Page 85 of Kept

Past and present melded. Combined and swirled together. The snap of black and crimson banners. The scent of night-blooming roses. Laurent’s raspy voice. Varick’s golden gaze narrowing at me across the Rift. His tears soaking my hair.

Jordan’s steady blue eyes.

Courage hovering in front of me.

I released Jordan’s hand and reached for it. Stepped forward.

And plunged into the Rift.

Chapter Twenty-Five

LAURENT

The savior of the realm will be bound in blood and reborn from the Rift.

Given didn’t tell us where she’d gone. But Varick and I knew.

It was an hour’s ride from Lar Katerin to the Rift.

Varick and I made the journey in thirty minutes. We thundered toward the chasm, the knights from the Wastes behind us. Igrith and the Wesyfeddans rode with us too. I was happy to have them—and their swords and arrows. I had no idea what waited for us at the Rift.

But I prayed to the gods that Given did.

My heart pounded in my ears, rivaling the scream of the wind that ripped at my hair and cloak. Varick was an intense, impatient presence at my side. We were a pair of idiots who thought with our dicks. Given obviously knew this, and she’d outsmarted us. Blinded by lust, we hadn’t noticed anything awry in the Rose Room.

We’d failed to see what was missing.

Roses. Given hadn’t tapped her gift of Making because she hadn’t been there at all. She’d made us wait for her, and she’d used the time to ride to the Rift. Then she’d prevented us from following by farseeing back to us.

She’d returned to say goodbye.

Fuck that. It was not going to be one. I wouldn’t allow it.

The Rift loomed. Moonlight shone down on the Bleak Pass.

Varick and I reined in and dismounted. Knights from the patrol jogged toward us with questions in their eyes. Captain Radu moved to intercept them.

I had no patience for any of it. My heart raced, and a sense of helplessness gripped me as I walked to the mouth of the Pass. With blood rushing in my ears, I looked over the edge and saw nothing.

Emptiness. Blackness. Death.

My knees loosened, and the pounding in my ears grew louder.

Of course I saw nothing. What had I expected to see? A dozen wild thoughts spun through my head, chief among them the horrible, wrenching knowledge that Given was not here. She was gone.

Varick’s bellow of rage spun me around.

He stood in a bright shaft of moonlight, one hand locked around Jordan’s throat. Fangs bared, he growled, “Where the fuck is she?”

“Varick!” Igrith cried, her cloak flying as she raced toward them. “Lord Varick, let him go!”

Jordan’s eyes were as steady as ever as he gazed into Varick’s enraged face. “She’s not here, Lord Varick.”

“Where?” Varick demanded. “The Thicket?”

“No.”

“Then…” Varick glanced at the Rift, and his voice broke. “Damn you, what have you done?”

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