Page 131 of Of Sword & Silver

Trusting him to guide me where I need to go, like this arcane ritual we’re about to perform is the most natural thing in the world.

I don’t really care if it’s the most unnatural thing—I’m doing it.

I refuse to let some curse beat me.

I can’t let Sola and her fellow gods win. I won’t.

“Here,” the Sword says and I blink, looking away from the white-water rapids of the River Blanst.

“Oh,” I say softly. It’s a cave, much like the one we went through all those days ago in Hiirek. “A barrow?”

“A sacred place.” He squeezes my hand, looking so deep into my eyes that I feel it sear my soul—my soul, which wants to be near him, which wants to be seen.

“Sacred place,” I repeat.

He pulls the Crown of Sola, the small, unassuming ring, from the chain around his neck.

I wondered where it went. My mouth is dry and I lick my lips, anxiety climbing.

“Here,” he says. The silver chain flashes in the sunlight, the tarnished ring sliding off of it into my palm. “Wear it,” he commands, and I slip it onto my fourth finger, unquestioning.

“What is going to happen?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.

His warm, big hands cup my face and I bite my lip.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

I nod. “I trust you.” I trust him so much it hurts. So much it scares me.

“Then you enter this sacred place willingly, with me as your chosen partner to perform the ritual?”

Magic grasps at me, whipping tendrils of my hair around my face, and I know instinctively that this is part of whatever lies ahead for me, this is part of what’s going to save me.

“I do.” The pull of the magic intensifies, clawing at us, tugging us into the mouth of the river cave.

“Then come, and fulfill your destiny,” the Sword intones.

I hold my head high, and I follow him into the dark.

I think I will always follow him into the dark.

The direcat treads lightly beside me, paws soundless on the damp cave floors.

The Sword is just as silent and I keep one hand in his, letting him guide me, letting him hold my whole heart with the other.

We come to a stop and I sway into him, off-balance, as I cough.

Dripping water sounds and the Sword murmurs a foreign word—Fae, probably—and the cave blazes with a fierce white light.

“That’s handy.”

The Sword deigns to give me a hint of a smile, though his scowl quickly replaces it. The light dazzles and I shield my brow with my hand, giving my eyes a moment to adjust.

We’re standing in a large circular chamber, cold water lapping at my boots. Fil paces in the narrower entry behind us, tail twitching as he watches with great glowing eyes.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, and he bares his teeth. “Right.”

The Sword is silent.

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