Page 32 of On Burning Paths

"Based on what evidence?" I ask.

"Extensive personal history."

"I'm helping you carry wood, Talon. Try to contain yourself."

He laughs.

Soon enough, Talon and I are moving through the forest, looking for firewood as the sun continues to set in the sky, deepening the purple and drifting into a navy blue. Every time we’re here, but not in the midst of a trial, I’m struck with just how beautiful this place is. Just how enjoyable it could be, if it weren’t for the beasts and competitors.

"So," I say, stepping over a root and scanning the ground for fallen wood. There's something easy about being alone with Talon, easier than I would have expected.

I pick up a solid piece of wood and put it in the crook of my arm. "What made you join the trials?"

Talon glances at me sideways, and for a moment the usual brightness in his face settles into quiet thoughtfulness. He crouches to collect a chunk of splintered log and adds it to his own pile before he answers.

"I can't tell you all of it," he says, without apology or deflection. He’s just being honest. "Not yet."

"That's fair," I say, and I mean it. We're all carrying things we're not ready to put down in front of strangers. "But is it the same reason as the rest of us? Running toward something, or away from it?"

He considers that. "Both, I think. It usually is." He holds back a branch so I can pass. "It's about more than the wealth or the lands. I want to be in a position where nobody can take power from me again."

Again. The word sits between us, and I don't push at it.

"Power is never more valuable than when you don’t have it.”

He looks at me then, really looks, and I think he’s surprised.

"Agency," I say. "That's what it comes down to, for all of us. Thorian, Fenric, you, me. We all just want to stop being at the mercy of something bigger than ourselves."

"How profound," he says, but his tone doesn't match the words, and when our eyes meet, his expression is entirely serious.

Thinking back to the day he saved me in the garden, I try to remember if he was like this then, too. He seems the type of man to veil his discomfort with humor, to discount his past with quick remarks, rather than linger on it.

I open my mouth to respond, but in the next moment everything happens fast.

Talon drops his firewood and spins, and before I can process what's happening he's in front of me, his body blocking mine completely. A split second later I smell it, the electrical crackle of Magnus's magic pushing up into my sinuses, sharp and acrid, and then there's a flash of purple in the trees and a streak of white energy tearing through the air.

It hits Talon square in the chest.

The force of it drives him back a step into me. I catch him by instinct, my hands fisting in his shirt, and the air between us turns sharp with the smell of scorched fabric and burned flesh that makes my stomach turn. I panic for a moment, thinking he's about to go up in flames, but he doesn't. He just rights himself.

He took it for me. I hadn't even known it was coming.

“You fucker,” Talon mutters, shaking his head, apparently impervious to whatever magic Magnus just cast on him. “A trapping spell?”

Magnus panics and tries to back pedal, but gets tangled in the brush. Talon, holding one hand to his chest, moves fast enough to swing his sword and nick the warlock on his side, which immediately opens with a crimson gush.

“Bloodsucker!” Magnus swears, his face going pale, his hand at his side, covered in blood. “You didn’t succeed in turning me before! You won’t now!”

"Idiot," Talon says, swinging his sword again.

Magnus turns and runs, disappearing into the forest. Talon stands straight, holding his sword menacingly, until he's satisfied Magnus is gone.

"Hey, Lady Nyx," Talon gasps, shooting me a what can you do look. “Apologies, but I think I might pass out.” Then he slumps against the tree, his sword drooping down by his knee, and I realize the shot to his chest wasn't as trivial as he played it off to be.

I take the sword from his hand before he drops it and slide it back into his sheath with more confidence than I feel. Then I duck under his arm, get my shoulder beneath it, and take as much of his weight as I can manage.

"You saved me," I say as we start moving. "Again."