Page 53 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” I tell him, my voice soft. It’s the closest thing to a lie that I can muster. “We should prepare for our departure.”

He nods, crystalline eyes still searching my own like he is trying to look into my mind himself.

Forcing myself to take a step back, I turn around and make my way upstairs.

Chapter Fifteen

We leave for Esvelon the next morning. Our packs are filled nearly to the brim with at least seven days rations and waterskins we can refill. If we continue at an even pace with minimal delays, we should reach the city by the time we exhaust our supplies.

Savell, Ronan, Orim, and Kheldryn position themselves atop their mounts, double-checking their packs are secured to their horses.

Asheros takes my hand and leads me to the last horse. My breathing quickens, heart pounding against my ribcage, but I don’t fight his advances.

Amusement crosses his expression, lifting the corner of his mouth. “Nervous about riding with me again, Bladesinger?”

“You wish,” I reply, hiding my body’s reaction beneath a mask of bravado.

But it’s true. I’m not nervous. There is something else entirely to blame for my quickening heartbeat.

And it’s most definitely not fear.

He smiles, and it nearly steals my breath away. “That’s my fighter.”

The way he says those words only adds to the feeling that pulses through me in waves. It’s akin to the adrenaline that courses through me before taking up my sword. The thrill of the coming fight, like sparks running through my bones. Yet, it’s a different feeling all the same. It’s hope and excitement and endless untethered possibilities. As if I’m soaring high above the clouds where only the gods may tread despite my feet being firmly planted on earth.

“Speaking of,” he says, letting go of my hand and reaching into the pack strapped to our mount, “you may need these.”

With his palms facing upward, he cradles two long leather-wrapped steel objects in his hands, cradled like an offering.

My blades.

Relief floods through me at the sight of them, and I automatically wrap my fingers around the hilt of each one. I tilt them back and forth, watching the sun glint on the silvery-blue metal. In one swift motion, I slide them into their sheaths at my hips.

“Thank you,” I say, bringing my gaze up to his.

“There’s no need to thank me,” Asheros murmurs, eyes locked with mine. “They belong to you. I should have returned them long ago.”

My lips part for breath, and I can’t help but search his expression, looking for some ounce of deception. But I find none.

“May I?” he asks, holding out a hand.

I nod, giving him wordless permission. Taking my hand again, he lifts me up while I pull myself onto the horse’s back. Barely a moment passes before his body warms my back, settled in place behind me.

Once he’s ready, Asheros raises a hand, just higher than his temple, and directs two fingers ahead in a forward motion. Taking the reins, he orients us toward the road, a subtle motion of his legs urging our horse forward. I glance over my shoulder. Just like when we’d traveled before, the others fall in line behind us, immersed in their own conversations.

Facing forward again, I tilt my head down slightly, bringing my chin down toward my shoulder. To Asheros I say, voice low so the others can’t hear, “Savell is very protective of you.”

And the least trusting of me. Of all Asheros’s companions, he’s the only one who hasn’t let his guard down as far as I’m concerned.

“He…” Asheros swallows. “He has reason not to trust fae.”

I furrow my brow. “But he is fae.”

“Demi-fae,” Asheros corrects.

Savell is demi-fae?

I think of the only demi-fae I have the privilege of knowing well. My High Queen, Cryssa. She’s demi-fae, her ears rounded like those of a human. If not for her auburn hair—very similar in shade to the dark red of her aunt, Maelyrra Pelleveron, and cousin, Nisroth—one would think she is fully human. When I first met her, I’d thought so, too.

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