Page 56 of Rhapsody of Ruin
I woke to the mountain air pressing against my skin, cold enough to burn, but not cold enough to drive away the memory of her warmth. Elowyn lay curled at my side, cloak tangled with mine, her breath a steady rhythm against my chest. My arm had tightened around her in sleep, reflex, instinct, or need, I couldn’t say. What I did know was that I hadn’t wanted to let her go.
The brazier had long since died. Ash crusted its rim, the faint smell of char still clinging to the stones. Beyond the ledge, the mist shifted in coils, glowing faintly as dawn pressed against the horizon. Above us, the Shroud hung like a veil stretched too thin, shimmering with restless silver.
For a long moment I simply watched her.
Her hair had slipped free of its pins in the night. Dark strands caught the pale light, gleaming against her cheek. Her mask was gone, cast aside without thought, and in its absence I saw her face unguarded, soft in sleep, utterly without artifice. She was breathtaking like this. Not a pawn. Not a weapon. Just Elowyn.
And that terrified me more than anything.
Because I wanted her. Not for alliance. Not for politics. Not for survival. I wanted her for herself, and that was a hunger I couldn’t afford.
My hand moved of its own accord, brushing a lock of hair from her face. She stirred, lashes fluttering, and then those pale eyes opened, fixing on me. For a moment neither of us spoke. The only sound was the wind tugging at the cliffs and the faint crackle of a stone shifting under the weight of frost.
“You’re awake,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.
“So are you.”
She smiled faintly, the kind of smile that could break a man in two. “We should talk before the world claims us again.”
I pushed myself up, letting the chill bite so I wouldn’t forget where we were. I fetched the parcel of bread Torian had left in the satchel and broke it, handing her the larger piece. She accepted without hesitation, tearing it with delicate fingers before biting in.
The taste was plain, coarse, but grounding. It reminded me of Emberhold kitchens, bread baked by soldiers on iron plates, eaten with burned fingers and laughter too brittle to last.
I chewed slowly, watching her.
“Today we make our ask,” she said, matter-of-fact. But beneath it, I heard the tremor. Not fear. Anticipation. “Food for truth.”
“Food for truth,” I echoed.
The words were heavier than any vow I had sworn.
We went over the plan once more, her voice steady, mine low and deliberate. She would lead in council, force the reading of the gloss into record. I would follow with the grain counts, demand trade routes be opened. Alone, either could be dismissed. Together, the court would struggle to deny us.
But when I looked at her, I thought of more than council. I thought of last night. Of her body pressed to mine, the fire we’d made against the cold. I thought of how she had whispered my name like it was something worth saving.
I tore another bite of bread, jaw tightening. “If they try to turn it back on us?”
Her eyes burned silver. “Then we remind them who suffers when they delay. Their comfort is not more sacred than survival.”
Pride rose in my chest, sharp as steel. “You’ll make a fine queen of Ash.”
She tilted her head, lips curving. “You’ll make a tolerable consort of Wonder.”
I snorted, but the laugh lodged half in my throat. She had a way of making my pride sting and soothe all at once.
And then the world shifted.
A ripple ran across the Shroud above us.
It began as a shimmer, harmless as heat-haze. But then it fractured. A jagged seam split across the veil, silver and white light flaring in a line that stretched from horizon to horizon. It lasted only a breath, but in that instant, the mountain seemed to tremble beneath us.
I froze.
Elowyn’s breath hitched. Her hand found mine, fingers tightening with sudden desperation.
The fissure vanished as quickly as it had come, the Shroud smoothing back into its false calm. But I knew what I had seen.
“We thought it had decades,” I said hoarsely.
