Page 51 of An Honored Vow

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Seeing them means they hold no ill will against you, I reminded myself.You can’t hold on to secrets and juggle every decision of this war.You have no use for secrets anymore.

A warm sureness filled my chest at those words. It was a strange feeling; one I had not felt in a long time. One I thought I would never be able to feel again.

Trust. In myself.

The light was dim with only two faelights hovering along the ceiling. Even still, the moment I stepped around the wall, everyone went quiet.

Riven let out a grunt from under his hood, his fingers reaching for the laces at his throat to untie it, but I shook my head.

This was my choice.

Gerarda smiled smugly from the other side of the slab while Elaran’s jaw dropped. Her gaze followed the same path that all the others did, starting at my shoulders before trailing down to the fiery patterns along my wrists. Her nostrils flared as she saw Brenna’s name written bigger, and more rigidly, than all the others.

I felt the weight of Riven’s stare beside me, but I didn’t look at him.

Feron beamed at me. Then he clapped his hands. “Let us begin.”

Gerarda pulled out a small vial of blue liquid that I recognized. Unstoppered, it would fill the room with a pungent odor, foul enough to raise Kairn from his unconscious state.

I looked at Feron. “You can’t just enter his memory while he’s unconscious?”

“It would add a considerable amount of time to the process.”

I glanced at Riven, who was still under his hood. Even though I wanted him to be honest about who he truly was with the rest of the Elverin, having Damien announce it to the room by mindwalking into Kairn was not the way it should happen.

Understanding flooded Feron’s face. He raised his hand and a root shot from the earth, twisting around his wrist. His lilac eyes glowed for a long moment before he dropped the root back into the ground.

Feron turned to Pirmiith. “There is movement along the eastern edge of the forest. Something big.”

“I will bring a group to search.” Pirmiith stood straight, his spear already in his hand.

Feron shook his head. “Send two.”

Pirmiith frowned. “Do you not need help with the mountain man?” His lip curled as he looked down at an unconscious Kairn.

Feron smiled gently. “I think the five of us can handle one Mortal man.” He looked at Riven and me, and then Gerarda and Elaran. The only people in the room who knew the truth about Riven and his connection to Damien.

Pirmiith’s grasp tightened on his spear, though he still seemed doubtful.

I cleared my throat. “If it’s theshirak, we need to know.”

Pirmiith’s jaw pulsed, but he nodded, leaving with the others.

“I could have left.” Riven lowered his hood as the Elverin slipped through the portal.

No one contradicted him. The muscle in his neck tensed. We were not lying for him, but it was too close for Riven’s comfort.

“It will anger Damien more that you’re here,” I said. Anger was a useful emotion. Anything that threw Damien off his collected nature could be helpful. “But put your hood back on.”

Riven’s lips parted in confusion.

I swallowed but didn’t hold back. “He will see your green eyes as a weakness.”

It tore at me to see the hurt on Riven’s face. Not because he cared what Damien thought, but because me saying it meant I thought the same. I was happy that Riven could live the rest of his life without pain, that his sacrifice hadn’t meant he died that day in Elvera, but it was still a loss.

There were no other shadow wielders who could replace him, and that was all his brother would see. A gaping hole in our advantage.

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