Page 58 of Of Sword & Silver

I like to handle things. I like every possibility and outcome sorted out. I haven’t felt this out of control since I was so lovingly adopted into the tender embrace of the Sisters of Sola.

I hate it.

“They will find us,” Lara assures me.

My lips twist to the side and I find my gaze darting to the Sword before my cheeks go hot and I immediately look away.

“Right.” I drag the word out. “So we’re just going to… make our way to Nyzbern, figure out how to infiltrate the midwinter masque, and pray that we stumble upon the last two people we need to fulfill the prophecy you delivered last night?”

The Sword laughs, but there’s an edge to it. I ignore him. I thought I was getting good at that particular trick, but the urge to turn around and see the smile on his face, sarcastic or not, is strong.

Damn his dimple.

“That’s the plan,” Lara says easily.

“Prayer. The plan is prayer,” I repeat, beyond annoyed. “I don’t know if you remember who I’m supposed to pray to, but?—"

“Every god has two faces,” Morrow interrupts, quoting the most popular Heskan prayer book. “Pray you get the one you want, and not the one you need.”

I decide I don’t like Morrow very much.

“Hey, Sword, old friend,” my tongue nearly trips over that descriptor, but I forge ahead anyway. “Maybe we could desecrate some more graves. Ask your rotting friends for help.” This time, I turn around as fully as I can in the saddle, watching carefully for his response.

“You would call upon Hrakan?” Morrow asks seriously.

Morrow is much easier to ignore than the Sword, but I answer him anyway.

“Oh yeah, me and the Sword, we live for that shit,” I lie easily. “Maybe our new friends the gods want us to work with are already dead.” I bat my eyelashes at the Sword over my shoulder.

“I think you just want to share power again,” the Sword says easily, and I go all tense and hot at once, remembering the way he felt against me.

His lips on my wrist.

His mouth on my skin.

His arm around my waist, holding me tight.

Goddess, I shouldn’t have said anything.

“You shared power?” Lara asks sharply.

“It wasn’t a big deal. Some corpse needed a little Kyrie juice. Special blend of smartass and magic. Irresistible, apparently.”

The Sword makes a choked noise, and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

It makes me grin. It makes me feel like I’ve won a prize.

“You are, by far, the most heretical person I have ever encountered,” Morrow mutters.

“Did Lojad murder your family so he could turn you into his perfect chosen one?” If acid drips from my tongue, so be it. Power builds, a tiny knot in my chest, and then I’ve unleashed it before I realize fully what’s happening. “Maybe you should just shut up about things you don’t understand.”

“Maybe I should,” Morrow agrees readily, falling silent.

“For Nakush’s sake, Kyrie,” Lara hisses at me, turning around in her saddle. “We fucking need him. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I shrug one shoulder carelessly.

I feel anything but careless.

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