Page 56 of On Broken Bonds

I've never been held by a man like this before. But even as the thought occurs to me, I know that's not entirely why my pulse stumbles.

It's Thorian. The man who threw himself between me and monsters. The man who trusted me when I asked him to stay still and trust me. The man who is looking at me now as though making certain I'm truly alright.

We stare into each other’s eyes. His are like liquid gold right now, much lighter than his normal dark chocolate, and I wonder what that means.

Just sitting with him, it's the nicest feeling ever.

Then, Thorian shatters it by asking, his voice cold, “Nyx. What are you?”

17

Thorian

At first, when Nyx shoved me backward, I thought she'd finally seen the reality of the Trials and panicked. I've seen it happen before. Competitors freeze. Break down. Make reckless decisions because fear overwhelms them. The monsters, the blood, the realization that death is no longer theoretical. It changes people.

But that wasn't what I saw in her eyes. She looked terrified, certainly. Anyone would have been. Yet beneath the fear, there had been certainty. A purpose. As though she knew exactly what she was doing.

That should have worried me more than panic.

When she told me to stay still, every instinct I possessed screamed that it was a terrible idea. We were surrounded by monsters. Standing our ground should have gotten us killed.

Yet I listened.

Even now, I'm not entirely sure why.

I don't trust easily. Experience has taught me that trust is usually rewarded with disappointment, betrayal, or death. Most people spend weeks, months, even years earning what little trust I'm willing to offer.

Nyx had managed it in days.

And the strangest part is that I hadn't even realized it was happening.

Instead of getting us killed, she'd saved our lives. Against all reason, she'd known exactly what she was doing. With... magic.

The realization settles uneasily in my chest.

Since the moment I agreed to partner with her, I've viewed her as my responsibility. The one I'd have to protect. The one whose weaknesses I'd have to compensate for. I'd seen her struggle to hold a dagger. Seen her climb a cliff with shaking hands. Watched her throw herself into danger for a sister she loved despite having none of the skills necessary to survive these Trials.

Or so I'd thought.

Looking back, I realize I've spent every day focused on what Nyx couldn't do. She couldn't fight like a warrior. She couldn't climb like a shifter. She couldn't match the strength of a berserker or the speed of a vampire.

But she'd never claimed she could.

Now, with Nyx sitting in my lap and her magic a not-so-distant memory, I'm forced to confront a possibility I hadn't seriously considered before. Perhaps she doesn't need me to carry her through these Trials. Perhaps we've both been looking at her the wrong way.

Including me.

“Nyx. What are you?” I ask, and my words have an edge to them.

She doesn't answer immediately. The forest is quiet now, the immediate danger passed, leaving only the sound of our breathing and the distant calls of creatures somewhere deeper in the woods.

She's still sitting in my lap. Still close enough that I can feel the warmth of her through our clothes. I've spent days trying not to notice things like that. Trying not to notice the way her eyes catch the light when she smiles. Trying not to notice the admiration I feel watching her throw herself into impossible situations for someone she loves. The stubborn determination that keeps carrying her forward despite every reason to quit.

Trying not to notice how often my gaze finds her when she isn't looking. How often I wonder if she's safe. How often I think about touching her. Yet here she is, looking up at me with uncertainty in her eyes, and all at once those observations become impossible to ignore.

There's fear there. Not fear of the monsters. Fear of me.

The realization twists unpleasantly in my chest.