybe too much of it.
A familiar hiss made my feet stumble, then the space in front of us lightened.
Rykr stood at the end of the corridor, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with something between relief and disbelief. Sweat clung to his brow, his shirt was torn, but his eyes—those fierce, blue-green eyes—were alive.
Our gazes locked, and for a moment, the world stilled.
“Are you another test?” Rykr asked suspiciously, staring at my grasp on Ciaran’s hand.
My chest ached. “No, it’s me.”
“That’s what she said,” he muttered.
My stomach twisted. “What?”
He exhaled sharply. “They made me see you, Seren. Over and over. Each time, you stabbed me. Betrayed me. And each time, I had to kill you.”
My breath hitched.
“I don’t trust what’s real anymore,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.
My heart clenched. I had to break through to him.
“Then let me prove it,” I whispered. “Touch my wound. I’m still bleeding. If I were a Nyxwraith, I’d be whole.”
Slowly, he reached out. The moment his fingers brushed my skin, the bond flared—familiar, undeniable. His breath left him in a choked sound, a haunted look in his eyes.
“Seren.” His arms crushed me against him. “Gods, it really is you. You don’t move like them, you know—the Nyxwraiths.”
His words reminded me of the first time we’d met in that forest. “And you know how Nyxwraiths move?”
His eyes held a tired smile. “I’ve seen enough.” Then he added, “You talk too much for someone who’s bleeding out.”
