Page 80 of A Reflection of Dusk and Dawn

“What do you want?” I shove the rock back into my cloak, hiding it away.

“Nothing. I’m just wondering why you’re skulking alone in the dark.” Torchlight shimmers across her face as she steps inside without waiting for an invitation.

I lift my brow. “Are you concerned for my well-being?”

“Hardly. But if you’re losing your edge, that’s a problem for all of us.”

I smirk and lean against the table. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on your own duties.”

“Maybe I would if you were actually leading instead of whatever this is,” she says, gesturing at me.

I narrow my eyes. “Your audacity never ceases to amaze me.”

“And your arrogance never ceases to disappoint.” She fires back without missing a beat.

A muscle clenches in my jaw. “Careful, Kythara.”

“Or what?” Her gaze doesn’t waver as she continues. “You’ll have me burned like those villagers?”

Anger spikes through me. “Mind your tongue.”

She steps closer, the scent of lilacs trailing behind her. “You’re spiraling, Sander. May I call you Sander?” When I don’t respond, she continues. “Anyone can see that you’re spiraling.”

“What do you know about anything?” I lash out, not caring if I sound hostile. “You think you understand me?”

“I don’t need to understand you to see that you’re letting your demons control you.” Her voice softens just a fraction. “Whatever’s bothering you, fix it. We can’t afford a leader who’s lost in his own head.”

“I don’t answer to you.”

“Maybe not. But you owe it to those who follow you not to lead them off a cliff.” Strands of black hair slip over her shoulder as she tilts her head. “Or is this about proving something?”

“Get out,” I growl, no longer willing to play this game with her.

“Gladly.” She turns on her heel but pauses at the tent’s entrance. “And Sander, holding onto false gold won’t make it real.” Her eyes flick to the bulge in my cloak before she disappears into the night.

“Fuck!” The curse explodes from me as I grab the false gold and throw it across the room.

Sadly, it changes nothing. The voices in my head. The guilt. The undeniable truth.

They ring through my ears like a bell that never stops tolling—each echo saying what I do not want to hear: it’s impossible to bury the past when ghosts refuse to stay dead.

Determinedto forget about Annora and Kythara, I step out of my tent a short while later. Both women irritate me, but in different ways. Annora with her endless supply of moral righteousness, and Kythara with her sharp tongue.

Maybe Asha is still awake.

I turn toward her tent and push back the flap, but as I step inside, a chill runs through me. Asha’s fingers tangle in Titanus’ hair as he pulls her closer, their lips meeting in a heated kiss.

“Well,” I drawl, keeping my voice light. “Isn’t this cozy?”

They spring apart like guilty children. Titanus’ face remains stoic, but Asha’s eyes widen, and her mouth opens and closes, as if she’s desperately trying to find the right words.

“Aleksander—”

“—there’s no need to explain.” I lean against the tent pole, adopting an air of casual indifference I don’t feel. “Though, I must admit, I’m impressed by your ability to maintain appearances. Here I thought you had no room in your heart for romance.”

Asha’s eyes narrow. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Point out your hypocrisy?” A smirk pulls at my lips as I continue. “Or perhaps you simply meant you had no room for romance with me?”

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