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Easy.
My bladder filled to bursting.
Pulling in a deep breath, I stepped back a step. Two. Five. Ten steps. That should be enough.
With a burst of determination, I lunged forward, breaking into a run—fast, faster, harder—every thump of my heart echoing in my ears, drowning out the cacophony of the waves below. The edge grew nearer, nearer—
Terror surged through me.
My boots skidded to a halt, but the momentum was too much. I slipped, my balance lost. I hit the ground. My breath whooshed out of me as I slid over the edge.
“No!” I shouted, reaching out, fingers scrabbling at the snow and ice.
They found purchase on a jutting outcrop of rock. Clinging with the strength of desperation, I hung there, my legs kicking over the gaping maw of the ocean in search of hold. A jutting boulder, a branch, or— There! My heart hammered in my chest as my toes found something solid, my ears pricking at… wingbeats?
Now they were gone.
Soles crunching over grit and snow replaced the sound, each slow, deliberate step inching toward me, driving up my pulse, making me call out, “Help!”
Black boots stepped into my vision, stopping less than an inch from my white-knuckled fingers. “Whatever are you trying to achieve here, my little white dove?”
The hair along my nape rose at the sound of the pet name. I wasn’t a white dove and, by the seven hells and all the gods out there, I most definitely wasn’this.But then again, apparently, I wasn’t an unkindness of ravens, either…
Against the pride stiffening my neck and the hate heating my veins, I looked up at Malyr. “Trying to get away from you. Now help me!”
Of course, Malyr just stood there, as if I wasn’t an inch of slippage away from falling, crossing his arms in front of his black cuirass, the leather embossed with silver vines and thorns that matched his vicious personality perfectly. He stared at me for painful, muscle-searing seconds before he smacked his lips, leaned over, and clasped my wrist. In a combined effort, with my feet treading at the stone and my other hand bracing the edge, he pulled me up and against him.
I slammed into his strong chest, the scent puffing off him carrying the familiar notes of lemongrass that were as reassuring as they were painful—a treacherous mixture of comfort and chaos that scrambled my thoughts, trying to lull me with memories best forgotten.
None of it had been real.
Yanking my wrist from his hold, I swept around him and brought several feet of distance between us. “You were in my room last night.”
“I once warned you not to leave your window open.” Malyr shrugged and took a slow step toward me, his windswept black hair shifting in the breeze the way his black cloak did. “You found my gift, I take it?”
I lifted my chin and stared him dead in the eyes. “Found it, burned it.”
“Ah.” His gaze hardened with another calculated step in my direction. “How unfortunate, given how we plucked our finest-looking feather for you. And here I thought you were fond of ribbons.”
“Oh, I am,” I said, shifting my balance back, not liking how he slowly prowled up on me, weaving tingles of caution through my muscles. “I’m just not fond of you.”
“Mmm, little white dove, you ought to leave the lying to me.” His taunting smirk curled with such smugness, it made my molars grind together. “I daresay there was a great deal offondnessin the way you moaned my name the last time I had you beneath me. How else could I have gotten your delicious tears, hmm?”
“Because you betrayed me!” Anger flared, creeping along my cheeks until they itched. Because I’d foolishly believed him, though I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “I should have listened to Sebian. He warned me not to trust you.”
Malyr’s smirk disappeared beneath the flexing of his jaw, and I only now noticed the greenish bruises under his freshly-shaven skin along one side, the cut above his eye. “I betrayed who I thought was a Brisden.”
Oh, and that set everything right?
Rationally, yes, I understood why he’d done it, but understanding didn’t equate to forgiveness. How could it, if it did nothing to mend the lingering pain? He’d shattered me, leaving me to pick up the fragments of my soul, my heart…
…my very identity!
“Who you thought I was doesn’t unbreak me.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but laced with an intensity that mirrored my rage. “Who you thought I was doesn’t make me unsee what you revealed to be.”
“And what would that be, hmm? What am I, Galantia?”
“A heartless bastard who knows nothing but hate.”
