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We were back in the Mist, in the silvery-white forest smothered with blue leaves. Wisps of fog drifted by.
Scrambling off me, her hand reaching for her dagger, Kiara surveyed the area, alert and ready for an attack. I’d been so lost in her I hadn’t even realized the change. That alone should have been a warning that I was in danger.
“I knew it was too good to last.” I sighed, hoisting myself to my feet and grabbing my discarded shirt. Thankfully it was dry, and I shrugged it on before slipping into my jacket.
It wasn’t shocking that we’d fallen asleep in one place only to wake in another. Not in this cursed place. It was a shame, though, for the glen held its own kind of enchantment, and a hint of…remembrance. Like a memory that was all hazy at the edges whenever I thought too hard on it.
“Lovely,” Kiara grumbled, sheathing her dagger. Her attention never left the trees. “Where do you think we are?”
“Probably in the same place, minus the glowing paradise.”
Kiara didn’t look too convinced.
“If anything, it was thegardenthat moved, not us,” I added. At least, I assumed that to be the case—but assumptions could, I knew, be dangerous. “Let’s head out and see what we can find.”
It was time to leave anyway. While the glen had been a pleasant reprieve, like a dream, reality couldn’t be ignored.
Kiara nodded, cracking her knuckles, her nose wrinkling as it so often did before a fight. The fierceness that overtook her features painted her as the warrior goddess I’d likened her to—
An otherworldly creature composed of lethal beauty.
She might be a petite thing, but I felt fairly confident with her at my side. Over the last few weeks, I’d witnessed her fight, and she could put many of my trained Knights to shame. If we ever got out of here alive, she would make a fine addition to them.
Instantly, my chest constricted. If we ever got out alive, and things went back to how they were—
Knights swore an oath to the kingdom. Not to each other.
This buddingthingof ours would have to stop. Even if I didn’t want it to anymore.
A large part of me seethed at the idea, but it would have to be done—once a Knight, death was the only escape. If the king caught us, if he found out what she meant to me…
Cirian wouldn’t give up his most prized assassin, and if he learned how much I cared for her, he’d use her to further control me. The idea of the king threatening her made me murderous, and I pictured his throat opening beneath my blade. The image had an oddly calming effect. Maybe I’d make it a reality.
Yesterday had been so easy. I’d never told a living soul the truth of my scars, not even Isiah. My fingers traced the golden pin on my jacket. I was grateful Kiara had taken it off his body. I’d been too pissed at the time to think of it myself.
The band around my chest grew painfully taut, stealing my air, my focus.
“Ready?” Kiara questioned, eager to get out of here. She was back to business, the gleam in her eyes dimmed to an ember.
I nodded, trailing behind as she took the lead, her steps heavy from sleep.
While the blue fog was still abundant, it wasn’t nearly as thick as before. That was either a good sign, or a very,verybad one.
Ever since I’d emerged from the Mist last year, not only a trained killer, but a traitor to my brothers, my thoughts continuously ventured back to this place.
Isiah often compared my left eye to the Mist, and in a way, he was right. When I gazed upon a person, I saw two sides of them—one solid, and the other a shadow. With both eyes open, I could see them clearly enough, although they were surrounded by wisps of white and the lightest blue.
It had taken me years to get used to my sight, but after a while, the bluish-tinged haze actually helped me in battle. I could sense my opponents’ moves, how the air shifted and flowed right before they went in for an attack. In that way, my injury aided me.
But no one else knew that. To let on to your strengths was to grant your opponent the upper hand. It was better to let them believe I was a scarred beast, a quiet killer with a useless eye.
Not that I pitied myself or my appearance—not now, at least—but when people proclaim you to be one thing your whole life, you begin to believe them. And yet the wild girl before me only stared up at me in wonder.
I couldn’t help but think our scars spoke to each other as well. Bonded us. It had taken restraint not to pry and ask her about her accident, but I resisted the temptation, content that she’d finally removed her gloves and showed me all of her.
To me, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever beheld, and her wounds only made her that much more alluring.
We must have walked for two hours straight, the silence easy and comfortable, as it always had been between us.
