Concern edged his words. My friends didn’t have to say what they were thinking—none of them believed I’d survive the Skorn. “No. Watchtower duty all day. Maybe I’ll get a chance to read by a fire before sleeping. Hopefully Rykr fared better.”
We reached the edge of a brook, where the grass thinned, a tangle of brush and matted leaves scenting the mud with sweet, earthen decay. Dropping down, I pressed my hands over my face, willing the tension away. “Thanks for coming. I’m starving.”
Ciaran sat beside me and pulled a bundle from his satchel—smoked fish wrapped in paper and a small loaf of bread. “My mother packed it for you.” He handed me a waterskin.
I took a grateful sip as he snapped a blade of grass between his fingers. “I don’t understand why Darya didn’t give you time to train. Why put you in a godsdamned watchtower before you have to fight the Skorn?”
It was a good question, one I had pondered too. Seth’s decree?
“And you should know. People are talking about Rykr.”
I frowned. “What about him?”
“They’re questioning how he’s walking around without a single scratch after that flogging. Whispering about dark magic.”
“He has a self-healing ability.” I peeled the skin back from one side of the fish. “Rare, yes, but not dark magic.”
“Healing is Zhi magic. Pendarans don’t have it.”
My fingertips faltered.
Dammit, he’s right. I set the fish down, trying to think. I’d always considered myself clever, but lately, I was missing things. Sluggish. Too close to the situation to see what was obvious.
“Are you worried about dark magic, too? Or is this just because you don’t trust him?”
“I’m worried because he’s Lirien, Seren.” Ciaran tossed a stone into the brook with a splash. “He won’t change because of your oath, or what you’ve done for him. He’s just biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to strike or to flee. You’d make a huge mistake to trust him.”
I curled my arms around my knees, resting my chin against them. How many times had Ciaran and I sat like this? As children, we’d spent hours playing in streams, diverting them with rocks to float boats we’d created from reeds.
Then, when we were older, we’d take turns keeping watch while the other bathed after brutal days of training for the Vangar. Binding each other’s blistered hands and feet.
Ciaran knew me better than anyone—besides Amahle. I trusted his opinion implicitly.
But his prejudice blinded him. Jealousy, too.
As though to confirm my thoughts—which thankfully he couldn’t hear—Ciaran lifted a hand, settling it at the base of my neck. He rubbed gently, kneading the tension from my shoulders.
Touch was natural for us. I’d never worried about cuddling with him or enjoying his massages. He was like another brother to me. Although, given Madoc spent more time with Tara than me, he was closer than a brother.
But I wasn’t sure if Ciaran saw me the same way anymore. And now Rykr had driven a wedge between us.
“This is all my fault.” Breath snagged in my throat. “I never should have brought him back. I should have tried to heal him alone, in the forest, then we could have gone our separate ways. Maybe I would have broken the law, but I wouldn’t be under all this scrutiny. My honesty counted for nothing.”
The weight of his gaze was on my face, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Seren, you … you take too much responsibility for things on your shoulders. Things that aren’t your fault. You deserve to be happy. With someone who loves you and treats you well.”
I bit my lip. Ciaran wanted that someone to be him, though. And he loves me. We told each other everything—our fears our dreams. The deepest things in our hearts.
But despite his hopes, I would never be happy with him. Not the way he wanted. I loved Ciaran, but something about him—his hesitation, his need for certainty, the way his bravery came with a safety net—kept him from ever being the man I’d choose. I wanted someone reckless. Someone fearless.
A man who’d dive off a cliff after me without hesitation, even if he had to figure out how to fly on the way down.
His fingers pressed deeper into tight muscles of my neck, and goosebumps rose on my forearms.
I pasted a smile to my lips, turning toward him so that he was forced to drop his hand. I reached for the food once again. “I’m fine, Ciaran. You don’t have to worry about me.”
His brows drew together. “That’s not true, and you know it. You’re not fine. And even if you were, I’d still worry about you.”
A heavy feeling pressed in on my chest. I didn’t want him to say things that couldn’t be unsaid. Cross lines we couldn’t come back from. “Ci?—”
