Page 33

“Anything?” drifted a voice. It was Kerem.

Idonea tried to pry Lysander’s fingers off her mouth, but he wouldn’t budge. No amount of movement shook him off.

“Nay, sir,” was the response. “Whoever it was must know a different path.”

“Wait,” said Kerem. “Is that a horse?”

In a last-ditch effort, Idonea rammed her elbow into Lysander’s side, but under the noise of the propellers, his surprised grunt was lost.

The ship flew away, chasing the decoy. When the sound faded, Lysander released her.

“You should’ve let them take me,” Idonea said, wiping the dirt from her hands onto the skirt, though the cuffs made it hard. If the Crows found her, she could’ve pleaded her case with Safira to hunt down the daemon. She might've freed herself from the Severant, and the other Templars.

Lysander shook his head. “You’re safer with me.”

Idonea held out her cuffed wrists. “Doesn’t feel safer.”

Lysander’s eyes met hers, seconds ticked by in strained silence. Then he stepped closer and released the cuffs. The metal fell away.

He turned to the lone remaining horse and tightened the saddle. Idonea followed, rubbing her wrists.

She swallowed. “I’ll walk.”

“No.” Lysander patted the saddle, then cinched it tighter, the leather groaning beneath his grip. “Up you come.” The gelding snorted.

Her head tilted. “You’re asking for trouble.”

Lysander didn’t respond, his expression unchanging.

She stopped beside the horse, brushing her fingers along the horn. “You’ll let me sit behind you? You trust me that much?”

He met her gaze, cold and unreadable. “You’re not.”

Her brows lifted, a soft laugh escaping her. “You trust me with the reins?”

“I’m not giving you the reins.”

She mounted the horse, sliding into the saddle with an ease that came after days of practice. Idonea settled into place, back straight and head turned, waiting.

Lysander mounted behind her. The saddle was built for one, leaving no room for modest distance. His chest pressed against her back; his legs bracketed hers. His left arm snaked around her middle, while his right took hold of the reins. Heat spread immediately through every place he touched. Her body relaxed before her mind approved.

“You should let me walk.” Idonea tried to pull forward to create distance between them, but his arm only tightened.

Lance darted out of some trees, his wings fluttering while he paused near her head. She gave him a nod.

Idonea tilted her head towards Lysander, not quite turning. Her voice a murmur. “Careful, Severant. Sit too close, and you might forget what I am.”

Lysander leaned in, lips near her ear. “Never fear, witchling. That won’t happen.”

The horse moved forward with a nudge of his heel, hooves clicking against the frost-bitten earth. Wind sighed through the branches.

They rode in silence for a time, save for the gelding’s gait and the distant rustle of wind. Idonea’s breath misted in the air.

“How many daemons have you hunted?” she asked.

Lysander didn’t answer. The only sound was his heartbeat against her spine. He was a fortress, and yet his grip on the reins was relaxed.

“You know,” she went on, a smile curling her lips, “you keep pretending you’re not afraid of me, but you used those cuffs awfully quick.”