Page 130 of Kissed By the Gods
“Come meet Bri!” he says.
My eyes snap back up to the little girl. Bri. Seb mentioned her in his letter. But she has little interest in me. She’s walked right up to Vaeloria and is running her hands over the winged war horse’s chest with a smile.
“You’re much prettier than Cairwyn,” she tells Vaeloria. Then she giggles and puts her finger over her lips in ahush hushmotion. “But don’t tell Cairwyn I said that. He’s sensitive.”
“Who is Cairwyn?” I ask, and I’m surprised by how calm my voice sounds—how normal it feels to speak, when nothing else about this moment is.
The girl turns back to me, startled. It’s as if she’d forgotten Leo and I were even here. Her gaze slides over me, lingering on the scythe slung across my back, the daggers strapped to my thighs. She studies me with the wide-eyed solemnity of a child raised around power—cautious, but not afraid.
“Cairwyn is my father’s faravar,” she says matter-of-factly. She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders, pride blooming across her face. “He’s the best one there is.”
Then, with a glance at Vaeloria, she softens. As if realizing she might’ve offended someone important, she casts the winged beast a sheepish smile and gently pats her leg—just high enough for her little arm to reach.
My eyes drift back to Leo, who’s watching Bri like she’s the sun and the snow and every adventure rolled into one. This entire scene seems like a strange dream. I crouch back down to Leo and gather his hands in mine. “You’ve grown so much, Leo!”
He stands even taller, and grins. “I’m learning to fight, Leina!”
I resist a wince at that. He’s so proud. But no child should have to learn how to fight, and it stirs that familiar anger again. I look around, taking in the Weeping Forest that wraps around us, and there—through a break in the trunks—I catch a curl of smoke. A camp.
I don’t know why the Veil brought me here. I don’t know what it wants. But for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not angry about it.
“Leo,” I ask. “Is Seb at your camp?”
Leo nods furiously and grasps my hand tightly. “Yes! It’s only a little ways from here. Let’s go see him. He’ll be so happy.”
But Bri grabs my arm, stopping me before I can take a step. “You don’t have that kind of time,” she says.
I start to brush her off—what does a child know of any of this?—but the tendrils have wrapped around my ankles.
“Oh gods, no!” I drop to my knees and gather Leo into in my chest again. “I need more time!” I demand, though to whom I’m not sure. The gods. The Veil. Anyone who might be listening.
Bri touches my face, and her eyes aren’t the laughing, care-free eyes of a child anymore. They’re not old and wise, they’re just … timeless. Gooseflesh covers my arms.
“Don’t be afraid of the Veil,” she says.
A shiver runs down my spine, gooseflesh rising on my arms. How does she know aboutanyof this?
Then she sings.
“So, fear no dark, and fear no sky, The Veil will catch you when you fly.”
My breath hitches. “Oh, my gods,” I whisper. That song—it’s the lullaby my mother used to sing when we were small, when the nights were long and cold.
The dark tendrils slip higher, coiling around my wrists now.
Leo clings tighter to my neck. “Don’t worry, Leina,” he whispers into my ear. “If Bri says you don’t have to be afraid, then you don’t. She’s always right.”
I want to believe them. I do.
Bri tilts her head as if something is whispering to her out of earshot. Her eyes flutter closed. She turns slightly, like she’s listening. But there’s nothing—no wind, no voice, no sign of what she’s hearing. Just the soft breath of the trees, and the tightening pull of the Veil.
“My father says it’s smart to be afraid sometimes,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “To be cautious.” Her voice is low, thoughtful. “You should be wary of hammers, Leina. But don’t fear the Veil.”
My skin prickles, as I think about Tyrston and his hammer. How does she know about that? Then she opens her eyes again, and they’re bright and young and entirelyher—the child I met only moments ago. She flashes me a grin and turns to Vaeloria, who’s remained unnaturally still. Bri steps forward and lays a gentle hand along Vaeloria’s gleaming coat. “I’ll see you again, Vaeloria,” she whispers. “You have time for one more hug, Leo.”
A man with dark hair and Bri’s grey eyes bursts through the trees, sword at the ready. “Bri! Leo!” he shouts. His eyes land on me and they’re hard. Almost feral. He brings his sword up. I tense. This must be Aelric.
Leo wraps his arms around me, fiercely—so fiercely I think maybe,just maybe,he could anchor me here. That the warmth of his hug might be enough to tether me to this place.
