Page 107 of A Broken Blade

“Damien made the decision,” I continued when I caught my breath. “And then carved that mark in my back so I would always remember I was the one who lived, while Brenna was the one who paid the price. She was the cost of my loyalty to the Crown.” I slumped back in the chair. I was tired, but also relieved. Brenna was no longer a ghost between us, one only I could see. She was no longer forgotten or ignored. I had breathed life back into the memory of her with my words and found that I felt better. Lighter.

Alive.

Riven’s body was stiff and his breathing had stopped. The only hint of life was the warmth of his fingers still holding my hand.

“If you ever get the chance, kill him,” he said through clenched teeth, his voice dark and dangerous. “And if you can’t, I’ll kill him for you.” His eyes narrowed to violet slits, the feral look returning to his face.

“I carved her name because of that,” I said, tracing the scars again. “The way Damien scarred me... He said it was an homage to the scars the Fae and Elven warriors would wear. Like Syrra’s... Hers are a mark of her power and skill. But he made mine into something cruel.” I traced my hand along Riven’s skin, enjoying his warmth under my touch.

“He left the mage pen he used behind. I took it. I didn’t want his scars to define me. So I cut her name into my sword arm and told myself it would be the arm that struck Prince Damien down.” My voice cracked again. “It was a reminder that I wouldn’t be the Shade they thought I was... I would be a warrior, like the Elves who came before me. I carved the names into my skin as a tribute to them, reclaiming that part of me that was lost. Stamped out by the king. Brenna’s name was the first. A way to keep her and my promise alive.”

“You have,” Riven said, squeezing my hand. His jaw pulsed as he laid a gentle caress along my cheek. “You have kept her alive. And you will see your oath through, Keera. I know you don’t make promises, but I will make one to you. As long as I live, I will work to take down the king. For the Halflings, for Elverath... and for Brenna.” His eyes stormed as they pierced through me. He squeezed my hand and a tear rolled down my cheek. I knew he meant every word of his promise. And that he knew what those words meant to me.

RIVEN LEFT ME ALONEso I could bathe in our room. I soaked in the hot water until my skin wrinkled, covering myself in suds from the soap Riven had bought me. When I was done, I studied myself in the mirror. There was no sign that just a few days before I had been on the brink of death. Just the opposite. I looked to be the picture of health. The redness around my eyes from nights drinking and morning hangovers had faded along with the dark circles. My hair was soft and bright against the candlelight. I looked better than I had in years. Felt more alive than I ever remembered feeling. My body was stronger too. I had definition along my arms and legs again that had disappeared decades ago. I was sturdier. I breathed easier.

Because I finally have something to live for, I thought. It was true. Going after the king gave me the purpose I had been missing. The purpose I had left behind and tried to forget. All the years I’d spent running away from my demons had almost killed me. Facing them head-on might prove to kill me too, but at least I would feel like a person while I did it.

Even my scars looked better. The scars along my back weren’t red or swollen and no longer hurt to touch. Rheih’s bandages must have healed some underlying infection. Had I been carrying poison under my skin for three decades? It didn’t shock me. For two of those decades, I had been actively poisoning myself.

I always thought the pain of those scars was my punishment. What I deserved for what Damien did to her. But now, I wondered if it was my unwillingness to let go. Like the pain kept Brenna alive somehow, kept me thinking of her always. As if I wouldn’t remember her until my last breath.

I riffled through my saddlebag looking for a hairbrush. I found it, along with the nightgown that I usually wore on missions. For weeks, I’d been sleeping in my clothes to keep my scars a secret, but that was pointless now.

I put on the nightgown. It hung over my chest from two thin straps that slid down the back and met again just above my tailbone. The edges were lined with a soft lace that complemented the deep red of the garment. I had purchased several from a tailor in Koratha. They were the only sleeping style that didn’t itch my scars.

I heard Riven return and close the door. He walked past the bath without glancing in and set his bag on the desk. I was suddenly nervous to leave the small room. I thought about braiding my hair to stall myself, but I liked the way it had dried in soft waves that floated along my waist. If I was determined not to hide myself anymore, then I didn’t need to keep my hair pinned back.

Riven leaned against the desk, both of his hands gripping the edge. He wasn’t looking at me, but the floor. Pondering something. I closed the bathroom door with a quiet snap of the latch. He looked up at me and I caught my breath.

His eyes were a scorching violet that radiated from under his dark brow. The entire room was lit by a single lantern, casting a warm glow against his skin. I followed the path of the shadows down his neck to where his tunic was slightly open.

I swallowed as a flush of heat ran through me, building at the crest of my thighs. I hadn’t felt like this in so long.

I hadn’t beenlookedat like this in so long.

Riven wasn’t just looking at me, he was devouring me. His gaze trailed along my legs, pausing at the hem of my nightgown before moving upward toward my neck. He somehow looked at my scars in a way that didn’t feel like he was noticingthem, but me. He was seeing all of me, all at once, and couldn’t turn away.

I took a step toward him. A strand of my hair fell in front of my face.

His grip tightened on the desk, and the scent of birchwood and dew crashed through the room. I thought the smell was intoxicating but Riven looked like he wasn’t breathing at all.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

Riven shut his eyes, still gripping the desk.

“I have another question for you.” His voice a hoarse rasp.

I took another step forward. “What is it?”

We were in arm’s reach of each other.

“You’ve never taken another lover, have you?” His jaw throbbed and his grip on the desk was so tight that his knuckles bulged. Like he was trying to restrain himself. But there was understanding in his eyes. What it had meant for me to tell him about Brenna, for him to see my scars. It wasn’t something I had let anyone do before.

It felt hard to breathe. “No.”

“If you were... to take another”—his voice was a rough whisper now—“would they be anotherikwenira? Or a woman?”

I blinked in shock from the question. I had never thought of that before. There had only ever been Brenna. Nothing else had mattered.

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