Page 7 of Vicious Is My Throne

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ANARIA

The road to Warrington Hollow was every bit as dusty as I remembered, so after the first few hours we diverted to a trail through the forest, filled with branches that slapped my face and gorse that tore at my ankles.

I didn’t care. I couldn’t feel a single thorn or briar because the boots and the leathers were the most comfortable things I’d ever worn.

We were out of that dusty stone city, out from behind those smothering walls.

Overhead, I caught glimpses of Simon’s golden wings, bright flashes of color through the dark latticework of branches.

Part of me wanted to soar up there with him.

Seedpods rained down over us, whirling like small birds, heart-shaped and pale green against the dark forest floor. I looked again for that flash of gold, the keening cry that everything was clear up ahead.

Soon the woods would turn colder.

The trees would twist into unnatural shapes by the wind and harsh weather.

But here, before we began the climb into the foothills, the air was as heavy as a midsummer day, holding more than its share of moisture. I turned my face up. I hadn’t set foot outside the Keep in weeks and the gentle, humid breeze felt like a kiss from the forest.

“We’ll hit rain before dark,” Tavion commented, tightening his furs around his shoulders. They were silver, a perfect match to his hair and complimenting the dark blue cape. “Just like I said.”

Tristan and I rolled our eyes.

I told you he’d say that, Tristan mouthed, and I stifled my chuckle then slowed my horse until our knees bumped together. The forest quieted around us as we wove our way through the trees, the first hint of chill curling around my ankles.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly. “You’ve been quiet these past weeks.”

Quiet was an understatement.

Tristan looked like he hadn’t slept in a month.

He’d been this way ever since Zor and Raz had carted him back to Blackcastle, half his hair singed off, one side of his beautiful face burned so badly he was unrecognizable. His face was healing, and his hair would grow back.

But those shadows haunting his eyes…like he’d seen the other side of the veil and dragged some of that ancient darkness back with him.

He’d gone out of his way to avoid me, though twice I’d caught him watching us with a yearning expression on his face.

We’d dropped plenty of hints, Tavion—not one to mince words—had outright invited Tristan to join us, but he kept his own rooms at the Keep and never showed any interest in sharing a bed with me or anyone else.

And I wasn’t about to push him into something he clearly didn’t want. But just because we weren’t lovers didn’t mean I couldn’t be a friend.

And I was worried about him.

“You can talk to me, Tristan. Whatever happened in that explosion…”

“What happened is over,” he said shortly, his brittle smile bright and awful. “We’re all alive, which is something to thank the gods for. No need to revisit the past.”

“We have a four-hour ride ahead of us,” I pointed out. “If you don’t want to talk about the past, then tell me about Wingcrest Hold. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an enormous estate. It must have been a grand place to grow up.”

Tristan stiffened, his knuckles turning white where he gripped his reins, his steed dancing nervously. “There’s nothing to tell. The castle is an ancient wreck and fell into disrepair after my family died.”

“Well, I think it’s beautiful.” More leaves and whirling seedpods drifted down over us, followed by a burst of cooler air edged with a hollow wail as if the wind was given a voice. I shivered when that chilled breeze passed over me, like some dark omen had whispered in my ear on the way past.

“Do you think, once this is finally over, you’ll live there?”

He only looked more haunted before shaking his head. “I don’t know. I suppose the Keep is our home now, if we make it back to Solarys after this.”

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