Page 26 of Embers of Ruin

“They weren’t very kind to me, though. I think a part of them knew I was… different. And they certainly didn’t hide the fact that I didn’t belong. But again, when you’re useful to people…”

“They turned their heads.” Onyx nods his understanding.

His jaw tightens once, the muscle ticking there before he smooths his face back into an unreadable mask. We don’t speak for a beat, letting the silence fill the space where our thoughts exist.

“You should not have had to hide it,” he says at last.

The words are so quiet I nearly miss them.

“No,” I reply, surprising myself with the softness of it. “I should not have. But that’s the king’s decree, not mine. So I do what I have to do to survive.”

I clear my throat. “And you?”

He looks ahead. “What about me?”

“What did you do before all of this?”

“All of what?”

I gesture between us, the road, his armor, and the city we are moving dangerously close to. “Before you developed a profession around kidnapping innocent women from miserable villages.”

One dark brow lifts. “Is that the official description of my duties? I don’t think I really like how you’ve phrased it.”

“Really?” I feign a shocked expression before it morphs into a smile. “It’s the most accurate one so far.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I trained.”

“For what?”

“For this.”

I sigh, running a hand through my unruly curls. “Speaking with you is a special brand of punishment. You say everything yet nothing! Have you always been so damned vague with your responses?”

“I don’t feel the need to talk just to hear myself. And despite your complaints—you continue talking to me. Do you like punishment, Lyra?” He says it teasingly, but there is a dangerous glint in his eyes that makes my stomach drop.

“I’m holding out hope that you’ll actually answer one of my questions.”

“How unfortunate for you, then.”

I don’t say anything, because I know that, true to his word, it is quite unfortunate.

* * *

We pass beneath the first watchtower not long after our tedious conversation. Torches line the stone wall with bright blue fire, and the guards stationed there straighten when they see Onyx. I barely have time to take in my surroundings because I’m so interested in their interaction. One of them raps a fist to his breast in salute. Onyx acknowledges him with a slight nod before continuing through.

I watch the exchange and hate the way it unsettles me to see Onyx this way. It shouldn’t because I have known, in the broadest sense, that Onyx belongs to the king’s guard. I’ve travelled with his sword, endured his orders and his infuriating composure long enough that this should not surprise me. Yet seeing men fall silent at his approach and the city receiving him in this way makes the truth of him feel larger than the man who shared Otto’s food with me back at the inn.

The gates come into clearer view as we descend. Dark iron rises between towers of black stone etched with blue lines that pulse faintly, and I feel the magic beneath its surface. The blond-haired guard at the arch glances once at Onyx’s face and steps back immediately. His gaze slides to me then, and lingers just long enough to note my travel-stained cloak and the silver hair tucked half beneath the hood. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. I can practically smell the disdain rolling off of him.

He calls for the gates to open and they do, opening with a sound like distant thunder rolling through the mountain. I stare ahead to keep from gaping. The palace is beautiful—and terrifying. I stiffen in the saddle, inhaling deeply to remind myself that I am not afraid. But that’s the second lie that I’ve told myself today. The first is that I will leave Andell of my own accord—I know that I won’t.

Onyx notices my discomfort immediately, because of course he does. Does he have to notice everything?

“What is it?” He wears an expression of concern that I’m not used to seeing and it catches me off guard.

I force my fingers to release their death grip on Bromir’s reins. “Nothing I intend to discuss right now,” I say through gritted teeth. I don’t feel comfortable talking in this place, much less about what’s making me uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the guards eying me, some with disgust, some hungrily with what I hope I’m misinterpreting.

Onyx’s eyes narrow slightly but he doesn’t press the issue. Right then, Bromir tosses his head at the noise from within the outer court and Onyx raises his hand again, steadying the bridle before he can sidestep.