“Nothing.” She points at my blade. “What’s with the marker?”
Pushing up, I cross my arms and scan her from head to toe; every muscle seeming poised tomove. Like she’s standing on the outskirts of a village, waiting for the first arrow to strike from an approaching army moving through the Mists.
I keep watching, hoping for her to meet my gaze, but she seems intent to study the map, scouring it like she’s never seen one before.
I release a slow sigh. “It’s pinpointing the location of a moonshard.”
She stills like she did before. When she finally looks at me, her eyes are almost luminous. “In Bhoggith?”
I nod.
“You plan to retrieve it?”
“I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.”
“Before the fall?”
Another nod. “My duty to my kingdom is pulling me in that direction anyway, which opens the opportunity.” A beat of taut silence slips by before I say, soft and slow, “If I can’t get it … there’s a big chance it’ll be lost forever. And Slátra will never be whole again.”
Imove through the burrow’s toothy mouth, past glistening stalactites clinging to the upper arch like the sabers of some ice beast readying to chomp down. Frosted twigs crunch beneath my boots as I heave the bridle farther up my shoulder, making for Líri curled in a loose, luminous coil—wings swept around her body.
She crimps the wing half hiding her face, like closing a fan. Just enough for me to see her glittery eyes peeping at me over the rim.
A deep-throated whine emanates from her chest.
“I don’t like it, either,” I murmur, only a few long steps away when a stab of pain plows through my foot. I stumble as it gouges up my shin, like a metal wedge splitting the bone in agonizing increments.
Then it reaches my kneecap anddigs.
My legs give way.
“Fuck … you … Sereme,”I drudge out as I fold against the ground, eyes wide, breath caught—all the muscles in my leg pulled so taut I’m sure they’re about to rip off the bone.
My vision blackens as the pain rages on.
Líri keens, and I’m doused by her frosty aura as she binds around me like a loose shield. Jolting me with a reminder of my Other’s poignant memory still heavy on my heart, too big to shove back beneath my lake.
Much like the moment she shared with Elluin, I don’t bother trying to hide my pain from Líri. There’s no point, given our bond is currently gaping. Forced to battle the agony beneath the shining spotlight of my beautiful, too-knowing Moonplume.
By the time Sereme’s torture session whittles, I’m bunched in a trembling knot, ready to hack off my leg.
A cold breath blasts my neck, followed by short snuffing inhales as Líri nudges me with welling intensity.
I reach up and blindly stroke the tendrils dangling from her jowls, wondering if Sereme’s planning to continue torturing me at such a rapid rate until I hand over the bloody package. If so, it’s going to be a rough few daes.
If the bitch gets me stabbed, I’m going to be so pissed.
I try to stand, stumble. Líri braces me with her wing while I work to catch my breath, waiting for the blood to return to my head.
Her snout presses against my sternum, and she peers at me through wide, unblinking eyes.
My chest fills with a cold swish of her concern, the emotion so rich and complex it’s impossible for me to fathom the full shape of it. Like the feeling is hewn from the space between stars. Frowning, I brush my hand across one of the scars mottling her cheek.
She’s afraid of losing me. Probably doesn’t help that she’s lost before—when Rekk slaughtered her previous rider, then forced her into a bond that took more than it gave.
She’s free of her shackle, but she senses mine is still clamped in place.
“I’ll figure it out,” I murmur, stroking the crest between her eyes. No ideahow, exactly, but one crisis at a time.
