My mind drifts back to earlier, to the funeral pyres. I remember standing there, watching as they laid Liam’s body on the pyre. His face had been so peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping, but I knew better.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory, butit’s no use. Liam’s laugh echoes in my ears—that booming, infectious sound I’ll never hear again.
I liked Liam. He’d always been kind to me, always had a joke or a smile ready. And now he’s gone.
I shift closer to Cenric and lay my head on his chest. For a moment, he remains still, then his arm wraps around me. I close my eyes and breathe in his scent.
The silence between us stretches on, but it’s not uncomfortable. There’s a peacefulness to it, a shared understanding that words aren’t necessary right now. We both need this quiet moment to process, to heal.
Cenric’s fingers find their way into my hair, gently combing through the curls. I savor the feeling of his fingers in my hair, the way they lightly massage my scalp. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. In it, I feel his care, his affection, his need for this connection.
Cenric’s other hand finds mine and curls around my fingers. I squeeze gently, hoping the action conveys all the things I can’t put into words—my sympathy, my support, my love.
Chapter
Sixty-Seven
EVERLY
A frigid breezewhips at my clothes as I sit on a log the next morning, my mind replaying what happened the day before. How the battle had unfolded. How those arrows had rained over the cliff, striking all those rebels. I still hear their screams echoing in my ears.
My thoughts shift to Alvina, to that moment she had turned to Cenric, evil in her eyes. But before she could attack, someone struck her with a shield.
It had come from below. Someone from within the rebellion.
I glance at Cenric and find him staring into the fire, his eyes hard. He’s still so quiet after Liam’s death. Still so battered. So destroyed by losing a friend.
My focus drops to my hands, and I’m surprised to find them clean. They should be stained with blood, shouldn’t they? I was in the thick of it all.
I close my eyes, but that only makes the memories more vivid. The clash of steel. The twang of bowstrings. The cries of the wounded and dying.
Praxis approaches us and stops in front of Cenric. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Cenric stands and motions for me to follow. I rise to my feet, brushing the dirt from my surcoat, and fall into step behind him.
As we make our way across the camp, I wonder who this mysterious visitor could be. My mind races through possibilities. A messenger from Roland with urgent news from the capital? Another leader seeking an alliance? My thoughts drift to the darkest possibility—that it’s an assassin sent to kill Cenric. A chill runs down my spine at the thought.
We approach a large tent at the far edge of the camp. Two stern-faced guards stand at attention outside. Cenric nods to them as we pass, and I feel their eyes follow me as I slip into the tent.
The interior of the tent is lit only by one guttering torch ensconced in an iron bracket. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but as they do, I make out two people standing near the center of the tent, their backs to us.
The pair turn in unison, and my heart slams against my chest as recognition dawns.
Hawke stands there,his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. Beside him, Alvina glares daggers at us, her hands bound behind her back with a thick rope.
Hawke, on the other hand, is completely unrestrained.
I blink, wondering if the stress of battle has made me lose my mind. Hawke and Alvina? Here? Together? And one of them tied up while the other isn’t?
What in Hades is happening?
A thousand questions swirl through my thoughts. How did they get here? Why is Alvina tied up? Why does Hawke look so smug while she looks murderous? Were they working together? Betraying us? Betraying each other?
I whip my gaze frantically between Cenric and Hawke, searching for answers. Cenric stares blankly. Hawke smirks.
Because of course he does. I doubt the man is incapable of not smirking.
Hawke’s lips curl into that infuriatingly smug smile of his. “It’s nice to see you again, Everly.”
