Page 101 of A Broken Blade


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I nodded, overwhelmed that he had noticed the pattern so quickly. “I cut them like—”

“Elven armor,” he finished for me. My stomach lurched when I realized that he wasn’t looking at me in disgust but wonder. He took a step closer, so our bodies were only a breath apart. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on my shoulder. My chest split open at the sincerity of his words. He saw the scars. He knew the meaning behind them. And still he found beauty in the darkness of it, in my lightandmy shadows.

Riven’s hand caressed the length of my arm, casting shivers across my skin. My breath caught when he grabbed my right wrist.

“And this?” He lifted my hand so the name on my forearm was pulled into the torchlight. My body stiffened as Riven’s eyes traced the lines along my arm.

I pulled myself out of his grasp and turned toward the chair.

“Some names are bigger than others,” I answered, before scooping up the clothes, leaving him alone in the dark.

It must have been the middle of the night because I found everyone asleep in a small cavern lying on their cots. I didn’t wait for Riven to follow me in, so I grabbed a cot and found a different room.

My head was spinning with thoughts so fast I could barely grab them. So many lives, so many stories in which I was the villain. Each of them written on my skin. I wouldn’t be able to repay those debts in a thousand lifetimes.

But now I was doing something about it.

I’d been prepared to die. Thrusting my body toward those explosives, I knew that someone would carry out the rest of the plan. Riven. He would take down the Crown even if I couldn’t.

How long had I wanted just that? And now it was in my grasp.

I traced the name on my arm. My head full of memories of her. The vow we had made so long ago. The one I had tried so hard to forget.

One person was not enough to break the Crown. But now, it was more than just me.

Somehow, I had found myself surrounded by the people I needed. Maybe even people who were my friends. I felt that usual hardness pulling itself around me, reminding me to keep everyone out. To keep me safe.

Keep them safe.

But people died regardless. I didn’t save any more lives by closing myself off. If anything, I had only caused more death. Maybe there was a path forward where I could let some people in and still keep my vow. But I would have to be strong enough to do it.

Revealing my scars had been a step. The flashes of faces and names that constantly played across my mind were changing. Still there, but somehow friendlier. As if they too realized that I would avenge them.

That their memory had been shared, instead of just saved.

A tear ran down my cheek. Maybe that’s what I had needed all along—to share the weight of them. If only so I could get the job done.

IHAD FALLEN ASLEEPjust as light began to pour in from above, thin rays slipping through the cracks in the roof of the cave, casting golden hues along the floor. It was like seeing stars made of daylight. It made the rocky abode feel much more comfortable.

Someone placed a mug of hot tea in front of where I sat, asleep in a chair. I woke with a start and saw the healer looking down at me with her piercing yellow eyes.

“You heal fast,” she said, stirring her drink with a twig.

“Thank you for helping me,” I said, taking a sip of the tea. It tasted of cedarwood and lemon, a healing elixir.

The woman nodded. She had a curved body that once was tall, but now slumped with age. Her face was creased and weathered, but her eyes were observant, watching every flicker in my face. Her hair was braided down her back, entirely gray except for the ends that faded into a dark brown. Her hands were strong, but her fingers were beginning to bend in different directions, her knuckles swollen from gout. The lines in them looked gray compared to the tan of her skin.

She was very old for a Mortal.

“Yet not as old as you,” she said, as if reading my thoughts.

“Excuse me?” I asked, brows knitting together. I was only a few years past sixty, she had at least two decades on me. “I have only lived sixty-eight turns.”

“Have you?” she asked, yellow eyes narrowing.

I shook my head. “I think I would know.” I was grateful that this woman saved my life, but she was obviously losing her senses in her old age.

“Rheih, I hope you aren’t bothering Keera. The poorikwenirajust woke up.” Nikolai chuckled from the opening in the cavern wall. He smiled at me so wide that his cheeks pinched his eyes. He was leaning on a walking crutch, his leg wrapped in a splint.

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