Page 275 of The Edge of Darkness

They both went quiet again, leaving us to witness all the hurt, the questions that had gone unanswered, the not knowing, and the time lost.

“We couldn’t, Rem. We spent nearly a fortnight debating what her message meant, trying to figure out what to do. But we knew for certain that you—being the silver-haired one—had to be spared. And I”—he pointed to his own hair—“had to be the one to end it for the others.”

“They still had purpose!” Remic yelled. “The cowards just chose to listen to a fucking seer instead of living it out.” He took a step back, shaking his head. “How could you do that? How did you, out of everyone else, have the gall?”

Saxon held up his hands. “I didn’t want to, if that’s what you think! I didn’t want any part of it, but they begged me! They’d already convinced themselves that it was over! They gave up hope! And fates, I tried my best to talk them out of it, but nothing worked. You saw them at the end. You remember how miserable they had become. I had no other choice.”

“So you did as they wished, and then you just disappeared and left me to piece things together.”

“I couldn’t bear to face you after that. I knew what it would do to you.”

“Did you? You know I found them, right? All of them! Found their bodies staked through the heart at the bottom of the sea!”

Saxon’s eyes widened, his face blanching with panic and regret, as if he truly hadn’t known or hadn’t expected that to happen.

“If you knew I had to survive, then why the fuck did you leave them where they would be so easy for me to find?” Without waiting for an answer, Remic spun and exited the tent.

Saxon let out a long sigh, then left the tent as well.

“Damn,” Roirdan said under his breath. “That was rough to witness.”

“I was not aware of his backstory,” Weston said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “He showed up at the castle grounds after the attack at the northern border, glamoured as a soldier. I’m the one who receives all incoming troops into the castle, so when I sensed him at the gates, I knew exactly what he was. He told me he wanted to fight for the queen in whatever was about to happen. I thought it was just part of his summons, or that maybe the fates had sent him for a reason we did not yet know.”

“To be in the right place at the right time,” Auren said, piecing things together for all of us.

Weston gestured toward her shirt, to the wounds that had been beneath it. “He did save you from Skadi’s first swipe, which ultimately gave you enough warning to not get the full brunt of the second.”

I immediately felt the darkness in me stir at the thought of Auren being harmed.

Roirdan crossed his arms, clearly perplexed. “So, who is he here for?”

I pushed out a breath. “Me, believe it or not.”

“No fucking way. You have a Dionach? Aren’t you supposed to be an ‘all powerful High Lord’ or something⁠—”

Auren smacked his arm. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have one.”

“I don’t need one,” Roirdan said, shoving his elbow into her. “I’m way too powerful as it is.”

Auren snorted.

The mood in the tent shifted, and thank the gods for it because I was starting to get overwhelmed.

“So powerful that I had to commune with the gods to save you,” Auren reminded him. “You might as well call me your Dionach.”

“While I am eternally grateful for that, I can’t have someone as small as you protecting me. It’s simply not logical.”

Silas chuckled, earning a look from Auren.

She crossed her arms. “Oh, so you’re on his side of this?”

He shrugged. “He has a point.”

Roirdan suddenly noticed Breck’s freshly-inked shroud and pointed at it. “How did you get that wicked thing?”

“Saving her,” Breck answered with a grin, knowingly adding fuel to the playful fire they had all started against Auren.

Roirdan feigned surprise. “Well, would you look at that!”