“He’s not worth it,” she whispered.
But he was.
He knew the name. He’d said it like a vow.
“Leave him tied,” I said, my voice raw. “We are moving soon.”
And for a long moment, no one spoke.
Wynessa
His hands weren’t shaking.
That was what terrified me most.
Blood dripped from his knuckles. It ran in slow rivulets down his forearms, pooling at the edge of one sleeve before soaking into the fabric. Some of it had dried already, smeared like old paint across the side of his neck. His blade was still in his hand.
He hadn’t even bothered to clean it.
I had never seen Erindor like that before. Not even during the Vorrhound ambush. Not even when the raiders charged atus with blades drawn and murder in their eyes. Then, he’d been swift. Focused. Protective.
But this…this wasn’t protection.
This was punishment.
He had hurt that man not to save us. Not to stop a threat, but because he wanted to. He needed answers, and he knew exactly how to make a body scream them out.
The name ‘Riven’ seared him, a sudden, sharp pain that made him react with rage.
It broke him. Or maybe that broken part slipped free again.
He walked away from the ruins as if nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t tortured someone in front of us. Like his boots weren’t trailing red behind him.
I followed.
He didn’t slow when I caught up. He didn’t glance at me. Just kept moving with long, rigid strides, jaw locked tight.
“Erindor,” I said, quietly at first. “What was that?”
No answer.
“You knew him,” I pressed. “Or the name. Riven.”
Still nothing. Only the crunch of leaves underfoot and the sticky sound of drying blood flaking off leather.
“Tell me, please.”
“I said we’re moving,” he snapped, finally turning his head enough for me to see the flash of cold rage in his eyes.“Don’t push this right now, Princess.”
I stopped in my tracks, stunned by the bite in his voice. He never called me by name like that.
A pause. He must have felt it too, because he stopped walking.
His shoulders heaved once. Then again.
“Do you really want to know?” he asked, still not looking at me. “Because once I tell you, it will not fit into whatever neat, noble idea you’ve built of me.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m not afraid.”
