Page 25 of Embers of Ruin

“Are you sure you’re ready? I can practically smell the anxiety radiating from you. Do you perhaps need a moment to gather yourself?” I don’t hear the usual sarcasm in his voice and know he’s being sincere. But I don’t need his pity or sincerity right now. I need to figure out a way to get away from this place.

Straightening my spine, I nod as Onyx leads the way, injured hand forgotten. I don’t want to appear as if I’m afraid in any way, despite my stomach threatening to hurl the contents of my breakfast on the ground. Fear isn’t meant to exist in a place like this. I want to appear strong and confident—both things that I definitely don’t feel at the moment—even if the weight of sacrificing myself to the most corrupt man on the continent terrifies the hell out of me.

“There’s no need to be afraid, Lyra. King Thorin will not harm you.” He speaks as if he can hear my thoughts, and for a moment, I wonder if he can.

“I’m not afraid.” I turn my nose up, refusing to look at him. “I’m simply… admiring the city.”

I catch the knowing glance he shoots my way as he keeps pace.

I should feel steadier because I know Onyx is trying to reassure me, but the cold prickling sensation nags at me and I can’t help but feel as if I am walking to my death.

Maybe I could jump from one of those windows? That’s always an option. What if I did? I don’t know what the king has planned for me, but what if I just….

I tighten my grip on the reins and angle Bromir into motion before my self-destructive thoughts can go any further.

Onyx rides close enough that our stirrups nearly brush when the road narrows. He hasn’t moved back into the easy looseness I saw in Lycar, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect him to. In Andell, he is a fearsome leader. In Lycar, he was… relaxed. Maybe that’s the word I’m looking for. Maybe Onyx is extending kindness to me because he is as much a prisoner of the king and this city as I am about to be.

He says very little, but I can feel his attention moving over the road and people we pass, before occasionally lingering over me.

“Stop staring, Onyx. I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.” He leans his head back as his mouth twists into something that’s not quite a smirk or a smile.

When the path bends sharply and loose shale slides under my horse’s hooves, his hand comes out impossibly fast, fingers closing over my forearm to steady me. The grip lasts for a heartbeat before he lets go, but not before I feel the heat of his palm through my sleeve. I want to snap at him because, like I’ve said before, I can take care of myself, but I catch his gaze and can’t look away. Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me stop. His eyes are clear and it’s as if he can see right through me. I wonder if that’s his gift, and why he’s able to sense my magic.

“You’re staring again,” I say slowly, breaking the silence.

“You nearly slipped. It would be quite a shame to have traveled all this way to bring you here for you to… you know…” he makes a slicing motion across his throat, and I can’t hold my laughter. What a time to be alive. I’m about to meet the Shadow King, and he’s making jokes.

“I stayed seated on the horse.” I clear my throat, tightening my lips. I want to appear stern, but I fail. Miserably.

“You did,” he says, smiling. “A remarkable achievement. I feel as if we should celebrate you not dying. Making it to the palace in one piece is quite remarkable⁠—”

“Oh, shut up!” I cut him off before he has the chance to finish whatever nonsense he was about to say.

I turn my head toward him attempting to keep my dignity intact. “Mock me again, and I will make a serious effort to fall next time simply to ruin your afternoon. Perhaps I’ll break an ankle and you’ll have to carry me.”

“You’re a daring little thing, aren’t you.”

“One of my more charming qualities.” I smile sweetly and Onyx huffs out a laugh.

“How much longer?” I ask partly because I really do want to get this over with, but my stomach is beginning to rumble and it would be impolite to sound starved in front of the king. I might hate him, but I do have a sense of self preservation.

We ride in silence for a little while longer before Onyx asks, “What did you do in Elvora, when you were not insulting strangers and hiding from soldiers?”

I glance at him. “You mean before my life took this charming turn and led me to you?” I don’t know why I worded it like that, but I can’t take it back now.

He inclines his head, waiting for an answer.

I look ahead again, because the answer should be simple but it’s not. “Whatever needed doing, I suppose. I helped where I could, and tried to stay in the shadows. I gathered herbs to brew tonics. Back home, I’m one of Elvora’s healers. When people are sick to the point that I can’t heal them, I sit with them and ease their transition to the afterlife. I mended clothes badly, lied convincingly about my talent for it to make a few coins, and tried to be enough to prevent people from asking too many questions.”

“Too many questions about what?”

He knows the answer to that, and we share a knowing look.

“When you’re useful, people are more inclined to keep your secret. I learned long ago that trust can be bought for the right price…and sometimes that price is saving their child, husband, wife, mother…”

My voice trails off as I remember the place that I called home. What I said was true; when I was useful, the people that suspected I might have magic kept it to themselves. Whatever they thought I did to heal their loved ones never got back to me. It didn’t stop them from treating me as if I had the plague, though. As if I were the curse.