Page 52 of Oracle of Ruin

She nods with a mocking salute before stalking back to her own room—but not before I sneak my hand into her cloak and snatch a rolled parchment. The map burns behind my back as her footsteps echo further and further down the hall.

The silence is the first thing I notice after the door snicks shut. Without Neris and Emi’s childish squabbles and Mavis’s sharp reprimands, the room feels empty. Cold.

Fighting the shivers that wrack my body, my feet force me towards the washing room again, where I run a hot bath. The water does little to warm the chill in my bones and muscles, but it is nothing compared to the first night I arrived.

I can still feel the phantom pains of the stones that tore the soles of my feet and my legs to shreds. The immobilizing chills as the cold stole my breath and slowed my heartbeat. The first bit of true warmth that night was when Mavis cut off Argon’s hand and his blood sprayed across my arm.

Then someone placed me in warm water and held me until the shuddering passed. A healer might have come in the night, I’m not entirely sure. I hope not, or I have another person to find and be indebted to. After seeing how things work in Mavis’s territory, I hope that healers here have free will over when they use their abilities, but I cannot be sure.

The fluffy towel wrapped around my shoulders does nothing for the shivers I can no longer contain. There is something so miserable about being in the cold for days on end, only for it to truly settle once you are in warmth. It is a cruel form of relief.

I bundle myself in blankets and form a nest of pillows in the bed once I’ve dressed myself. Then, for good measure, I pull a different cardigan on over my sleep shirt before snuggling in.

My drooping gaze trails over to the stack of books on my bedside table. Most of them have been read by now, and the majority have admittedly been filthy romances, but I still debate picking up a new one. Despite my wishes, my eyelids grow even heavier to the point where I cannot hold them open, and I succumb to the warm promises of sleep.

* * *

“We’re under attack!”

Someone’s urgent voice rouses me from my slumber. Panic pushes the sleep from my eyes. Attack? Who would attack? Rebels? Kijova? Or…

“The Noiteron,” someone gasps in the hallway.

Rowan. My Rowan. He came, he found me.

In under a minute, I pull on a thick pair of leggings and a sweater, my sock-clad feet finding their way into the black boots I’ve come to love. I brush past the servants shaking in fear, past the screaming civilians and charging soldiers. Someone shouts my name, tries to pull me back, but I can hear him now, hear his voice for the first time in weeks. I run, the promise of finding him at the end of my trek pushing my legs to pump faster, my feet moving in a flurry across the stone floors.

“Give her back to me or I swear to the gods—”

“You don’t even believe in the gods, Rowan.”

Mavis’s response causes me to stumble, the ground rising quickly to meet me as I lose my footing. Rowan and Mavis, in the same room. In my head, I always knew that the two used to be lovers, and in my head, I was okay with that. But now, my heart cracks slightly, parting to make room for jealousy and fear to claw their way in.

“You should start praying if you still do,” he snarls right as I rise to my feet and step out from the hallway.

Rowan looks exactly as I remember him, though a new, darker aura surrounds him. His already messy hair brushes across his brow, obscuring a good portion of his face in shadow. His knuckles are white as he grips his sword at his side, no need for him to draw it yet. His presence alone sent the majority of Mavis’s people running. Clad in all black, Rowan cuts an imposing figure—even armed with only a sword, the soldiers in the room slowly shrink away. His eyes darken with rage while Mavis stands calmly before him, her arms crossed over her bosom.

Behind them stand my friends, my family. Kya, cloaked in shadow as she always is, stands at attention with her espas drawn, rusty blood flecked across her form. Amír stands by her side, guns drawn, her right shoulder brushing against Blaine’s. His eyes are clear as he scans the room for any potential threat. Then Torin…

Torin, who is alive.

Torin, whose gaze locks with mine and his tired eyes light up. “Vera,” he breathes. And then he is running, running right into my arms as we both sink to our knees.

My fingers weave through his hair, pulling his head to my shoulder as I cannot decide between squeezing my eyes shut against the tears or taking in every bit of his appearance. His face breaks into a smile, a face I thought I’d never see again. I sob as both of his hands cup my face and he kisses my forehead.

Behind him, Blaine staggers, and Kya rushes to prop him back up.

We rise to our feet and slowly, I take step after step, my feet guiding me to Blaine. Rowan holds the line, his sword now extended to create distance between me and Mavis. My fingers trace along Blaine’s features, his straight nose and strong brow. Kya’s hand finds my other one, squeezing it until I move to embrace her. Even Amír offers a small smile before she places her finger on the trigger of her gun, raising it level with Mavis.

My brows furrow in confusion until strong arms wrap around my middle, Rowan’s face burying in my hair and the crook of my neck. His lips trail kisses across my neck and face until he pauses to inhale deeply. “I missed you,” he whispers, his voice low and gruff with want.

My knees buckle, but as I fall back, his grip tightens to hold me to him. And gods above, never have I felt more secure, so safe. So loved. I melt into his touch.

Mavis says nothing as we turn around, one of Rowan’s arms still securely fastened around my waist. His sword is drawn again before us all, the steel blade separating me from Mavis. Something feels wrong, though. My heart shouldn’t hurt. I shouldn’t feel anything but relief that I get to go home and yet…

Sorrow sinks its claws under my skin at the cool indifference in Mavis’s face. She doesn’t care, andIshouldn’t care. But I do.

“You traitor!” The scream reverberates through the cavern, rumbling the ground and jarring Mavis enough that her eyes widen a fraction. Emi rushes in, still clad in her night clothes, her red hair unbound and streaming behind her like a living flame. Neris runs behind her, trying and struggling to keep pace with the furious teen. I don’t know who I expected to find her glare honed on, but I didn’t expect it to be on me. More specifically, at where Rowan’s arm lays tight across my waist.

---