I’m not a fool—I know Wren won’t leave the kingdom without her sisters. They’re young, and we still don’t know what the king had planned to do with his so-called honored guests.
I make a mental note to contact Maia and Theon. They’ll need to travel to meet up with us. Once they’ve arrived, we’ll have to get to the coast and find a ship that can carry all of us. I’ll have to pay the captain to look the other way while a panther joins us on board. It’ll be expensive but worthwhile to keep my bonded familiar with me.
I have some savings, but this will likely use most of them. Once we get to the other side, we’ll need funds to set ourselves up while I look for employment.
The first step is getting Wren’s sisters. Everything else will have to wait.
My head throbs, and I groan, leaning against a tree. Once, my biggest worry was my next hunt. Now, I’m juggling all of this. Sometimes, I can’t believe how much my life has changed.
After a few minutes, I resume my walk, mentally calculating how much money will be required to fund our escape when a branch snaps behind me. My hand flies to my hip, and I unsheathe my sword in a smooth movement, spinning around.
When I see who is behind me, my breath leaves me in a whoosh.
Alaric is a few feet away from me, his brow raised and fingers resting on the weapon at his side. We assess each other for a long moment before his hand falls away. Moments later, mine does as well, and I shake my head, relieved.
“Couldn’t sleep, Hunter?” he asks.
“Something like that.” I’m not sure whether it’s the silence of the night or the fact that Alaric was the first rebel to show me kindness, but I add, “I get... nightmares.” I roll my shoulders, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of the dragon. “You?”
“Patrol.”
I nod and start walking again, Alaric falling into step beside me.
The movement helps, reminding me that I’m alive and the dragon was nothing but a dream. If my humming bond with Mist is any sign, my gods-blessed is still asleep, and I find comfort in that. My familiar would warn me if something happened.
We stroll in silence for several minutes before Alaric says, “I get them, too.”
The admission rings through the night air.
“Oh?”
“My first kill. It... haunts me,” he confesses.
A rabbit darts out in front of us, and I shiver as memories of the first life I took flash before my eyes. The pained scream. The blood. The look of absolute shock in my victim’s eyes when they realized this was the end.
“I understand,” I say quietly. “It’s not like they teach us, is it?”
No one is ever prepared for that first kill or the way blood stains one’s soul.
The captain rakes a hand through his hair. “No, it never is.”
I make a sound of agreement in the back of my throat.
“They keep me awake at night,” Alaric says a short while later, breaking the silence that had settled between us. “Especially quiet ones, like tonight. In the silence, the dead are the loudest.”
“Do you see their faces? Or hear them?”
“Both,” he admits.
A beat passes. “Same with me,” I confess.
My soul is heavy, weighed down by the memories of those I’ve killed. As cumbersome as they are, I cannot rid myself of them. After all, it is my duty as the one who sent them to Adros to remember the dead. I cling to their faces, committing them tomy mind, knowing that in doing so, I am separating myself from the man who sired me.
I am certain the king is not burdened by the ghosts of those he killed. How could he be when they number in the thousands?
Keeping pace with me, Alaric murmurs, “Death comes at a price, and it is paid by the living.”
His voice is haunted, the tone one I’m far too familiar with.
