Page 79 of What Is Dark Within Me

“Nicolas, please. You’ve asked me to trust you and I have. Now, trustme. You said it yourself: no more lies.”

He glanced at her, taking his eyes off the road. The mountains were growing closer. Soon, they would touch the bottom of the cloud bank, and the two would blend into a roiling combination of snow and shadow. She was surprised when he pulled onto the road’s shoulder and turned off the engine.

“Garm, go stretch your legs,” Nicolas said. The dog’s head shot up from the back seat, where he was using a crushed box as a pillow.

Garm tilted his head, but it seemed he knew better than to question that tone of voice. He opened the door with almost-human hands, slipping out of the car and under the wire fence by the side of the road. Beyond it, a few cows attempted to graze on chunks of frost-bitten grass.

Nicolas dropped his hands from the steering wheel. With the car’s heater turned off, their breaths fogged the glass, obscuring the landscape beyond.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” Aleja said. She’d never been one to believe ignorance was bliss, but there was something so stricken about Nicolas’s expression that she knew whatever he said next could change her. Change whatever bridge they’d built between them, even if its foundations were lies, obsessions, and regrets.

“The war was almost over,” he began. “And we were losing. We’d been the underdogs to begin with, but until then, we’d held our ground through a clever strategy and sheer will. In a last-ditch effort, you suggested a wild move; that we pour all our resources into one final, full-scale attack, while the Astraelis prepared for their last push into our territory.”

“What happened?” she asked, closing her eyes. She tried to remember it, to picture what it would have been like to observe a battlefield, knowing she might be sending loved ones to their deaths—and knowing they would also die if she didn’t. No images came, but she smelled a hint of distant smoke, of scorched flesh. She imagined blackened tree stumps and bones, like a dug-up cemetery all around them.

“The short version of the story is that it worked. It was a relentless few days, but in the end, the Astraelis surrendered. But they’d taken a handful of prisoners. It was as if, in the midst of battle, they changed their priority from winning to capturingyou.”

Soft snow began to fall. It wasn’t enough to stick to the road, but as flakes gathered on the windshield, the glass became more impenetrable.

“The Astraelis hated me, but their feelings toward you went beyond that. You’d decimated their forces in one fiery swoop. They offered a deal: they would execute you for war crimes, call off their reinforcements, and declare a permanent ceasefire. The death of one Dark Saint and the entire bloody business would be over. I… I got on my knees to beg for your life in front of their leader and she laughed in my face. They knew what you meant to me. They knew it would mean my defeat, even if we were coming to a truce.”

“You didn’t take the deal,” Aleja said. She gave a dry swallow and her mouth filled with the taste of iron.

“No. Worse. I accepted it. By the Second’s laws, it meant my hands were tied. Their foot soldiers retreated as we negotiated the terms. Then, when only their highest-ranking officers remained, I slaughtered them the moment they lowered their guard and I took you back with me. With their commanders gone, they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—retaliate. The war could have ended with the death of one, but I’d ensured any truce would be temporary. And I had broken a bargain.”

Her anger was not only her own, but that of the woman inside her. She pounded at the barrier between them as her nails ripped and her fingers bled. Aleja wanted to speak, but knew that if she tried, she would scream. So, she stayed silent, letting wrath bubble inside her until she had to clench her fists to keep them from erupting in fire.

“When the Second called to me from his place under the mountain, I knew I was going to be punished. A return to my human life in a time and place I could not choose, after which I would rot like everyone else. But you know the rest of the story. On the evening that was supposed to be my last in the Hiding Place, you snuck away and bargained your life for mine, for reasons I might never know.”

“It’s not all aboutyou,” she spat. This time, an ember flew from her fingertips, coming to rest on her left, where it burned a hole in the seat’s upholstery. “I’m the one who was captured. I’m the one whose death could have meant something—whose death could have ended the war forever. And I’m the one in a mortal body, rushing to confront a Dark Saint while my best friend is in terrible danger. How are you any better than Roland?”

He didn’t answer. There was a break in the static—a hint of a song in a minor key that was gone after a few notes, like a ghost passing through the car.

“Drive, Knowing One,” she said, her voice low. She tried to smother her anger as Taddeas had taught her. To store it and let the power build until she could turn it into something useful.

Nicolas turned to look at her, and she made the mistake of catching his eyes. The expression passing across his features was brief, but she knew the look: devastation. And unlike every other time she had seen his facade crack, the darkness in his features lingered. It was a relief when Garm ran back from the field, where he’d been examining a brown calf.

“Aleja, I—” he began.

“Don’t. We should keep moving. The sun will be down soon.”

* * *

“We’reabout a mile and a half away. If Roland has scouts, they’ll notice us if we get closer,” Garm said, snapping Aleja out of her thoughts. It had been dark for hours. There was nothing except for the occasional flash of an animal’s eyes as it darted across the road.

Aleja pushed her way out of the car, grateful to be back in the cold. It had taken everything within her to keep from demanding more answers from Nicolas, some explanation. She’d always been told the Knowing One was vicious and unforgiving, but she’d started believing he was her… What? Her friend? Her lover?

Maybe her grandmother had been right to warn her. And for once, Aleja’s inner voice had nothing to say.

“Is there a path?” Aleja asked Garm, as he shook snowflakes off his muzzle.

“Yes, but his people travel it often. There is a game trail. It’s poorly maintained, but far less used, especially at night.”

“We’ll take that one,” she said, without waiting for input from Nicolas. He hadn’t said a word to her in hours, which was for the best, if she didn’t want to accidentally burn her car down.

Nicolas summoned a small flare as they entered the trees. It did little to help, even with her enhanced senses, but she was hesitant to dig the flashlight out of her bag. It would be like a beacon that screamedWe’re coming for you, Roland.

---