Page 68 of Oracle of Ruin

But this is real life, regardless of the seemingly fantastical monsters that haunt our waking moments. Hell is here and it has brought all its pets. Rowan will never understand that weight, even if he claims accountability. Even as he gets to watch me break apart each day and fade before his eyes, even in sleep. He will never understand. None of them will.

My fury chases me to our room, where I half expect to find him waiting. He isn’t, loyal even in his hurt. I slip my sweater from my shoulders first, relishing the frigid air that spills over my exposed flesh. Goosebumps prickle along my skin and chase the sweater downwards, then my trousers, greedily engulfing my skin as the clothes give way. I stand naked in my room, letting the cold bite to my bones and ground my feet to the broken floorboards. I wash my face the same way, my motions stiff and mechanical before I finally slip into a nightgown and creak the door open.

The chill guides me towards a door I haven’t dared open since arriving. The night is silent save for the crisp cracking of the wooden floorboards beneath my feet. I step on any loose boards I can find as I approach Kya and Amír’s room. The walls here are thicker than the cloth tents and open sky we had on the run, but not thick enough. My hand lingers over the brass doorknob. I can feel the heat start to slip back into my bones, sorrow chasing it the rest of the way there. I grasp the handle firmly and push the door open.

“Come in,” Kya calls, even as I step inside.

My arm hits the door in my carelessness, a bruise already blossoming. I push it aside with a small flourish and enter the dim light. Amír has lit a candle beside their bed and neither of them bother to rise from their bed as I enter.

“Here comes everyone’s favorite tyrant,” Amír groans. Her head hits their headboard with a heavy thunk.

Kya jabs her ribs with her elbow before rising to greet me. Before she even reaches me, the Vari woman stops and sighs softly. She doesn’t ask—she doesn’t need to. “I’ll grab a pillow.” She smiles tightly.

Her lover slams a pillow onto her face and groans, the dramatics eliciting a small laugh from the assassin. Amír sinks further into their bed, her arms outstretched in a momentary softness. The two women whisper to each other in sweet voices until Amír says something that has Kya blushing red to her ears.

The assassin laces her nimble fingers through mine as we walk back to my room, a pillow stuffed under one arm, making small talk and commenting on things like the frost on the windows. She says nothing about the tightness of my mouth or the fact that Rowan is gods know where. Knowing the assassin, she probably knows about our fight—hell, our whole inn probably heard it.

Like I said, thin walls.

Kya settles herself on my bed, claiming the spot closest to the entrance. I try to hide how my shoulders slump in relief at the comfort her presence brings, but those golden eyes pierce through my thoughts anyway. The assassin says nothing about the arguments that transpired mere hours ago. Says nothing about the threat of doom hanging over us or my proposed self-sacrifice. She just lazily drapes an arm across my waist before making a show of placing a dagger under her pillow.

“If you’re going to try and cuddle me, just don’t put your arm under the pillow,” she teases lightly, earning a small laugh from my lips that breaks the silence of the night. A smaller part of me hopes that Rowan can hear it, that he knows that I am fine. Completely fine, even without him.

I take the time to snuggle in closer, pointedly not sticking my hand under her pillow.

The assassin brushes her nose against mine, her breath tickling my upper lip.

“Can I expect Amír to come storm in here at any point? Or maybe a stray bullet on my pillow?”

“Nothing with Amír is stray,” Kya offers with a wink. The threadbare blanket shifts as she wriggles beneath it to intertwine our legs. “Gods, it’s cold.”

“Your feet are freezing!”

In response, Kya allows her toes to dig into the soft of my calf and I squeal. The Vari woman shoves her freezing hand onto the back of my neck, as well, before finally retreating once she has sapped all of my bodily warmth.

“I should’ve believed the rumors about the Nightwalker’s assassin. Your torture methods are inhumane.”

“You should hear what they say aboutyouthese days.”

“And whatarethey saying exactly?”

“Oh, you know, you’re Rowan and Mavis’s whore. It’s a joint custody situation.” She blows a stray hair from my face. “And that you’re conspiring with the king to burn the world down.” Her hand reaches out again to trace small patterns across my arm. The motions are precise, yet smooth and motherly.

I giggle softly at the absurdity of it all. If only the people out there knew the truth. Mavis kidnapped me and her men dragged me naked through the woods, while Rowan…

Rowan’s words make me feel anything but filthy or whorish.

I turn my back to her and face the wall as to hide the hazy blush coating my cheeks. “What do they say of the rest of us?” And then when she hesitates, “Come on, humor me.”

I can hear the telltale popping sound of Kya pursing her lips, but she relents nonetheless. “Derrín isn’t my brother, but rather a Vari genius we kidnapped and force to make lethal weapons for us. Rowan is a womanizing murderer who bathes in blood and steals women from their husbands. Amír is a succubus that Rowan cut a deal with through the sacrifice of a hundred virgins. She is a soulless vessel with the war abilities of a god. Oh, and I am secretly a man. A little insulting that that’s the best they could come up with for me, but those are the tame ones, as ridiculous as they may be.”

I stifle a snort. “Amír’s sounds accurate enough.”

“Try not to fault her too much,” Kya whispers with a faraway tone. “She’s a dreamer born in the body of a nightmare.”

My brows furrow as I try to think of Amír dreaming of something other than my head on the wall. Something tells me her dreams smell like gunpowder.

Kya only fixes me with a sad smile. “I think she’s beautiful because of it.”

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