Page 49 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
I shake my head.
“Crimson, I miss home,” she murmurs, eyes downcast. “I can’t go back yet, but I wish . . .”
“What?” Tell me so I can remove the sadness from your eyes.
“I wish I didn’t leave without saying goodbye properly.” She scratches her head and exhales. “I should have said goodbye. Should have felt confident enough to come here even if my father didn’t want me to. My mother knew I would. She approved.”
A feeling washes through me, both unsettling and familiar. “Would you like to speak with them?”
Hope glimmers in her eyes. “You would help me make a blood-bond communication through the water?”
I blink. “I’m not sure what that is. My question was simply curiosity.”
“Oh.”
Speaking with family outside of Avorlorna could pose a risk, especially considering I remember nothing about such dangers but . . . she is suffering.
“Perhaps,” I say, “if you tell me what to do, I can help.”
Too overwhelmed with emotions, she simply nods.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, trying to catch more of that familiar feeling, but when Willow next speaks, her sadness shifts to something closer to home.
“Colin is too young to die,” she murmurs, searching my eyes. “You saved him. Thank you.”
“You might think differently when you learn what a Phantom does.”
Her tone drops, a hint of steel underlying the question. “Why?”
“Eat your food, Calamity.” I shove a berry into her mouth. The soft brush of her lips against my fingertips sends an unexpected jolt through my body.
Willow’s eyes widen, but she accepts the berry, chewing thoughtfully. Her gaze never leaves mine, a silent challenge in those golden depths.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she says softly after swallowing.
I consider deflecting again, but something in her expression stops me.
“Phantoms,” I begin, choosing my words carefully, “are essential to our operations. They gather information, infiltrate enemy lines, and sometimes . . . eliminate threats before they become problems.”
Willow’s brow furrows. “So, you’ve basically recruited Colin to be a spy. And possibly an assassin.”
I nod, watching her reaction closely.
“I suppose in times of war, such roles are necessary,” she says slowly. “But he’s so young . . .”
“Youth can be an advantage in this line of work,” I explain. “People underestimate the young and let their guard down. And Colin has already shown an aptitude for stealth.”
Willow nods, but conflict clouds her eyes. “I understand the logic, but it doesn’t make accepting it any easier. He should be . . . I don’t know, learning a trade, falling in love, living a normal life.”
Her words stir something within me. “Normal is a luxury we can’t afford, Calamity. Not with the threats we face.”
She looks at me, really looks at me. “And what about you, Bodin? What’s normal for you?”
The question catches me off guard. Flashes of blood, violence, and duty flicker through my mind, interspersed withnewer, softer memories—all of them centered around the female before me.
“I . . .” I begin, then falter.
Willow reaches out, her hand resting lightly on my arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have pried.”
