She smiled, and my blood boiled at the sight. My fingers tightened around her throat?—
I frowned as my grip loosened instead.
What the fuck?
The flames spread over my skin, but when they reached her—as they crawled up her arm—she didn’t flinch away, didn’t react as the fire licked at her body. Her soft eyes remained fixated on me as the flames swept over her, but they didn’t burn her, didn’t so much as blister her leather armor. They died without my command, and I looked over myself. I tried to call the fire back, but it only further curled within me until it fell completely dormant, like a dog happy to come to heel.
What the fuck was happening to me? Something swelled in my chest as those pale silver orbs pierced me, as if she could see every bit of me that had been snuffed out since that night. There was no anger, no hatred, within that gaze.
It’s fake. She’s fake. She’s lying.
“Why do you fight me?” she asked. “I just want to help you.”
“Why, though?” I ground out, my hand shaking as I released her throat and lowered it against my command. “Why help me?”
She took my hand, the one that had just threatened to choke the life out of her. I took a step back as something warm and soothing seeped into my skin where she touched me, her presence overwhelming.
It’s a lie... It’s?—
She didn’t falter, her scent void of any fear or anger, and any words I might say were tangled and lodged in my throat.
She...she was the real thing. She was Moira’s reincarnation, the queen our people had missed more than anything. Her hand fell to the satchel strapped to her belt. A glint of gold caught my attention as she pulled something from the pouch.
My heart stopped.
A bracelet...Herbracelet... The one I’d gifted her on her eighteenth birthday, before everything went to shit.
“Because...” she started, her warm smile resonating in her eyes as she clasped the delicate gold chain around my wrist.
Could I trust that smile? Could I trust her?
She spoke again, and for a moment, I almost felt I could forget every fake, manipulative smile that had led me to this cell, almost felt I could trust her. “You’re innocent, and I’m going to clear your name.”
3
THALIA
Potential warriors congregated before me in the training yard, all untested. Thirty sets of eyes watched me as I paced, assessing each and every male and female. I wondered how many would make it through training, how many would fall on their first hunt before they took their vows as fully fledged warriors—how many of them would only serve as flesh to satiate the darklings’ endless hunger.
Dust kicked up from those training nearby, the dirt dry from the hot summer months and little rain we’d had recently. The heat that had set in early in the day left sweat beading on my skin, stray strands of hair that had loosened from my braid clinging to the back of my neck. It was going to be a joyous day of training if the warmth persisted, and I expected it would.
“My name is Thalia,” I said, folding my arms over my chest as I stepped in front of the lineup. “I have served Lady Lucia and Lord Damien for ten years now, hunting darklings and assisting in training recruitsto serve The Order.”
The recruits stood at attention, their arms tucked behind their backs as they stared forward. This group seemed better prepared than the previous year’s. We would see how long that lasted. Training wasn’t going to be easy, and they would learn this wasn’t some fast track to glory and honor for their families. They would sweat and bleed every step of the way, and even after all that hard work, they may end as nothing more than ashes in Moira’s Rest.
If we even managed to recover their bodies.
“Breakfast is served at six sharp every morning, and you will be in lineup at seven to begin warmups. You will not leave this training yard until I say so, am I clear?”
“Transparently,” they said in unison.
“Good.”
My gaze snagged on Micah beyond the lineup, training with other warriors across the yard. His lips kicked up into a brief half-smile before he blocked a downward strike of his opponent’s blade. His shaggy brown hair was already drenched in sweat from the heat of the day, the curls defined with the moisture.
I pulled myself away at the sight of him, of the coiled muscles peeking from beneath his black tunic as the images of the things we’d done the night before resurfaced. I returned my attention to the recruits before I let on what had crossed my mind. A pair of males muttered to each other, and one of them snickered. I ignored it for now, continuing down the line.
“Apologies, but you said you’ve been serving for ten years. Aren’t you a recruit yourself?” a female asked, her tone genuinely curious. “How have you been serving for ten years? I thought training only lasted for three.”
