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I eyed the thin line of gold still visible across his forehead. “What use is that to us now?”
Killian lifted his chin, though his finger picked at his thumb along the leather rein. “There are still many that would hesitate to disobey a prince. That hesitation could save your life or mine.”
I gritted my teeth, but couldn’t argue his point. Especially since my powers had not fully recuperated.
The lights of the city were visible along the darkening horizon. The tall cliffs of Silstra and its ruined dam were lit like a beacon at all hours of the day.
“Aren’t you tired of putting on that mask?” I turned to face Killian only to find his eyes already on me.
He went so still he almost fell off his horse. “Mask?” he echoed, after realigning himself in the saddle.
I pointed at his hood with my chin. “Your crown.”
Killian’s stare hardened. He didn’t speak for a long while, but I could hear the thoughts swirling in his mind like water through a creek. “I never thought of my crown as a mask.” He rubbed the reins between his fingers as he spoke. “My crown is more like the red-hot sting of a brand. No matter where I am, regardless of whatever masks I wear, the mark of my birthright can neverbe expunged.” Killian’s voice was hoarse with guilt. The guilt of a Halfling who had been given so much, but felt as if he helped too little.
I knew that feeling well.
“But a legacy can be destroyed,” I whispered, recalling our conversation in the safe house of Koratha only a few short months before.
Killian swallowed. “Yes, but the cost is steep.” He stared at me without blinking, without breathing, locking me in some kind of trance. His jade eyes almost glowed underneath the last streaks of warmth in the sky.
My chest loosened as we watched each other. In some ways, Killian understood my past more than anyone. He had barely noticed my scars when he first saw them that night in the Singing Wood because he had his own scars too. No one left the kingdom unscathed, but especially the palace.
There was something comforting in knowing we had both gotten ourselves out of there, scars and brands be damned.
I gave Killian what I hoped was the genuine smile he deserved. “I believe you will live to start a new legacy.”
Killian’s throat bobbed at the words. His brows furrowed in disbelief and perhaps a little pain. When he spoke, his words were a harsh whisper. “I hope the same for you.” His lips kept moving as if he had something else to say, but he stopped himself.
That unsettling silence fell between us. The one that wrapped around us every time Killian’s eyes lingered too long on my lips.
I turned away, cutting through the silence with an exasperated sigh. “If they were here, we should have seen them by now. The portal’s about to close.” I nodded at the eastern horizon. Only the very top of the second sun was visible. We had been searching through the fields oflilthirasince we arrived, but Maerhal and Collin were nowhere to be found.
“Elaran and Gerarda must have them.” I nodded at his bag. “Write to them to confirm and then we can head north for the moonlit portal to return home.”
Killian reached for his bag. He pulled out the notebook just as an arrow struck the ground between our horses. Killian looked up at me but I was focused on the glass bulb that had shattered the moment the arrow hit the ground. Dark fumes rose from the broken glass and filled my nostrils with the scent ofwinvraand dew rose.
Killian pulled his cloak over his face, but it was no use. He reached out for me. “D—” he gasped before falling backward off his horse. I didn’t see him hit the ground. I coughed and then everything went white.
CHAPTERFORTY-FOUR
IWOKE IN A CHAIRwith my hands bound behind my back. A thick knot pulled along the skin of my wrists, the bindings so tight my fingertips were entirely numb. My vision was blurry but I could see that the floor was made of planked wood decorated in paint.
A fist collided with my jaw. I looked up and saw a beast of a man standing over me with one gray eye and one of pure black. A silver blade fastener hung at his neck, holding the long black cloak onto his broad shoulders.
“My father was so confident the day he named you Blade.” Damien sat in the middle of the room on a golden throne. He nodded up at the towering frame that took his position behind him. “Kairn is a great improvement. Brutalandloyal.”
The new Blade puffed his chest and smiled wickedly down at me. My own blood covered his fist but I felt no pain.
“But then again”—Damien straightened his back in his gilded chair—“my brother has always been a disappointment. I shouldn’t be surprised that is who he chose to align himself with.”
Damien kicked his foot and someone groaned. Killian was tied at his brother’s feet. His eyes were closed and his face was red with blood. My heart pounded in my chest as I squirmed against the bindings, but then I realized it was pointless.
“You’re not really here.” I snarled up at Damien.
He raised the brow over his tainted eye. “Neither are you.”
“You injected Collin with your elixir.” I stood from the chair, the bindings disappearing as my mind commanded of them. Damien wasn’t the only one who could control this dream. “You’ve been poisoning his mind?”
