Page 118 of A Storm in Every Heart
I run up the dunes and across the rocky cliff and along the path toward the garden wall. Salt crusts my lips, my calves ache, and the siren’s ethereal voice echoes over and over again through my mind.
Never be whole. Always lonely. I broke him; it’s what we do.
I shove my way through the iron gate and stumble into a jog, tugging the heavy wool blanket tight around my shoulders, blinking away tears that are half wind, half panic, and make for the palace up ahead.
I can already hear the castle kitchen stirring in the distance, the clatter of pans and the bark of orders, and further off, the rhythmic thud of horses’ hooves on packed dirt. I keep to the trees surrounding the lush garden, moving as fast as I dare,heart hammering my ribs like it’s trying to punch through and escape.
I’m so intent on avoiding the gardeners that I almost miss the sound—a familiar shout, sharp and surprised. “Odessa!”
I freeze, heels digging into the mulch, the blanket bunched in my fists. Horror washes over me.
He cannot be here right now. This can’t be happening.
But it is.
I turn slowly and see Kastian riding toward me down the path astride a sleek dappled mare, his hair mussed, his coat half-buttoned.
Our eyes meet, and he grins. Before I can react, he’s already vaulting off the horse and closing the distance between us in five long strides. He stops so close I can smell the wood and citrus scent clinging to his skin. “Good morning,” he says, still grinning widely.
I don’t return his smile. “What are you doing out here?”
He blinks in surprise. His eyes lock on mine, and in an instant, his easy smile flickers, replaced by something wary and sharp.
He gestures toward the horse, like the answer is self-evident. “I always go riding early in the morning.” His gaze drops to the tangle of my hair, the nightgown plastered damp to my legs, and finally to the blanket, where my knuckles are bone-white and shaking. “But maybe I should be asking what you’re doing here.”
There’s a brief, horrible pause in which I try to invent a plausible lie and come up with nothing. I consider telling him the truth—about the siren, about Lyra, and about every horrible thought racing through my head. But I can’t.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say finally—at least it’s the truth, if not the whole truth.
He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t tend to sleep well either, but usually I get dressed before wandering around the castle.”
I feel my face flush. “Right…I wasn’t thinking.”
He studies me, and I realize how ridiculous I must look: bare-legged, hair wild, salt drying in streaks on my cheeks.
Kastian shrugs off his black coat and drapes it over my shoulders, right on top of the blanket. “There,” he murmurs.
I try to protest, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I clutch the coat tighter, half grateful, half furious at how easily he sees through me. “Thanks.”
His smile reappears. “Go back inside and change. I’ll wait for you here.”
“Why?” I blurt out, not even trying to soften the sharpness of it.
He looks slightly confused. “I thought we might go to breakfast together. Did you have other plans this morning?”
I want to say yes; I want to say I will go with you anywhere, even if it is only to breakfast, but I can’t forget the siren’s warning. Can’t forget the icy certainty that nothing good can come of this.
I shake my head and force a bitter laugh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Kastian’s brows draw together, and he looks at me with such raw confusion that it almost hurts. “Did—did I say something wrong?”
I force a smile. “Not at all.”
He steps closer, hand rising as if to steady me, but I sidestep his reach, hugging myself with both arms. My skin prickles with awareness of him, and the distance I’m putting between us is both a relief and a punishment.
He lets his arm fall, fingers curling in a frustrated half-fist. “Odessa,” he says, and this time there’s steel under the concern. “Seriously. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
