Page 104 of Bride of Ash & Dust

Her breath catches. The stream chatters as it rushes past us. I close my eyes and breathe her in, that faint trace of floral perfume, and the stronger, deeper scent of her.

“Will it— Will it ever go away?” she gasps. “I close my eyes, and⁠—”

Her voice chokes off, and she starts to shiver.

I think of the young man from Lisal, the one the guards found dead during the Conference of the Seven Allied Kingdoms all those years ago. The way he looked at me when he turned around, with my dagger buried between his ribs. The surprise on his face.

Malrik hadn’t asked me to kill him, of course. At least, not directly. But I was moved to my current luxurious room after his body was discovered, and a few days later, the king gave me my first title, naming me a squire, although I’d never once assisted a knight.

I beamed as I accepted the squire’s ribbon. I hadn’t been able to sleep in days; every time I closed my eyes, the man from Lisal would meet me with that look of surprise as blood leaked from the corners of his mouth.

I’d gotten blackout drunk that night, and I might have stayed that way for days if Petrys hadn’t found me and dragged the truth out of me. By then, he’d been in Malrik’s army for three years.

“No,” I whisper, repeating the words Petrys told me years ago. “It never goes away. But you’ll learn how to carry it.”

Her breath is soft and warm against my throat. A tiny bird sings from the trees above us, something long and complicated, then stops to rest. The woods fill with the chatter of the stream, and then the bird calls again, a lilting melody, up and down, up and down, filling the whole world with song. I run my hand along my wife’s back as sunlight falls all around us, two murderers with an ocean of blood on our hands and a stolen horse.

And I wonder if Petrys was right, if I have learned to carry it. Or if that, like everything else in my life, is just another lie.

My wife shivers again, and I help her to her feet. Water climbed the side of her dress as we sat together on the edge of the stream, turning the once-fine fabric even darker. Together, we stagger up the riverbank. I lie down in the grass, my head against the saddle, as she pulls the wet dress over her head and hangs it on a low branch. I close my eyes to stop staring at her tight silk bodice or the hard pebbles of her nipples, and I’m only dimly aware of the soft weight of her body settling next to me before sleep pulls me under.

Chapter 57

Lilias

UNMISTAKABLY ROYAL

My eyes blink open slowly, and I shake my head. The world feels like it’s been wrapped in gauze. Thick, golden sunlight filters through the leaves above me, birds chatter in their secret musical languages, and for a moment, I wonder how I managed to fall asleep in the palace gardens.

But this isn’t the palace gardens. I frown, then try to sit up. The thin slip I’m wearing is damp and heavy, and the trees around me don’t look like they have ever met a gardener.

The world comes back to me slowly. Tents in the mountains. Rope around my wrists. Galloping away from the men who led me west, finding the mine⁠—

My gut clenches like a fist. I close my eyes, but it’s no good. All I can see is Prince Syvan, blood pouring from his lips, his eyes burning with rage.

I stagger to my feet, limp into the bushes, and vomit. It’s thin and acrid, hardly more than water. I sink to my knees, then wipe my face with my sleeve.

You learn to carry it, Zarek told me last night. Dimly, I wonder if that’s true.

I rise slowly, feeling weak and shaky. The sun has already sunk behind the trees, turning the air golden. The white stallion looks almost like a ghost as he grazes against the deep shadows of the woods. He was such a nervous thing on our journey; I half expected him to run as soon as I took off his halter. It’s strange to see him now, cropping the fresh grass at the edge of the stream, acting for all the world like a regular, confident stallion.

The knot in my chest loosens somewhat, and I walk slowly toward the horse, talking to him under my breath. He lifts his head and swivels his ears toward me as I approach. I’m expecting him to shy away, but he just watches me. I hold out my hand, although I have nothing to offer, and he takes a few steps closer, his nostrils flaring.

“It’s okay,” I tell him in a low whisper. “You’re okay. No one is going to hurt you. Not ever again.”

He snorts and turns back to his grass. I wrap my arms around my chest and watch him as the shadows swell beneath the trees. He’s favoring his left hind leg slightly, which worries me. I had hoped Zarek would be able to ride him.

With that thought, I turn to the stallion’s saddle and the still, silent figure curled beside it. The man I married. The snake of Vsenrog.

I hold my breath as I approach him, although I can’t quite say why. He’s turned away from me, with his bruised eye resting on his hand and his lips slightly parted. His dark hair curls around his pale neck. From this angle, the only evidence that Prince Syvan ever laid a hand on him is the thin split down his bottom lip. I inhale, and my breath catches.

Gods above, he’s beautiful. He looks more like a prince than Syvan, some inane part of my mind whispers. Hells, he looks more like a prince than the portraits I’ve seen of Prince Laurance, the heir to Ethiria, whom I was supposed to marry. Even here, curled on the forest floor in just a ragged pair of pants, Zarek is unmistakably royal.

I crouch down, reach for his shoulder, then hesitate. Warmth flickers inside my core, and my eyes trace his long, talented fingers, remembering what he did to me while the soldiers waited outside the door. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the rush of heat between my legs.

We should get moving. I’m not sure if I can find the old hunting cabin in the light, let alone after darkness falls. Besides, someone will come looking for us, won’t they?

But Zarek needs to rest. He’s injured, and he fell while we were trying to walk down the stream. We probably should have stopped well before then. Gods, what if he’s hurt somewhere on the inside? What if he’s carrying a secret injury I can’t see, something that could kill him?