Page 119 of The Sin Binder's Destiny
Silas
I swear to every god that ever walked this broken world, this is the best day of my life.
I’m not even kidding.
I’m riding a literal unicorn. A unicorn. And not just any unicorn—a glittering, dangerous, pointy bastard with murder in its eyes and a mane that looks like someone dumped starlight and sin in equal parts all over it. And—and—I have Luna on the back of this glorious, sparkly death horse with me.
If yesterday Silas could see me now, he’d die. He’d combust out of sheer joy. I lean back slightly, grinning so hard my face might fall off, and glance at her where she’s sitting behind me, her arms loosely looped around my waist like she’s trying not to hold on too hard but failing miserably.
I wiggle my shoulders a little, just to make her tighten her grip.
“So, Luna baby,” I say, pitching my voice loud enough to carry over the sound of hooves pounding across the uneven ground, “how manly do I look right now?”
She snorts. Actually snorts. I live for it.
She shifts a little, glancing around me at the unicorn we’re riding—the creature shimmering beneath us like it belongs in a godsdamn fairytale, its spiraled horn glinting in the weak Hollow light.
“Well,” she says, voice dry as bone, “it’s a very pretty unicorn.”
I gasp. Loud and dramatic.
“A pretty unicorn,” I repeat, hand pressed theatrically to my heart. “Baby, this unicorn is majestic. Masculine. Terrifying. This is war horse energy.”
She leans forward slightly, her chin brushing my shoulder as she adds sweetly, “It’s sparkly.”
I groan, dramatically, tipping my head back so she can see the full tragedy in my face. “You wound me.”
She laughs—soft, genuine, warm—and gods, I want to bottle that sound and hoard it like treasure.
I glance back at her again, catching the way her eyes soften when she looks at me, even when she’s pretending to tease, pretending not to adore me like I know she does.
“You know,” I say, grinning wider, “I picked this one on purpose. For you.”
She arches a brow, clearly skeptical. “Because it’s sparkly?”
“Because it’s sparkly,” I confirm proudly. “And because it could gut me without breaking a sweat, but instead it’s letting me parade you around like a prize.”
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head like she’s pretending I’m too much.
I lean in a little, dropping my voice low and conspiratorial. “Plus, it’s got glitter in its mane. You know how I feel about glitter.”
She groans, burying her face briefly in my shoulder. “You are chaos.”
I grin wider, my heart flipping stupidly in my chest, because she says it like she meansmine.
“You love me,” I sing back at her, too loud, too smug.
“I do,” she mutters under her breath, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
And I swear—if the Hollow swallowed us whole right now, I’d die happy.
And then I glance to my left.
And there’s Caspian.
Looking like he just stepped out of some tragic, beautifully dangerous painting—his hair whipping back from his face, his profile sharp enough to cut glass, his posture loose and easy like he was born to ride myth and legend.
It’s offensive, honestly.
