Page 54 of Scorched By Fate

TWENTY-ONE

VYNE

High canyon walls concealed our resting place from above, but the narrow space would trap us if anyone tracked us on foot. The air was too still, too oppressive. A warning.

Khorlar settled Reika against a concave fold near the canyon’s edge, the shadows of burnt stone forming an uncertain cradle around her. She slept fitfully, the day’s strain having gutted what little strength remained. Khorlar sat sentinel beside her, his massive frame an immovable barrier.

It was a good position—secure enough to rest, with clear visibility for watching the canyon’s labyrinthine offshoots. The kind of place that would have let me relax, once—before all of this.

Before her.

Selene moved ahead, careful and sure on the uneven ground. The strap of her pack dug into her shoulder, and her jaw ticked with tension. She wouldn’t complain. Not aloud. But I saw.

She set the bag down but stared at it for a long moment, like she was worried it might disappear. After how far we'd come to get it, I could understand.

I approached her, my hands itching to touch, but I could feel Khorlar’s watchful eye. We needed privacy, needed a moment alone. “The canyon's clear for now. Let's find a place to bed down. Khorlar has the girl and first watch.”

Selene eyed me, more intuitive than I was prepared for. She studied me like she was calculating angles, risks, vulnerabilities—not from our enemies. Mine.

“Is something wrong with right here?” she asked.

I took the opening. “My side is bothering me.” The admission was clunky, but her focus snapped immediately to me.

Healer's instincts—merciful and maddening.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

I blew out a breath and gestured toward a side passage just ahead. The fissure was painted in an uneven glow by some mysterious reflection of the suns. “It’s nothing serious.”

Selene didn’t respond. Words weren’t necessary; her expression had already shifted to a mask of calm authority.

She followed me down the offshoot, small enough to force us to flatten against the warm stone to fit through. She didn’t complain, her lips a tight line as the space opened ahead of us—a shallow alcove carved into the volcanic rock, hidden well beneath the canyon’s natural shadows. Safe enough. For now.

And private.

I had to hide my grin.

“Alright,” she said, dropping her pack with a muffled clink as tension cracked loose from her shoulders. She turned toward me. “Sit.”

I arched a brow.

She bristled. “I mean it, Vyne. Let me see.”

Shaking my head, I lowered myself onto a curved outcropping of stone and let my wings flare for balance. The warmth of the rock pressed into me, soothing muscles I wouldn’tadmit were aching. Her eyes flicked toward the way I held my arm against my ribs, how my wing shifted stiffly.

“Where does it hurt?” she demanded.

I flexed my arm, tilting to expose the stretch near my armpit—the shallow line of torn scales where the edge of an Ignarath talon had glanced me. The graze wasn’t deep, barely more than a persistent sting and a sticky patch of dried blood. A minor wound. Negligible.

For Selene? It may as well have been catastrophic.

She sucked in a harsh breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t relevant,” I murmured, watching her.

“You’re bleeding,” she said flatly, daring me to argue.

“Not badly.”

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