“If you do,” I say, “I’ll burn that city to the fucking ground.”
My voice cracks.
Not loud. Not enough for the trees to notice. But enough for me to taste it.
The edge.
The fear.
I press my forehead to hers, jaw clenched.
“You’re not allowed to leave me,” I whisper.
A few feet away, Harriet exhales a puff of gas that wilts a sapling.
“She’s strong,” she says. “Too stubborn to die.”
“Shut up, snake,” I growl without looking.
She chuckles. Three of her heads do, anyway.
Charen snorts from the trees. “He’s all moony and tragic now,” he sings. “How romantic.”
I bare my teeth at the canopy. “I’ll gut you.”
“Promises, promises.”
River moans softly, tugging my attention back. Her lashes flutter. Her mouth parts.
“Kragna…” she breathes.
“Here.”
I brush her cheek.
She doesn’t wake.
But she leans into my touch.
And gods help me, that does something to my chest I don’t have words for.
I keep singing.
Another verse. Then another. Then I just sit, rocking her slightly like she’s a child and not the woman who stole my heart with a knife in one hand and a glare in the other.
I don’t count the hours.
But I feel every damn second.
When the sky starts to pale at the edges, and the trees turn from black silhouettes to silver shadows, I realize I haven’t blinked in a while. My body’s stiff, muscles locked from holding her so long, but I don’t care.
17
RIVER
Kragna’s silhouette swims into view, and for a moment, I think I’m dreaming again.
The fever has me by the throat, hot and wet, like a swamp pressed down onto my chest. My skin’s on fire, my thigh feels like it’s pulsing with broken glass, and I’m not sure what’s real until I see his face.
