Page 134 of A ?Sky Beyond the Storm

And I think of the way he held me after I learned, in these very woods, that my mother was a murderer and that she still lived.

Afterward, he spoke words that I haven’t wanted to remember. Because I feared I would never again see the man who said them, no matter how much I called him by his name.

If I seem different, remember that I love you. No matter what happens to me. Say you’ll remember, please.

“I remember,” I whisper, and make my way across the jinn grove. “I remember.”

«««

Elias’s tent sits at the northern end of the camp, closer to the trees than to the rest of the soldiers. But I know just by looking at it, and by listening to some voice inside me that connects me to him, that he is not there. I follow that voice south, to the edge of the jinn grove, wherehe stands alone, soaked to the skin, looking over the Sher Jinnaat.

I step toward him, only to hear the hiss of a blade. Cold steel meets my throat. He makes out my face and drops his scim instantly.

“Sorry.” He turns back to the city. “Jumpy.”

“Me too.” I ask him, “Is it always like this before a battle?”

“You’ve fought in a fair few yourself now,” he says.

“Not one where everything depends on me.”

“You’re not alone. You have Darin. Afya, Mamie, and the Tribes.” Elias’s gaze flashes to me. “The Blood Shrike and the Martials. Musa and the Scholars. Those who love you. Those—those who you love.”

“You forgot yourself, then,” I say. “You most of all.”

He shakes his head. “I’m here because I must be,” he says. “It is my duty. My burden to make up for my wrongs. I do not deserve your love, Laia—”

“Haven’t you learned?” I say. “You don’t get to decide if you deserve my love or not. I decide that. You are worthy of my love. You are worthy of the love Mamie has for you, and the love the Blood Shrike feels. You’ve done terrible things? So have I. We were born into war, Elias. It is all we’ve known. Your mistakes only define the rest of your life if you let them. Don’t let them.”

He regards me thoughtfully and reaches for my hand. A spark jumps between us and he hesitates, but then laces his fingers through mine.

“There’s a question I have been meaning to ask you,” I blurt out, for if I do not ask now, I never will. “But it is from before you took your vow to Mauth. I don’t know if you will remember—”

“When it comes to you, I remember everything,” he says, and my pulse quickens.

“After we escaped Nur with Afya, you left,” I say. “You said something to me before you did. I was sleeping, but—”

“How do you know I said something to you?” He turns to me, but his face is in shadow.

“What did you say?”

“I said—” But he stops short. The drizzle thickens and threatens to transform into a downpour.

“Never mind.” He raises his voice as the rain intensifies. “We should get back to camp, Laia. You need dry clothes—”

But camp is full of people and weapons and reminders that tomorrow is coming. I shake my head, and when he tugs me, I dig my heels in.

“Take me somewhere else,” I say. “You can windwalk. There must be a place we could go.”

He steps toward me slowly, deliberately. His eyes burn, sweeping across my skin with as much heat as a caress. We could windwalk with just our hands connected, but he wraps his arms around my waist, and I bury my face in the hard expanse of his chest as we fly through the dark.

I do not dwell on tomorrow or on the war or the Nightbringer. I immerse myself in the feeling of Elias’s touch. I breathe him in, that spice and rain scent that weaves itself through my dreams.

We stop abruptly, stumbling forward a few steps before he steadies us.

“This is the only other place in the forest the jinn won’t go,” he says. His cabin.

The door is not locked—for no human would come so far into the Waiting Place. Once we are inside, Elias scrapes tinder against flint, and the barest glow bursts from the fireplace. When the flame is higher, he lights four or five lamps before turning to me.

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