Page 124 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Enough,” Legion growls, his voice strained.
I need to get out of here. My wild eyes dart around, searching for escape. I can’t be like this around so many people; it will cause chaos.
“Return to your camp,” Legion tells me. “Styx will see to Bodin. We’ll isolate you and tell everyone you’re unwell.”
My eyes sting with relief. Legion places his hands on my shoulders. His touch sends a jolt through me, igniting nerve endings I didn't know existed. I see the struggle in his eyes—duty warring with desire.
“I might have my memories,” he murmurs, eyes searching mine, “but there’s still so much about you we don’t know. You need to tell us about these things, Willow.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
His jaw clenches, and I feel his desire thickening the air. “Is there anything else?”
Mortified, I shake my head. “I’ll go. Thank you.”
I let the silencing shield drop before he can question me further and stride back to camp, feeling like my skin is too tight. I want to rip my clothes off and roll in the snow, but it’s still green here. Maybe we’ll be lucky with rain tonight. It drizzled for half the day. I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t hear someone calling until they grab my arm, “Where are you going so fast?”
On instinct, I shove him.
“What the hell, Willow?” Alfie stumbles back.
“Sorry,” I mumble and keep walking. “Didn’t realize it was you.”
His footsteps follow. “Wait.”
“Not the time, Alfie.” I wave him off over my shoulder.
The cold air balms my flushed skin as I break into a jog, providing momentary relief from the inferno inside me. The scents of the camp—woodsmoke, unwashed male bodies, and the crisp winter air—assault my heightened senses, making me dizzy.
My feet pound against the damp ground, each impact jolting my overheated body. I’m aware of eyes on me as I sprint past other campsites, but I can’t bring myself to care.
I hate this. I hate this feeling so much.
The heat pulses through me, reminding me how different I am—not quite human, not fully fae. In moments like these, I feel like I belong nowhere. I haven’t felt this different since Crystal City.Freak, they used to call me.
As I weave through the camp, I notice heads turning and nostrils flaring. A young soldier stumbles as I pass, his eyes widening. An older woman pulls her partner close, whispering furiously. The air feels charged as if a lightning strike is imminent.
What if people start asking questions? Most have kept to themselves, but our troop has been opening up the past few nights. I’ve seen Becky look at my ears on more than one occasion. Now that I know her secret, she might feel confident enough to ask about mine. If I tell them where I’m from, then I’ll have to explain why I have no magic, and then—a hand lands on my shoulder and wrenches me around.
Miguel.
It all happens so fast. One minute, he’s about to offer me the bowl I left, and the next, Alfie’s fist meets his face. Blood spurts from a nose. Soup flies.
“Miguel!” I gasp, trying to help him, but Alfie steps in my way.
“You okay?” he asks me with a wild look.
“You hit Miguel!”
“He attacked you.”
“He was giving me soup!”
Behind him, groaning on the ground, Miguel clutches his nose. I try to push past Alfie, but he crushes me to his body, hand cupping the back of my head, fingers fisting in my hair. He buries his nose in my neck and drags in a deep inhale. “Fuck, Willow. I forgot how good you smell. I’ve been dreaming about this for years.”
I freeze.
I’m not afraid. This is my warning system, telling me it’s time to fight. But I can’t add to the drama unfolding. This can be salvaged.
