Page 242 of Starside

She silences me with a hand on my arm. “I made my choice, and I don’t regret it.” She looks up at the sky. “You are the ember that lights the torch, Aris. I know it. The world is about to change … and it’s time we stopped hiding. It’s time we actually do something.”

Conviction rings through her words. She dips her chin.

“Now, come,” she says, leading me toward the rest of the women. “Tomorrow, you finish your quest. You deserve at least one night of peace.”

42

The faeling not only saved me—she brought us somewhere to sleep: a starless, black, secluded cave. The smooth stone is cold beneath my bare feet. My scabbard is heavy in my hand. Raker is a towering shadow behind me, following me for once. Maybe he’s too tired to protest. He hasn’t said a word in an hour. We walk down a tunnel until we reach a circular clearing with a waterfall trickling onto a slab of obsidian rock tilted slightly to the side, letting it drain somewhere below.

A few feet in front of it sits a bed.

Well, a makeshift one, anyway. The forest nymphs Este summoned managed to find dozens of thick, clean sheets, stacked together to make the most comfortable spot I’ve seen in a long while. All I want is to bury myself in it, and sleep forever, and ask Raker how comfortable the cold stone floor is in the morning. But first, I need to wash the remaining soot and ash away.

He says nothing as I head toward the waterfall in the dress they gave me. The nymphs’ fabrics are barely there at all, translucent when wet—I’ve seen them—but I’m so grateful for the rush of clean, cold water that I don’t care. It’s not like Raker will be looking, anyway.

I take my time. I carefully undo my braid. I scrub the cinder from my hair and then my skin, until it’s smooth again. I clean the blood off my sword. Then, after the evidence of the duel is gone, I sink to my knees. Sit on my heels. Tilt my head up to the water and let it soak my every inch, drops like cold fingers threading through the roots of my hair, smoothing my rough edges, letting me forget, for just a moment, how much of my own blood was shed today. How much more will be shed tomorrow. Tomorrow. The day I finally face the gods. I sigh and release a fraction of the tension in my stress-coiled bones.

When I’m done, I turn to see Raker standing very still. Watching. In the same place he was ten minutes ago.

His expression is the same as it’s always been—closed off. Heartless. Cold. But we’ve survived weeks across Starside together. We’ve slayed creatures with claws like swords; we’ve made it out of castle rooms painted red with blood; we’ve survived demons that crawled into our minds. As much as I hate it, and him, I know him. I can see the slight tension in his shoulders. The way the vein down his sword-wielding arm is taut. How his frown doesn’t reach his eyes.

Before, I would have thought he looked disgusted. Now I can see he almost looks pained.

Slowly, I rise. Water drips down the sheer fabric that might as well not even be there at all. He can see everything. Including the thin silver lines like roots down my neck, chest, and arms. Glowing faintly in the light.

And he’s not looking away this time.

“I’m likely going to die tomorrow,” I say, my voice coming out in a rough whisper.

He doesn’t correct me.

“There’s—there’s one thing I haven’t tried.” I can’t believe the words have left my mouth. The Aris from weeks before is screaming from the past, What are you doing? Don’t humiliate yourself.

But even though I knew from the start that this would kill me, being so close to all too imminent death makes me fearless. It makes me ask for exactly what I want, for the very first time in my life.

I don’t shrink under Raker’s gaze, not the way I have before. I don’t bend under his unrelenting scrutiny.

Because he seems to get my meaning immediately. His frown deepens. He’s trying hard to look irritated—of course he is. His pride and position and a million other reasons make admitting to wanting to spend a moment with me that isn’t for the good of the quest impossible.

“Are you truly so desperate?” he finally says, his voice harsh. But he’s said worse. So have I.

“Yes,” I reply.

His mouth was open, likely halfway to another barb, but my response shocks him into silence. It’s always been a duel with us, hurling words like throwing stars back and forth, clashing swords, leveling glares across rooms that end in spilled blood.

Tonight, I’ve laid down my sword. It’s still sitting beneath the falling water, its metal glimmering.

Still, he looks wary, like he’s expecting this is a ruse, a way to kill him while I can. A way to finally lay claim to his own glorious blade.

I slowly uncurl my fingers, until he’s staring at my palms. “Unarmed.” I turn all the way around, for good measure. There’s no concealing anything beneath these sheer, wet fabrics.

When I face him again, his hands are in fists, knuckles white, veins taut. He’s standing so still, I’m not sure he’s breathing.

Harlan Raker is a famed, merciless warrior—and right now, he looks every inch as deadly as his reputation. For even though I’m unarmed, he’s armed to the teeth.

I should be afraid. I should be ashamed of myself. I take a slow step toward him.

He doesn’t move a single inch.