Page 98 of Of Sword & Silver

“There you have it,” Lara says, but her smile is self-deprecating.

“The prophecy… that was true though, right?” I narrow my eyes. “Have you told us the truth about that?” And Dario, I want to ask, but it doesn’t matter what she says, I haven’t trusted his oily ass since the minute he kicked Fil.

That would make me question his judgment regardless, because what kind of idiot kicks a direcat?

One with a death wish, maybe.

“That was true, Kyrie,” Lara answers slowly. “But the future… it’s been increasingly cloudy over the past few years. Fraught with… chaos.”

Everyone’s gaze swings to me.

When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?

“My turn,” Caedia announces, clapping her hands. “I started training to be a healer because I had a dog I wanted to take care of.” She gives us a mischievous smile. “Or, I started training to be a healer so I could break every bone in someone’s body, heal him, and do it again.”

My jaw drops.

Morrow puts a hand over his face, and the Sword lets out a startled laugh.

Lara just winces. “I’m assuming the dog’s a lie.”

“I did have a dog,” Caedia tells us solemnly. “But the other was a bigger motivator.”

Lara catches my eye, and I scrub a hand down my face.

“Good to know,” I say. “Morrow, this has been an enlightening exercise.” And it has. I’m reevaluating my opinion of Caedia fairly quickly—as well as her role in my plan. “Caedia, do you have… any dryad, er, magic besides healing?”

“Of course I do.” She snaps her fingers, and one of the logs stacked next to the fireplace begins sprouting leaves.

A real smile curves my lips. “That’s… perfect.” I’ll have to ask her how she feels about hurting people as a healer nowadays… but I have a feeling I know the answer.

“My turn,” the Sword says, his low growl of a voice taking me by surprise. I was so invested in Caedia’s unexpected bloodthirstiness I forgot just how close he is to me.

“I am glad Kyrie drank from the chalice,” he says, his throat bobbing.

My heart nearly stops, then starts up again, pounding faster than ever.

“My real name is the Sword.”

Shock winds through me. His real name isn’t the Sword, there’s no way.

Which means he’s glad I drank from the chalice. He’s glad I’ve been cursed to die by his god.

Seething, I stand up, ignoring the way his fingers brush my wrist.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Lara asks him. “My gods, you are an asshole. Kyrie, wait.” I shake her hand off.

“She doesn’t understand,” Lara hisses at him.

Caedia says something in her high-pitched voice. It bounces off me.

Unseeing, not caring, I lurch towards one of the doors branching off from the living room into the main bedroom.

The door doesn’t slam behind me, snicking softly closed instead, and I lean against it, my breath coming in fast pants.

There’s a tub steaming in the corner and I shuck my clothes automatically. Water threatens to slosh over the sides as I get in.

It’s hot, uncomfortably so on my cold feet and hands, and I sink under the water all the way, only my nostrils breaching the surface.

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