Page 33 of Of Wind and Terror

Blaze’s brows bunch together, and he takes a step closer, taking Kassandra’s arm with such gentleness that a lump rises in my throat. I have no idea why.

“The Mark of Chaos,” Blaze breathes in horror, his face draining of color.

I blink at him.

How the fuck does he know about the Mark of Chaos?

Desperation seeming to spur his movements, Blaze grabs Kassandra’s cheeks and rests his forehead against hers. His entire body shakes and rattles with the force of his breaths. “The elf is right. You need to get to Amorite and have that mark removed. Now. Before it’s too late.”

Kassandra signs something, and Faye translates. “Too late for what?”

I answer before Blaze can, giving Kassandra the final piece of the puzzle, the most important one of all. The one I’ve been purposefully keeping from her in order to protect her. “Before you become the vessel for Chaos and destroy the world.”

12

KASSANDRA

Avessel…for Chaos?

My head spins, my heart races, and fear trails its icy, insidious fingers down my spine. I suddenly can’t stand. My legs threaten to buckle and give out from underneath me.

I don’t know who to look at—Aleksander, who lies on the ground with an uncharacteristically solemn expression on his face, or Blaze, who looks one tick away from murdering everyone in the clearing with his bare hands and then eating their remains.

“Explain. Now,” I demand of Blaze, and the Fall Prince runs a hand down his haggard-looking face.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look tired before. Were those dark circles always underneath his eyes? Have his cheeks always been so pale and gaunt? Has his hair always appeared so disheveled? Why haven’t I noticed any of it earlier?

“The Mark of Chaos hasn’t been around for hundreds of years,” he admits gruffly, his voice a low murmur as if it physically pains him to speak those words out loud.

“And it hasn’t been relevant for maybe two hundred years,” Aleksander pipes up. He narrows his eyes at Blaze suspiciously. “So how do you know about it?”

Blaze ignores the elf’s question and keeps his gaze locked on me. The scruff on his jawline gives him a rugged, dangerous look that should intimidate or even frighten me. It somehow makes his piercing hazel eyes appear even more penetrating, a feat I didn’t think was possible.

Yet I don’t feel fear when I stare up at him.

My stomach flips over itself at the revelation, and I take an instinctive step closer, arching towards him, wanting his touch and comfort, wanting the relief only he can bring me.

He tentatively traces the mark on my bicep, and a full-body shudder reverberates through him.

“What do you know about it?” I sign, maintaining eye contact.

“I’m assuming the elf told you about how the Mark of Chaos was used in the war between Chaos and Order?” Blaze asks, and I blink at him in surprise.

He knows the legend of Chaos and Order?

Why didn’t I know about it?

At my nod, he continues in a voice drenched with resignation. “The Mark of Chaos was used on Chaos’s army. It was a magical bond between the god himself and his loyal followers. With the mark in place, he was able to…”

He trails off, as if struggling to find the right words, and Aleksander quickly takes over the explanation.

“He was able to inject some of his magic into the fae.” The elf peers up at the sky, his hands clasped on his taut stomach, a picture of nonchalance and innocence, almost as if he’s simply drifting off to sleep. “There were thousands and thousands of soldiers, and every one got a tiny bit of his power through the mark.”

“But with only one mark currently in existence…” Blaze gives me a pointed look, his expression grave, his eyes frosted over like a sword encased in ice.

“Are you saying that all of that power is going straight into me?” I sign, incredulous.

My heart pounds so erratically and rapidly I’m surprised it doesn’t break free of my rib cage and splatter at our feet.

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