Page 158 of The Silversmith

Tears pooled to relieve the burning in my eyes. I wiped them away with the sleeves of my oversized sweater and straightened my shoulders. No more tears. I couldn’t afford them. I had to stay strong for me, for my people. Even for him.

“You’re not weak for weeping over him.” The battle must have raged clearly on my face, as Damond gently lowered my sleeve from my eyes and squeezed my hand. “Gods know that man has shed four centuries’ worth of tears for you.”

My blurry gaze landed on that letter. Four hundred years.

The least I could do was read it.

Damond embraced me where I sat and gently squeezed. “Do you want me to stay?”

I shook my head, eyes locked on the paper. “No. I should read it alone.”

One more squeeze and Damond turned toward the cabin’s front door. I listened to the thump of his boots and—

“Damond?” I rushed out.

He turned back to me, hand on the doorknob.

I worked my throat through a swallow. “Would you forgive him for what he’s done?”

His lips pulled into a tight line, then a knowing grin. He nodded. “I have forgiven him.” In response to my furrowed brow, he continued. “My parents—descendants of Smyth’s uncle on his mother’s side—were spies for the Wintertons. They tried to infiltrate a band of Insidions and were discovered. They got away and ran, but Molochai gave Smyth the order to track them down and kill them. I was ten years old. He made sure I didn’t see it happen, and after he killed them, he found a family in Tovick to take me in. When I turned eighteen, he bought me my pub. He’s looked out for me ever since.” Sadness glistened in my friend’s brown eyes. “He’s never had much family without you. And my parents… well, he knew them. They were his friends.”

Nausea and grief churned in my stomach. His friends. He had been forced to kill his friends, and if Damond had been able to forgive him for killing his parents when he was a child… I shuddered.

I thought of my friends. Gemma, Ezra, Finn, Caz, Damond. If I lost control of my body and had to kill them—had to witness myself killing them, fully aware of the horror but unable to stop myself… how would I go on? How had he persevered through the nightmare that was his life?

I sucked in a breath, remembering he’d told me.

“I hold on to the first good thing I can think of… Lately, that’s been you. Safe, warm, fed, happy. And you, Ella… you pull me out of my nightmares and return me to my dreams.”

Air. I needed air. I grabbed the letter and burst through the front door, loyal Shera at my heels. I looked around, but Damond was nowhere to be found, most likely having guessed I would need solitude and fresh air to get through what I was about to read.

I opened the letter and forced a steady breath.

Aryella,

There is no greater truth to my existence than my love for you. You are the best part of me.

Please fight. Not for me, not for them, but for yourself. Fight for the life you want, not the life Simeon has forced you into. I taught you the basics in our short time together—breathing, balance, how to throw a punch and wield a dagger. I hate that it was all we had time for, but I know you love reading, so I’ve prepared you a volume of tomes with maneuvers, strategy, everything you need to become lethal. They are in the Brinnea cabin. Study them. Memorize it all. Practice, hone the skills, ask Damond for help if you need it. Take the time to test your abilities. Earth, wind, water, ice, fire, healing—I thought I’d seen them all, but there are more. You have no limits.

Damond will not betray you, but he also knows you’ll have to go to those Caves eventually. As much as I wish to keep you from all of it, I know you can’t rest when people are suffering. It’s one of the infinitely beautiful things about you. It will be his goal to get you there once you’re healed. But if you’re not ready, do not go. Do not play into their hands. Don’t give them what they don’t deserve, because they sure as hell don’t deserve you. Do what you need to survive and trust your instincts. If you think something is a trap, it probably is. Cover your tracks and run like hell. Hide in plain sight. You’ll figure out how. Protect yourself at all costs, and when you swing your fist or your blade, don’t you miss. Just like I taught you.

Be the queen you want to be. I promise, they will love you. It’s impossible not to love you. You, my sweet love, are more than enough.

This blood oath and the danger it poses to you is the only thing keeping me away. Molochai knows by now—from the life and power he failed to take from you a second time—that he will need to find another way. That he cannot kill you with a blade. But that doesn’t mean he won’t try to use me to hurt you. So as soon as you are healed, leave Brinnea. Until the oath is broken, I don’t want to know where you are.

I will free myself from Molochai one way or another, and as long as I am living, I will come back to you. I will be there for you however you will have me. But do not be mistaken… should I be freed, I will fight for your heart. I won it once, and I have every intention of winning it again.

I love you. You are a miracle too great for this world, with or without your powers.

Let no one convince you otherwise.

Gavin

P.S. I know you were eager to learn the meaning behind my tattoos. The tally marks are not kills, but years. Four hundred and two. One for every year I’ve lived without you.

Between my trembling hands and salty tears, the ink on the paper in my hands was barely legible. It didn’t matter. I had already stored his words in my heart.

Dusk’s sun peeked from behind the heavy winter clouds and glistened on the ocean—blinding in spots, even through the blur of my tears. Just like the hope in my reborn heart. Blinding, too much to process, but persistent.