Page 90 of The Reaping Rose

Peace.

This might be the last taste of it with the battle we’re sure to face, so I breathe it in a moment longer.

When I open my eyes, I find Atlas quietly staring out at the territory. He said nothing about me stopping. He simply paused at my side and took it in. Knowing he’s a warrior himself, I wonder if it’s something he picked up on the front lines as I did. When blood and death stain every sunset, there’s appreciation to be found in the breaking of a new day. In surviving the last one.

His purple gaze meets mine, and I look away. I shouldn’t be wondering what Atlas has done or what he believes. He’s a warrior who fought without mercy, spilling blood in my realm. He’s not my ally, even if I’m forced to rely on him for this particular mission.

When this is done, we’ll still be enemies.

The horseback ride into Solace is long and quiet. I refuse to keep up conversation, no matter how many times Atlas tries. He’s not nearly as guarded as I’d expect from someone I’m sure is an instrument in battle.

I’d know.

In my heart, I’m the same.

My mother might have wanted me to be like my aunt, safe in the temples, focusing my magic on messages from the fates. But the blood of my father always coursed stronger through my veins.

I’m a fighter.

So when they were murdered, that’s what I became. The blade on which others bleed.

My eyes cut to Atlas, who is more often than not watching me. Assessing me. Reading me.

Thankfully, he at least keeps his magic to himself. Not a lick of flame heats the edge of my thoughts.

I tug at my leathers, which grow sticky and hot the farther we travel through the Solace desert, relieved when we finally cross the barrier that prevents us from opening a Gate into the city.

Atlas climbs off his horse first, and I refuse his help in getting off mine. He holds up his palm to form a Gate for us to skip the rest of the terrain and step directly into Lochlan’s manor. A spark of flame swirls, tearing the air open to create a doorway. It’s convenient that his magic allows him to do as much, even if it means I’m stuck at Atlas’s side for this mission.

“After you.” He steps back, grinning so wide his violet eyes sparkle.

It’s distracting, and it makes me hate him even more. His smile draws out the strong lines of his jaw, especially with his dark-red hair pulled off his face.

I’m annoyed he’s so much taller than me. Broader. His thick arms are on display in his sleeveless battle gear, and it’s nothing but distracting because it won’t protect him in a fight. Even so, I find myself staring for just a beat as warmth climbs my cheeks.

It’s been too long since I bedded someone—since the last time I was here, and I let the haelmarrow and a gorgeous willing male take my worries away for the night. That’s the only explanation for why I can’t stop staring at Atlas and his aggravating smile.

Maybe tonight I’ll drag someone to my bed and let them work out this tension before I do something I’ll regret.

Without saying a word to Atlas, I step past him and through the Gate.

For a moment, I’m in between the hot, flat desert and the breeze of the balcony. A dance of flame hugs my senses, searing my tongue and warming me through to the bone. The space feels like Atlas, so I take my second step quickly, trying to shake it.

“I see the king is already too busy to come see me himself.” Lochlan lifts off the pillar and walks toward us once we’re through the Gate.

His perfectly sculpted pale skin is on display with his flowing pants hanging low at his hips. A separate sheet of sheer fabric is strewn over one shoulder. Lochlan grins, but it’s made more menacing by the dark fangs that cut down his face. Two long runes run from his hairline, through his eyebrows, over his lids, and to his cheek. His long white hair is half tied back, casual as always.

Lochlan is secretive. Cunning. Deadly. Even when I was part of Malachi’s Guard, I wasn’t sure what to make of him.

“Wilder sent only the best in his place.” Atlas smiles.

Lochlan’s eyes move to me. “That he did.”

We shake hands in greeting, but Atlas pulls him in for a hug. They’re clearly closer than I am to Lochlan. In truth, I hardly know him. As the longest-standing lord in Lyrichia, he’s always carefully toed the line between realms. Only recently did he swear his faith to Malachi, and that was under threat of execution. Our welcome is proof he continues to secretly play both sides.

Lochlan is a lot like Elorie, wishing for peace between our realms. Believing it’s possible.

I respect it, but I don’t see it happening.