Page 66 of Where We Belong

No. It’s a trick. It isn’t real. But my heart doesn’t know the difference. I stretch lower and grab for him, fingers locking around his wrist, but I’m not strong enough. My boots skid against the uneven ground as I lean back, every muscle screaming. I grit my teeth, his hand crushing mine, but he’s too heavy. He’s slipping. Then I feel a tug at my waist. Another. And another. Warm hands wrap around me. I glance back, and it’s them. Dozens of them, linking arms behind me, bracing their feet and holding me in place. Every version of me I’ve ever been. The scared girl. The angry girl. The broken girl. The addict. The survivor. Their strength surges through me. Our strength. My strength. I roar and pull, feeling something flare in my chest, feeling their power pour into me. Inch by inch, Kaed’s chest clears the edge. With one final wrench, we drag him over and he collapses on top of me.

The forest screams. The shrill sound splits the air open and I’m catapulted across the clearing. Spat out. I hit the ground hard and clamp my hands over my ears. I’ve pissed something off. Then, silence crashes down just as violently and I drag myself onto shaky feet, finding Kaed there, steadying me with firm hands.

“Did I lose?” What if I ruined it? What if we can’t get in now because of me?

“I think,” Kaed says, a strange, almost impressed awkwardness in his voice, “you broke it.” The puddle is gone, and shards are scattered across the clearing, like watery glass. Eira brushes dirt from her trousers, looking suspiciously pleased.

“Does that mean I don’t have to do mine?”

Cook runs a hand slowly through his golden-brown hair, blinking at the wreckage. “Well, if there is no trial,” he says thoughtfully, “you cannot be tried.”

Chapter 60

Ashley

no longer will we wallow and wade,

in waters of sorrow and pity.

Aiden’s pissed at me again, but what’s new? He’s been muttering under his breath ever since we left the clearing. How I can’t just follow the rules. When I point out that, technically, Eira didn’t either, he finally shuts up. We don’t walk far before Kaed raises his hand slightly. Silence. And then— “Duck,” he roars, just as a dagger flies through the air, embedding itself in a tree. Figures in purple tunics, maybe thirty or forty of them, come pouring out of the jungle from every direction, faces covered with cloth masks.

Before I can even blink, Kaed throws the dagger back, burying it deep into the heart of the nearest attacker. Onyx smoke coils towards me, gently caressing my skin, and nudges me behind a boulder, the sweet smell of his magic surrounding me. I struggle against it before flashbacks remind me how pointless the effort is. I can help, I know I can. It’s my trial too. My pulse flares as violent ropes of black lash out from Kaed’s back, curling around the throat of a male, dragging him backward before he can land a strike on Aiden, who plunges his sword into someone’s chest without a thought. I have to force myself to remember it isn’t real. Cook clumsily dodges a strike with a small smile. He’s loving this. He slides the sword from his belt and drives the blade into his attacker’s skull with a horrible cracking sound, before stepping away to trip up another one.

Arrows fly through the air, landing in a line around me. Recognition draws faintly on Aiden’s face before his eyes lock on mine. He throws himself over me before a deafening blast hits. My ears ring as fluid rains down, searing my skin. I hiss in pain, and so does he. Hopefully, Aiden has won his part in the trial by choosing to do the right thing. The smoke binding me has dissipated and the arrows have left craters in the ground. The blast has knocked Eira off her feet, her body lying lifelessly on the dirt. Maybe he was supposed to have saved her instead.

“Eira!” I shout, but Aiden’s already there, defending her body from the onslaught of attackers. He fights like a gentleman, as if he’s painting instead of killing. More masked fae pour out from nowhere. I need to do something. Anything. I can’t break this one too. My heart slams against my ribs as I crawl away from the boulder, trying to think about what I know and not how I feel. I summoned the black flames before; I can channel my months of training. You asked for it, Ashley.

My fingers fumble for my sword. How impractical to have it on my back, that’s the last time I copy Kaed. A flurry of purple robes lunge at me, but I’m ready for the fuckers. I throw a blast of heat out of my left hand, my power meeting its mark. One attacker sizzles midair, robes and flesh crumbling to dust. My right hand thrusts the blade up into the other, like Kaed taught me, catching him just below the ribs. I have to push a lot harder than I thought. Crunching through meat, bone and gristle. Thick hot liquid pours onto my hands as he splutters, turning the pink butterfly hilt red. His body jerks and I shove him back with my foot.

On second thought, I don’t think I’m built for this. Bile rises in my throat as the final attacker falls. Eira has come to and is clearly okay since she’s pushing Aiden’s hands off her, muttering something about “I had him.” Kaed weaves around the bodies, making straight for me. The warmth of his hands on my back soothes me as my breakfast makes an appearance. Cook, though still a little winded, manages to frown at my vomit disapprovingly before something catches his eye. “Look!” He points to a door standing alone in the middle of the forest. “We did it!

Chapter 61

Ashley

Hand in hand with another raised,

we give credit where it is due,

I can’t quite gauge how Eira feels about Aiden. A mixture of love and hate, I think. Because as quickly as she brushes him off, she’s fussing over the burn marks along his neck and jaw from the explosion. He lets her, closing his eyes at her touch even though it’ll heal in minutes. I flinch when Kaed’s hand brushes the one on my neck. The feeling catches me off guard. It stings, but terror crashes into me just as fast. One blink and I’m back there again. One second, he was checking if I was hurt, the next his nails were slicing into the vein in my neck, drawing blood. Kaed jerks his hand away immediately and takes a few steps back, pain sitting plainly on his features. I want to tell him I’m okay, that it was only a stupid flashback, probably because I just saw him fighting, but my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. With a little tut she learned from me, Eira places a firm hand on Aiden’s bicep and steers him toward the waiting door.

“I really am tired of fifth wheeling,” Cook says very loudly to no one in particular.

I don’t know what I expected, but I expected something. Trumpets, guards, fireworks, maybe. Instead, we walk straight into the middle of a beautiful city square. Bright streets, rushing bodies and startled faces. Some stare warily and others gasp and bow before hurrying away. We’re clearly out of place, standing on these immaculate streets with dirt on our clothes and blood still drying on our skin. And then I start to notice, everyone is small. Not short exactly, young. Boys and girls who look no older than eight. Some twelve, maybe thirteen, skip through wide streets with stacks of books under their arms, arguing animatedly. Gesturing with ink-stained fingers and glasses slipping down their noses. Every now and then as we walk down the street, I spot someone who looks my age or older, but they’re so rare that Eira and I start a little game of ‘spot the grown-up.’ No wonder this is the city of knowledge. And no wonder Ashen Reach sends scholars here to learn and carry their teachings back. Cinder will be the first territory to die out, so they probably record everything. I stare in fascination at the whimsical shops with average-sized doors but low counters, shallow steps alongside larger ones and stacks of larger chairs outside cafes with little tables and benches.

A statue of Ixten and Kawir stands proud in the square and under it, a blood fountain like the one by Cinder Tower. A sleek open-top carriage glides toward us, pulled by loads of bunny-like creatures. I’ve never been a fan of animals, but these are cute. Two tiny people climb out, draped in layered purple fabrics. Hunah and Xalan. They bow quickly to us, beckoning us onto the train.

“We just had word of intruders in our forests and saw you in our looking glass,” Hunah admits, a little flustered, “we apologise, we were not expecting you. Nonetheless, we are very glad you decided to come.”

We board, riding through the heart of the city. Past massive universities, libraries and more libraries, bookshops and parks swarming with scribes and outdoor lectures. It’s overwhelming, but I like it. Cook is giddy, pointing out all the landmarks and where his parents grew up. Kaed looks even bigger than usual in the tiny carriage. He searches my eyes for consent, before sliding closer to me as if trying to take up less space on the little seats. And I’ve never been so aware of someone’s arm brushing mine.

The train slows and the palace of Cinder Cliffs comes into view. It’s giant. Built of layered terraces and courtyards. Pale stone walls stamped with angled patterns and masks, their eyes watching over the grounds below. I’m positive one winks at me and a shiver runs down my spine. Gold-threaded purple banners drift in the warm breeze and pretty, pink fountains ripple through the greenery. Bright-eyed teenagers in purple robes, skin riddled with acne, guide us through little doors. I try to muffle a laugh when Kaed has to stoop and shuffle through sideways. Through the corridors, the walls are lined with moving shelves of books and Aiden looks like he’s in heaven. When Xalan points down a branching corridor, I try not to look at the guards at the end of it dragging dripping sacks into another room. Mer Army parts. Someone was attacked. I find myself hoping they got there in time.

“Please rest and wash,” he says. “Attendants will assist you in your room. Dinner will be served when the gong sounds.”

“Did he say room? As in singular?” Aiden hisses to Cook out of the corner of his mouth.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before. Yes, it’s custom for all guests to share a room. It’s considered rude to split up a party.”