She lets out a shaky breath, then yanks a leather pouch from the bag tied to her belt. “She wants me to put this in your drink.”
I take the pouch from Everly, then carefully loosen the drawstring and lift the pouch to my nose, inhaling. The scent hits me immediately—sharp, bitter, and unmistakable. Nightshade.
Of course, Alvina would choose nightshade. It’s potent, fast-acting, and nearly impossible to trace.
“What is it?” Everly asks.
“Nightshade.”
Everly’s eyes widen, her face paling even further.
I slip the pouch into my cloak. “It seems Alvina’s thirst for vengeance hasn’t abated.”
“Vengeance?” Everly echoes, confusion evident in her tone.
I run my hand through my hair, the strands slipping through my fingers as I struggle to find the words to explain the depth of Alvina’s hatred for me. “Two summers ago, I killed her husband after he attacked me. But...” I pause, the memory of that fateful day flashing through my mind like a searing bolt of lightning. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken a life, but it was the first time I’d felt the consequences ripple so far beyond the battlefield.
“But what?” Everly prompts gently, her voice drawing me from the dark abyss of my memories.
“What I didn’t know at the time was that their son, who was only three summers, was in the woods nearby, waiting for his father to return from the battle.”
Everly’s hand flies to her mouth.
I take a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “The boy waited for days, wandering deeper into the forest, searching for his father. By the time anyone found him...”
I don’t need to finish the sentence. The anguish in her eyes tells me she understands the tragic fate that befell the child.
“Alvina blames me for both their deaths,” I say, my voice hollow.
The vines and logs creak as I hoist the litter once more, and Everly falls into step beside me.
As we press on, the forest changes. The vibrant greens fade to muted hues of purple and blue. Shadows lengthen and stretch across our path, and the canopy above grows denser, blocking out what little light remains.
I glance at Everly as her eyes dart from tree to tree. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
She offers a curt nod as the path narrows, forcing us to walk single file. I take the lead as I carefully navigate around protruding roots and low-hanging branches.
As the moon rises higher, visibility becomes a challenge. The trees around us blur into indistinct shapes, their trunks melding with the encroaching darkness. I squint as I strain to make out the path ahead.
“Cenric,” she whispers. “I can barely see.”
We could make camp, wait for dawn to continue our journey, but the thought of spending the night in these woods, with Finn’s body lying cold between us, doesn’t sit well with me.
“We push on,” I decide. “The camp isn’t far.”
Chapter
Thirty-Four
EVERLY
I walk behind Cenric,my legs feeling like lead with each step. The forest path stretches endlessly before us. I try to keep my eyes fixed on his broad back as he pulls the litter, but my gaze keeps drifting downward.
No, I can’t look.
I won’t look.
But it’s there, at the edge of my vision. Finn’s lifeless form. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, willing the tears not to fall.
