Page 96 of A Haven of Brimstone and Darkness

Lifting my head away from the root, I look up as the footsteps that I’d been running from before emerge from the clouds.

A sob escapes me. “Ruen.” His name is a whisper on my lips. I don’t believe it, but he’s here and his arms close around me, lifting me away from the tree and against his chest.

He’s not completely healed—the flesh of his chest and the wounds on his face remain—but he moves far better than he had on that stage hours before.

“Fuck, this is complicated,” he growls, twisting one way and then another.

“How are you here?” I’m ashamed at how breathless I sound.

I’m supposed to be an assassin. I’ve trained. I’ve sacrificed. How am I the weakened one?

Midnight eyes settle on my face as Ruen comes to a stop. “Caedmon,” he answers me. “Caedmon and Ariadne.”

I shake my head, my vision blurring. “Ariadne betrayed us,” I murmur, my words slurring together. I drag my fingers through the blood over my body. “She stabbed me.”

Over me, Ruen’s face clenches with displeasure, but he sucks in a breath and hefts me closer. “Trust me, Kiera,” he says, holding me infinitely closer. “She hasn’t betrayed you—this is all part of the plan.”

How can he believe that when I’m fucking dying? I want to grab him and shake him, punch him, kick and scream at the unfairness of it all, but my energy is waning and the darkness is coming again.

“Ruen…”I try to beg him to help me, to slap me or do something to bring me back. If my final Darkhaven hears my plea, though, it goes unanswered as he carries me into the fog once more and the darkness takes me over.

Chapter 47

Kiera

Dad’s wide, rough palm touches the side of my face before absently stroking back the pale strands of my hair as I sit propped in his lap. He’s lost in his own thoughts. He may pet me, but the action is one of instinct rather than true care. His back is to the side of our little cabin, and though I fiddle with the edge of his shirtsleeve, wondering when he’ll bother to look down at me—or pay me any attention—his gaze is fixed ahead.

I turn my eyes to the sight of the sunset in the far distance, over the hills and trees that make up our home in the Hinterlands. The snow covers the ground, normally a hard dark brown in summer, now a blanket of white. Here, we don’t own the land so much as we are part of it. The various shades of oranges, reds, yellows, and blues that bleed into the sky as the sun sinks over the horizon hurt my eyes, but my dad never looks away. It’s as if he’s transfixed by the sight.

I sigh and drop the edge of his shirtsleeve. I hate it when he gets like this because it means he’s thinking of her. Why can’t he just think of me? I’m here. She’s not.

As if he senses my impending mood, he shifts under me, the thick thigh I’m perched on swaying and me with it. “Kiki?”

Biting down on my lower lip, I wince as the nickname I’ve grown so used to hearing from him hits my ears. I’m almost nine now. I’m not a little girl anymore and he doesn’t have to pretend that he doesn’t miss her. Even if I don’t understand why he would miss someone who obviously never cared about us.

I force myself to smile as I look up at him. “Can I make the soup tonight for dinner?” I ask.

Dad’s hard gray eyes, similar to my own, rove over my face, and for the first time since I climbed upon his lap to watch the sunset, he actually looks back at me. “Are you okay, little one?” he inquires.

My smile turns strained. “Of course,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dad doesn’t respond. His lips turn down as his hand cups the side of my head and he pulls me closer. My cheek smooshes against the rough wool of his tunic. It might be scratchy against my skin, but the smell he emits—like pine needles and ice—soothes the raging emotions inside my belly and chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, fingers stroking through my hair. “I must have drifted off again.”

I repress a snort. Dad never falls asleep during the day. No matter how tired he is. No matter if he spent several days out hunting a beast to cart back. He doesn’t nap. I wish he did. That would make me feel better than these random moments where he is there and yet also not. Whoever she is, it’s clear that she still holds a great power over him.

I hate her for that.

Hate her for leaving him even if I used to hate her for leaving me too. Now, I don’t. Not for myself. I didn’t know the woman so she never hurt me, but I would never forgive anyone for the sorrow in Dad’s eyes. Even if he never wanted me to see it, I do. I may have been born at night, but I wasn’t bornlastnight. Even a nine-year-old can see the truth when it’s sitting right in front of her.

“You’re upset.” Dad sighs.

I stiffen but shake my head. “No, I?—”

“Don’t try to lie to me, little one,” Dad cuts me off. “A father can always tell what his little girl is thinking.”

“I’m not little anymore,” I grumble. I’m a grown woman with responsibilities and darkness in her past. I’ve killed. I’ve tasted my own blood. I’ve seen death … haven’t I?

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