Page 31 of Of Sword & Silver

Still.

Still, I have a vow to fulfill, and what’s more, a destiny to pursue. Fate’s wheel does not slow for anyone, not even me. Not for Kyrie, either, and she’s caught in its spokes.

All the more reason for me to keep myself in check around her.

The cave winds deeper, the path narrow and steeper the further we go. Kyrie murmurs something in low tones to the direcat, and I realize with a twinge of guilt she’s likely using the beast to guide her.

Humans can’t see in this kind of light.

“I have to say,” she calls out loudly, further ruining the stillness of the cave, “I am not typically the type of woman to blindly follow a man into a dark cave. Unless he’s the mark and I’m going to hold a knife against his throat.”

“You did not have to come down here.” She did, though. In fact, she is necessary to accomplish what I must here.

“You must think I am really stupid if you thought I was going to let you out of my sight when you’re supposed to be the key to saving me, Sword.”

“Stupid? No.” I shake my head, even though she won’t see it. “I do not think you stupid.”

A harsh laugh bounces off the walls. “Careful. That’s almost a compliment, coming from you.”

The direcat makes that odd coughing sound again, and I wonder just how intelligent Dyrda’s chosen animal truly is. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if it understood everything being said.

Discomfort me, though? Perhaps.

“It’s a sad truth of how few compliments a woman like you has been paid if you’re seeking them out in that statement.”

She goes silent, and I know I’ve gone too far—I know as well as any how the Sisters of Sola dole out their praise.

“Do you get a prize from your god for being cruel to me? Some reward in the afterlife for tormenting Sola’s favorite silver tongue?”

“Some fate she allowed for her so-called favorite,” I retort, then immediately regret it.

It’s remarkable how far and close she is to the truth all at once.

Even her renewed silence seems hurt, because we both know the truth about the goddess of liars.

She does not care one whit about Kyrie or any of the rest of her followers, nor does she care about any of the beings in her territories—only what little entertainment they can bring her. Unfortunately for Heska, the entertainment Sola prefers is anything but kind.

“You know, since we’re on the topic of fates and gods, why is it you think Hrakan left you to rot in that cell in Cottleside?”

The name Hrakan sends a bolt of shame through me, as it has for years now, and I nearly stumble over a rough patch on the cave floor.

“I think we need light,” I mutter.

“Here,” Kyrie says, and a moment later, her cold fingers brush against my hip. “Sorry. Can’t see. Flint.”

I take the rocks from her, slightly bemused because I need them to make fire as much as I need the light to see.

Which is, of course, not at all.

Better to pretend, though. Pretend I’m no more than the male she found filthy and tethered by chains in that cell in Cottleside.

Sola herself would approve, I’m sure.

The thought makes my stomach twist, and I can’t bring myself to use the human’s rocks.

“I have a better way,” I say, my voice abnormally quiet, so low I doubt she’s even heard me. “An easier way.”

I speak the word the cave wants, a word that makes the flesh behind my eyes spike with pain to use it, as weakened as I’ve become.

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