Page 88 of Fear the Flames
“He’s dead,” Cayden says, mirroring my own thoughts. I can’t manage to form words, so I just hold onto Cayden’s reassuring expression. “You can sink into a frenzy to prove it to yourself, and I’ll dig you out of whatever blood-filled hole you dig yourself into. I’m here for whatever you need.” His thumb brushes against my cheek. The gentle gesture smears the blood that coats us both. “He’s dead, Elowen.”
It’s the hand that held me in a passionate embrace.
It’s the hand that spilled the blood of my enemy, with my knives that he wears.
It’s the hand that keeps me from disappearing into my mind right now.
“He’s dead,” I echo his words and let the knife drop out of my hand. It clatters to the ground, splattering blood onto our knees.
“Your brain caught him, and your hand killed him,” he speaks to me softly, but there is nothing weak in his tone.
I stare into his blood-splattered face as we kneel in the puddle of my abuser’s blood. We did this. We killed him. He’s a threat I’ll never have to worry about looming over my shoulder again. When I’m walking in a market, I’ll never have to worry that I saw him in the crowd and sink into a dark corner to have a panic attack. He may have started this war between us, but I ended it. He can’t hurt me ever again.
Cayden reaches down to pick my knife up from the floor and holds it out to me, hilt first. He’s giving me the choice of how I end this night. He won’t judge me. I reach my hand toward the hilt without breaking eye contact and sheath it on my thigh. Robick doesn’t get any more breakdowns from me.
“I want to leave,” I say firmly. Cayden nods his head and helps me to my feet. “I’m sorry you had to see this,” I look toward Ryder. Cayden stiffens but doesn’t cut into our conversation.
“Never apologize for a kill you deserved to take.” Ryder shakes his head, a dark grimace contorting his face. “I would have done the same thing.” His deep brown eyes meet mine in earnest, and I know he’s not lying to me. I nod my head as my throat tightens. Cayden’s hand threads through my hair and he presses his lips into the side of my head.
“The two of you can wash your hands and faces there. I’m going to find Finnian so we can leave here as soon as possible.” Ryder points to the rusty sink, taking one last look at me before turning away and heading up the stairs.
Cayden presses a hand into the small of my back and ushers me over to the sink. Blood coats the squeaky dial after he turns it, and cool water rushes through the spout. He gently tries to pry my bloody hands off the edge of the sink that I hold in an iron grip as I stare at my face in the broken mirror. His hands wrap around mine, and his thumbs rub circles on my palms. The blood that coats both of us mingles together, but I keep our joined hands away from the water. I see him turn his head toward me in the mirror, waiting for my next move or to tell him where my head is at. My eyes dance between us, both covered in the blood of my enemy. Proof of the cruelty we are capable of is written in crimson against our skin. Even after it’s washed off, it will forever linger.
We look like the Lady and Lord of Revenge, Retribution, and Vengeance.
I take one hand away from our sticky embrace and turn the faucet off. Turning my body to face Cayden, but my eyes brush past him to where Robick kneels, crumpled in my own red river of revenge.
He’s dead, I echo in my mind once again, this time letting it truly sink in.
Cayden reaches out his hand and gently turns my face toward him. “Talk to me, angel,” he quietly urges. His thumb continues to smear blood across the back of our joined hands.
“I want to ride to the border like this.” I peer into his eyes, awaiting some level of repulsion or rejection, but he relays none. He just quietly waits for me to continue as he lightly caresses my blood-caked face, giving me enough touch to keep me present in this moment. His eyes give me a silent promise that he’s not going to let me sink into my mind without my consent. I wonder how many times he’s disappeared into a frenzy with nobody to pull him out.
“Word of you and I riding through Vareveth covered in blood will travel fast, and we can make a statement.” I swallow my nerves. “I want my enemies to know what fate awaits them if they make an attempt on my life. I want those who have won against me in the past to know that I don’t plan on losing again.”
Pride shines in Cayden’s eyes, and my chest feels full again. The look he’s giving me gives me hope. It makes me feel like I don’t have to face every threat alone because he’ll be right here—unjudging, understanding, and just as bloody as me.
“Your enemies are my enemies,” he restates his original vow to me. Something flutters in my chest again.
“And yours are mine.” I will get just as bloody for him as he has for me. He drops his hand from my cheek and squeezes the hand he holds.
“Nobody wins harder than someone who once lost everything,” he says. I have the privilege of witnessing a rare glimpse into his vulnerable side that he normally keeps under lock and key. I can tell from his tight lips that he doesn’t wish to indulge me further. I’ve exposed part of myself tonight, but I won’t press him for more, no matter how much I want to. Vulnerability is something that should come naturally to a person, but when you’ve lived your entire life filled with agony and pain, it’s hard to associate vulnerability with something other than weakness. I’ll take his few words and appreciate them as if he wrote me a novel. “Let’s get to the border and begin the heist, Queen Elowen.”
PartThree
The Heist
ChapterThirty-Six
“You won’t be able to bring a tent,” Saskia mutters, chewing on her bottom lip and staring down at several maps laid out in front of us. She’s been working on plotting a safe route to the castle for Cayden and me based on the intelligence she has gathered through her spies. Her spies know nothing of the mission, but she saved every report they have ever given her since she became the head of intelligence. “What route did you take when you left Imirath?”
My mind conjures the icy and treacherous path we took, “We went through the mountains.”
“The mountains?” Saskia’s eyes widen in shock. “Hardly anyone survives a trek through the Etril.”
“It’s the shortest route we could take.” I shrug a shoulder. “The risk was worth it.”
The Seren Mountains stretch all the way down the continent, but the Etril Forest resides between Imirath and Vareveth. It’s another section of unclaimed god land. Not only are the mountains freezing, but beasts also lurk within their icy peaks. It’s a risk for anyone to seek shelter there, let alone a defenseless child that was never allowed outside before that night. My guards opened their arms to me to offer me a shred of warmth, but I told them I would rather freeze than be close to an Imirath soldier. The whole thing felt like a sick joke, just another way to torture my mind. I left Imirath in the warmer months of the year. I can’t imagine the temperatures of the mountains now.
