Page 35 of A Sun Scorched Bloom

At his words, a gust of air blew from behind them, so hard that even Obsidian took a step forward without his master’s command. Lea had never once seen Obsidian so much as sidestep a branch without Gray’s approval, but even the powerful stallion hadn’t been stronger than the intensity of the wind.

Leaning back and resting her head on Gray’s shoulder so she could look at him, Lea gave him a confident, if not forced, smile. Trepidation pinched in her chest, but she shoved it down. "We'll be fine. The goddess will protect us. I can feel it." She placed a hand on her sternum.

Immediately, the necklace warmed around her throat, and she lifted her fingers to the piece of star Gray had gifted her without her knowledge so long ago. The piece of fallen sky that had protected her all of those years from the Lonely Death. It pulsed against her skin like the steady beat of a heart, and when she looked down, she noticed it glowed a faint silver-blue. Lea chose to believe it was confirmation from the goddess. She would protect them.Right?

Lea swallowed down her doubt. If Gray prodded the bond to find her so uncertain, it was entirely possible he’d try harder to talk her out of going. "Thank you for doing this for me," Lea said, lacing her fingers between his. "Thank you for trusting me."

Finally pulling his gaze from the woods in front of them, Gray’s eyes softened. "I would doanythingfor you, Little Flower. I would fight every demon in hell if it meant getting you the answers that you need. But it doesn’t mean that I’m not afraid. Do not let your power sleep until we step foot on the soil of Calir. You need to be ready for anything."

A shiver ran down Azalea’s spine, and her hair stood on end. "Then it’s a good thing I got that magic lesson last night." Lea nudged Gray with her shoulder, trying to lighten the mood.

"Mhmm…" Gray rumbled, obviously not appreciating her attempt at humor. "You are a warrior, Azalea, and you will not be defeated. Hear it like a drum with every step we take. The woods will try to infiltrate your mind, make you think you’re weak and desperate. Do not forget that you are the Queen of Flames and Shadows. Do not forget the people behind us who love you. And do not ever allow yourself to forget that you are mine. You belong to me, and me alone. The demons in these woods have no ownership over you." He cupped her cheek. "Mine," his gravelly voice traveled straight to her core, their bond stretching taut inside her chest.

"Yours," Lea whispered before leaning up to press her mouth against his. He claimed her lips immediately, deepening their kiss as a possessive groan escaped his throat before breaking it off all too soon. Lea felt the loss of his lips acutely, the buzzing that always accompanied his touch fading away. Lea wanted to protest, but she couldn’t blame him for pulling away. They needed every minute of daylight they had to travel south and find a safe place to camp for the night.

"I’ll remember. As long as you don’t forget that you’re also mine," Lea said with a quick peck to his scruffy cheek before turning and facing forward. "Are we ready?" Lea called out to her friends waiting silently behind them. Lea wasn’t sure what had come over her, but she knew that she was supposed to lead this charge forward—felt that this was her journey to guide.

"Ready," Noah said, straightening his shoulders and staring into the woods ahead.

"We’ve been ready, but you guys insist on getting it on no matter where we go, so…" Janelle responded, and Lea heard Erik’s contagious laugh travel toward the woods. The trees seemed to shrink back in response to his joy. "We’re ready, Sunshine," he confirmed with a chuckle.

"Emma?" Lea called out, only to be met with silence. "Emma?" A lump of fear lodged in Lea’s throat as she twisted in her seat in an attempt to see around Gray’s massive body, but his hulking form blocked her view. With a huff of aggravation, she grabbed the reins and turned Obsidian to face her friend, taking in her pale face and shaking hands.

The nervous horse beneath Emma shuffled its feet, slowly moving backward as if it understood what was causing Emma’s fear.

"What’s wrong?" Gray kicked Obsidian’s sides, spurring him to trot to Emma. "Emma, talk to me," he said, his eyebrows lowering and his voice deepening. He sounded like the Night Prince once again, the Eclipsed King. His tone had changed from that of a lover’s into that of a soldier's.

Emma was rambling, but her words were lost to the wind as her mouth gaped open. Lea focused on her lips, trying to read what shapes they were making.She’s praying,Lea realized, Emma's eyes fixed on the woods beyond them. Cold dread filled her veins. She’d seen this look before on her friend's face, only days ago.

"Oh, Emma. It’s the dead, isn’t it?" Lea asked gently, slowly placing a hand on Emma’s forearm.

Emma’s face paled, her warm brown skin turning a strange shade of gray. "Dozens of them. More…" Emma whispered, her voice shaking. "As far as I can see." Lea turned to look at the forest, at the empty spaces between the crooked, knotty branches of the trees. They were empty, at least to her eyes, but as she stared ahead, her magic felt someone’s presence. Her skin prickled as the air became unnaturally cool and the feeling of eyes on her became overwhelming. Lea pulled her sweater tighter, as if it could shield her. They were not alone.

"What do they want, Emma?" Gray prodded, straightening in the saddle and turning Obsidian sideways, blocking the others as he attempted to take control of the situation. Always assessing, always calculating.

"To stop us," Emma breathed."Do not enter these cursed woods, lest you wish to join us and wander through the darkness for eternity."

Chapter 20

Emma

MuchofEmma’stimeon their race to find Lea and Gray had been spent considering the revelation that she could see the spirits of those who had not yet passed beyond the veil. Her entire life, she’d intuitively known people’s emotions more deeply than others seemed to. Emma had thought it was simply a strength of hers that she could feel what others did just as they felt it and empathize with their worries and angers and hurts.

Years had been spent explaining away the spirit of the boy who’d lost his life that day. It had been a fluke, or the trauma of witnessing death so young. That’s what she’d always told herself, at least. But there was no denying now that what had happened that day would follow her for the rest of her life. Her ability was something heavier than her own shadow, but just as persistent. She would never get away from it.

Emma tried to hide that her hands still sometimes shook slightly from what she had seen when Claire had been killed. Once she’d calmed down, she had reminded herself over and over again that she was not so easily broken, yet she still found it difficult to adjust to this new life so quickly. Not only had she joined a rebellion she hadn’t even known existed within the past few days, but she now had to accept that she would never escape death. Anyone who passed would linger, their souls hoping to speak to her, to beg for her to help them, despite the fact that she didn’t knowhowto help them. It was a useless gift, and she had prayed to the gods constantly since they'd left Auropera to take the burden from her. Since she’d watched Claire take her final breath, only to rise and demand Emma find a way for her to remain, tolive.

A different prayer fell from her lips as she stared at the bodies–no, souls—of the countless men in front of her. Most of them wore the black uniform of the royal army, with only a few who appeared to have been villagers, likely from the small pockets of homes that had been built throughout the southern kingdom, not large enough to be considered towns or villages. They were so small that the settlements weren’t even named, only groups of eight to ten families, content to be as far away from the capital as possible.

Above their heads, the meteors continued to increase in number, thousands of streaks of silver-blue light racing toward Calir as if urging them forward, the wind suddenly blowing at their backs. It was an obvious sign from the gods to continue on. But how could they go forward when fifty of the dead were warning her that to enter those woods meant certain death?

None of the souls left the confines of the Wicked Wood only feet in front of them. They stood just at the border, staring at her with an intensity that told her they genuinely believed every word they were saying. They had chanted over each other, the same words, but at different tempos and volumes; a muddled melody of darkness and death.

Emma attempted to gulp down her fear and swallow the nausea that was rising up her throat. There were too many of them, too many voices filling her head, and she didn’t know how to process it. With a deep breath, she focused on the man closest to them, directly ahead of her horse. He had been a soldier, with red hair cropped close to his head. A horrific gash crossed his eyebrow, cutting into the white bone of his skull. Something jagged had torn through his flesh, leaving strings of skin hanging down his face like ribbons. Looking at the wound, Emma knew that were she to have found him alive with this injury, the wound would have been too severe to ever make him whole again.

Blood crusted his nostrils and the sides of his lips, and Emma shivered at how gruesome his pale face looked. She tried to keep her eyes from looking down, from exploring what the rest of his injuries looked like. Intuition prickled at her skin, a feeling that what she would find on his body would be far worse than the fatal wound on his head, but her eyes disobeyed her. Bile filled the back of her throat as she took in the massive open wound across his abdomen and chest. Sharp bones protruded where his rib cage had been—jagged, broken shards covered in blood. His intestines hung from his belly almost to the ground, and his army trousers were drenched in thick crimson blood. It was sickening, terrifying, but Emma took several deep breaths. It would be cruel to show the disgust she was feeling, the pure revulsion, when this man had died in such a horrific way.

She forced herself to meet his eyes. There had been no dignity in his death, but she could give it to him now by allowing him to speak, by acknowledging what had happened to him.

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