His jaw hardens. “They aren’t Hematite. They are rebel scum.”
“Why? What makes them different?” I have always wanted to know why the two houses hate each other so much.
The man leans closer and speaks in a low, gruff voice. “They rebelled against our chieftain. There is only one end for people like that.”
It is obvious there is nothing I can say to change his twisted mind. So, instead of replying, I look for Everly and find her being held onto by a warrior with a long scar slashed across his face. A young woman with fiery red hair stands next to him.
Everly’s fearful eyes meet mine, and my veins heat with the urge to protect her, to slay them all. That impulse doesn’t care that I don’t have any bloodstone. It still boils within me, imploring me to listen to the sound of darkness. To see it. To feel it. To grab hold of it and wield it like a blade of death on all these evil Hematites.
“Let us go. We have nothing to do with any of this,” I say, knowing I must do something, even if it means trying to reason with a monster.
Red Beard smirks. “You interfered.”
“I tried to help the dying. That is not a crime. Unless you see humanity as a crime.”
His gaze drops to my necklace. “If you are a healer, you are a terrible one.”
His words reach cruelly inside my chest and squeeze my heart, wounding the part of me that has always wanted to heal people.
One of the warriors rides through the group of Hematites and pulls his gelding to a stop in front of me. “The Kyanite will ride with me.”
Shock catapults through me at his familiar voice.
Jasce?
Wrenley’s brother?
What is he doing here?
Red Beard’s mouth tightens into a fierce frown, but he doesn’t object. Maybe he knows it’s better to not argue with his chieftain’s son.
Jasce still has the same black hair and dark eyes I remember, but now he looks more severe, as if the passage of time has carved hardness into his skin.
Unlike Red Beard, he doesn’t have any runes on his armor. Probably because he doesn’t need them to cast his Hematite fire magic.
Even though I only spent an evening with Wrenley’s brother, it was one I will never forget. We hunted a man together, and in the end, I allowed my darkness to overcome me.
Jasce extends his hand to help me onto his horse. I stare up at him, taking in the way the sun glistens in his eyes, revealing gold flecks. I search them for warmth, for compassion, but I do not find any. There’s only the impenetrable ice fortress he surrounds himself with.
I have no choice but to place my foot into the stirrup and swing my other leg over the horse’s back. Jasce steadies me with a strong arm around my waist.
“Thank you,” I whisper, unsure if I am thanking him for helping me onto the horse or for saving me from Red Beard.
Jasce doesn’t reply.
The Hematites herd the villagers who aren’t injured into steel cages built into the backs of wagons. My heart lurches as they shoo Everly into one of them.
No!
This cannot be.
Everything inside me wants to launch from Jasce’s horse, to call down the wrath of the gods, to rain it on all these Hematites. To save Everly! To save these villagers!
But I cannot. It would be foolish.
I would die. They would die.
The earth would bleed red, then it would swallow us, as if we never existed.
