Page 146 of Starside

And a blade settles against my throat.

I go very still. And I don’t know whether to weep in relief or weep for myself for being so damned stupid, because I know that sword.

A voice dark as night says, “You didn’t go home.”

His blade is still against my neck. “No,” I whisper, my pulse beating against its metal.

“You … turned back,” he says, like it’s the most idiotic thing in the world. Because it is.

“To warn you,” I manage to say, the foolishness of that endeavor hitting me with full force as he presses that blade harder, right at the base of my jaw, metal against flesh. I wait to feel the sting of blood. To suffer the consequence of this very stupid decision that I almost certainly deserve. I inhale sharply.

“Fuck, Aris,” he says, and the cold metal is ripped away. Sheathed.

I whip around to face him. He’s soaking wet, water dripping from his hood, and down his armor. He swam through the dark waters.

Was it to hunt me? Or did he hear the cavalry somehow?

All I know is he just had every opportunity to end me for good and take my weapon. But he didn’t.

We just stand there, staring at each other. I’m still panting from the running.

“There’s a bounty on our heads,” I finally say, through all the heavy breathing.

His head turns slightly toward the cavalry behind me. I hear the splash of water as the warriors begin to wade into it. “I figured.”

“Do you know why?”

“Our swords” is all he says.

Right.

My sword is a gift—but it’s also a death sentence. Apparently it’s special enough that powerful people on Starside want it. It must be one of the heirs. Only they could command such forces.

And if they’re here … someone gave us up.

Was it those knights from the village who alerted their lord to it? Someone else who caught a glimpse of us? Was it the hunter?

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Raker knows about the pursuit. He’s safe.

Of course he is. Did I really think I would be the one to save him? Stupid. I never should have turned back. I just lost hours. My body is aching with all the energy it took to get here so quickly.

He’s made it clear I am a burden to him. He doesn’t want to work with me. Shame heats my face, shame that I came back, and that I am all the things he called me.

“Good luck, then,” I say tightly, trying to maintain any shred of self-respect. I make to move past him.

His fingers graze my wrist. They’re still burning hot, even in the freezing rain.

Slowly, I turn to face him.

Is this the moment he demands I give up my sword again? Or finally takes it from me? Or does the honorable thing of challenging me to a duel, one I know I won’t win?

I wait for his next move, chest rising and falling quickly, and he just stares down at me. He stares, and stares, and all I see is a shadow. A glint of a mask. A demon.

Finally, Raker drops his hand, like my skin has burned him. “You can follow me,” he says, his voice a deep rumble.

I blink, shock rendering me speechless. It takes a few moments for the words to sink in. When they do, I’m immediately furious.

“Fuck. You” is what I want to say. I want to scream. I want to tell him how much his words hurt me, and see if I could ever hurt him back. But this isn’t personal. There’s nothing between us.