Page 17 of On Burning Paths

Then, taking care of Lyra, taking care of the manor. Working with Ivor and Hilda to maintain the house. Shaw and his men coming, asking for more and more and more money that we didn’t have.

And now, here, fighting to get my sister back.

It’s strange. I can’t think of a single thing that would make me feel enough pain to hurt myself. Or to not make it across the graveyard.

“I don’t have one,” I blurt, which causes both Fenric and Thorian to turn and look at me. Fenric looks confused, but Thorian’s eyebrows fly up.

“One?” Fenric asks.

“I don’t think I have a sin so dark to make me act like that.”

The two of them exchange a look, and I like that they’re finally connecting like this. Doing more than tolerating each other.

“I’m sure you think that, Nyx,” Thorian finally says cautiously, “but there’s probably something.”

I pull my arms tighter around my torso. “I’ve thought it through. Nothing comes to mind.”

"What about with your parents?" Fenric presses, stepping in closer to me, a flicker of emotion crossing his face.

I shake my head. “I’m sad they died, but I don’t blame myself for anything. I did the best I could, given the circumstances.”

"There's nobody you ever…got back at?" Fenric asks. "No dark moment of shame?"

I feel my cheeks heat. "The most shame I feel is about not being able to protect my sister, but I also know that's not my shame to carry."

Thorian lets out a noise. "You've never hurt someone? Taken advantage? Stolen something? A necklace from your mother's jewelry box, or candy from a store?"

"You think the Ashen will torture her over a sucker?" Fenric asks, raising his eyebrows at Thorian, disbelief and horror mingling in his tone.

"No," Thorian admits, crossing his arms. "But we can never be too safe."

"I've never stolen," I say. If I had, it might have made things a lot easier at home. In fact, there were a lot of things I could have done to alleviate our situation, and I never did. My parents raised me to place my own honor and morals above all else, even financial gain and prosperity. "I truly can't think of a pain I've caused to another that the Ashen could torture me with."

Thorian still doesn't look convinced, and for the next ten minutes, he quizzes me, forcing me to examine each person in my life. With every answer, he seems more and more surprised. His expression shifts, his thoughts no longer hidden, and I can tell he's experiencing complete and utter disbelief.

Which only makes me feel embarrassed. Is there something wrong with me?

Fenric lets out a low breath, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "She's actually serious."

"I know," Thorian says, and there's a strange quality to his voice. It’s quieter than usual, like a person still working through their thoughts.

Fenric looks at me like I’m something rare and special. Not with pity, not with suspicion, but with the open, unguarded expression of a man genuinely caught off guard. "Do you know how extraordinary that is? I could give the Ashen enough material to occupy them for a decade. And that's before we get to anything I'm truly ashamed of."

"As could I," Thorian says, and the admission is simple, unadorned.

I simply can’t imagine them doing anything terrible without reason. They only kill or hurt when they truly have no choice.

They look at each other, and then back at me, and I feel the warmth of their gazes even if I can't quite name the emotion behind them. Their expressions have softened, filled with a quiet wonder I'm not used to seeing from either of them. Like I've surprised them into seeing me differently.

"Right," Fenric says finally, clearing his throat. "So how does this help us?”

How does it help us?

My mind starts working.

“The two of you wear the blindfolds,” I say, speaking my thoughts aloud. “And I’ll lead you through the cemetery. I’ll watch for attacks from the other groups⁠—”

"What? Absolutely not," Thorian snaps, turning and stalking back over to his stump, conversation ended.