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“You didn’t cut them, did you?” Riven asked, his voice turning hard, but the hand stroking my back was as soft as ever.
“No,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “They’re from my Trials. It’s the symbol of my most impressive test.”
Riven took a deep breath, understanding starting to register on his face. “Aren’t they usually given as tattoos?” he asked. The hand on my back stilled and his breath stopped in his chest. I could feel his heartbeat rising as he waited for me to answer.
“Usually,” I said, turning my head toward the rafters. “But my Trial was different than most. It was thought that a different kind of marking was needed.”
“Thought by whom?” Riven’s hand grasped my waist. His voice was ice, hard and close to shattering.
I plucked a loose thread from his tunic, avoiding his gaze as I answered. “That would be the prince.”
Riven’s chest heaved under me. The hand on my waist clenched, catching part of my tunic with it. The shadows in the cabin started to swirl along the candlelight. The air tasted tangy against my tongue. Riven’s eyes were feral. I lifted a hand to his face, caressing his cheek, bringing him back to me and away from whatever images filled his mind.
“It was a long time ago,” I reminded him. The scars were the least gruesome part of that tale.
“Why would Damien do such a thing?” Riven asked, stroking my back again.
“He said it was a lesson,” I answered, echoing the words the prince had whispered over and over again as he cut my back.
Poison coated Riven’s voice. “What kind of lesson?”
“One I never learned,” I said, pulling myself up into the crook of Riven’s neck and closing my eyes. Riven’s arm stayed wrapped around me as I slept, keeping the nightmares at bay.
THE OLD MAN DROPPEDus off outside of a village, only a day’s ride from the capital. The suns were too high in the sky to start the journey by the time we disembarked the barge. The wood creaked under my feet as Riven jumped off first. He landed on the floating dock with an easy grace, not bothering to hold out his arm for me. He knew I could manage.
Down the river was a set of rapids blocked by pieces of broken wood and chunks of earth that floated downstream in the floods. It would take weeks to clear. Even then, there was no way for barges to cross now that the walls of the canal had washed away. No ship could sail over the sharp rocks and steep falls. All trade into the capital would have to happen on horseback. In a few weeks, the first snows would fall, and trading would slow almost to a stop.
Just like we had wanted.
We walked through the tiny town, hoods drawn over our faces, but the streets were empty. Almost everyone had run to the capital as soon as the floods came, seeking out stores and rations before winter. My stomach churned seeing the elderly and children left behind. How many of them would survive? I doubted the king would make feeding the hungry a priority now. The truth of that tasted bitter in my mouth. I knew we would save more people in the end, but it didn’t make sacrificing the few any easier.
We found food and board at an old tavern. A shutter along the front of it was loose, laying crooked on one hinge. We sat at a table near the hearth, the dust caked along the edge from lack of use.
There was no one else in the tavern besides an old Mortal who had fallen asleep in his chair, hair spilling into the bits of food left on his plate. The innkeeper’s daughter only came out to bring our meals. I could hear her giggling with the kitchen staff behind the set of swinging doors.
If there were any other guests, they were gone or in their rooms.
Riven and I ate in an easy silence. The stillness before we ventured into the capital. If we managed to breech its walls at all. I set down the last of my duck bones and wiped my fingers on the cloth napkin beside my chipped plate. Riven took a sip of his wine. I could smell the robust aroma of oak and berries but refused my own. I sipped from a goblet of water instead.
I watched Riven finish his meal. He cut the lamb steak into perfect pieces before savoring each bite. “Glad it’s not rabbit?” I asked with a smirk. Riven nodded, swallowing his laugh with another bite.
The fire was hot beside us. I’d already taken my cloak off, but even without its weight, sweat pooled along my skin. I scanned the room, making sure we were alone, and rolled up my sleeves. The longest flames of scars peeked past the rolled sleeve, too small for anyone to notice. The only scar that was completely visible was the name etched along my forearm. My fingers traced over it again and again as Riven ate.
Riven swallowed the last of his lamb and set down his fork. His eyes followed my fingers.
“Was that the first name?” he asked gently. I knew it was a question he didn’t expect an answer to. One he wouldn’t ask again if I didn’t want to speak of it.
But I did.
I’d been thinking of her so much lately it hurt, burning through my flesh like the scar was newly branded with every passing thought. Somehow, Riven seeing my scars had eased the pain of them. His acknowledgment had started to drain whatever poison I carried beneath my skin. Maybe telling him of her would ease that burden too.
“It was,” I answered after a moment. I traced the name once more.
“Whose name is it?” he asked in the same soft tone. Offering the same choice.
“Brenna,” I replied in a whisper that fought against my throat. I hadn’t said her name aloud since that day. The day I had carved it into my skin and vowed to fulfill our promise. “She was my roommate in the Order. We didn’t like each other much at first, but eventually we became friends, the best of friends... and then somethingmore.” My lips burned from saying her name, like opening a festering wound. It hurt, but it needed to be done.
Riven cleared his throat. “You were lovers?” His expression was hard, but I saw no judgment in his eyes.
