Page 109 of Fearless

“You were there for her when I couldn’t be,” I say firmly. “And that was enough.”

He shakes his head of dark hair at the cobblestones beneath us. “I have spent weeks being so angry with you. With the girl who killed her.”

“Me too.” I almost laugh, even as tears refuse to shy from my gaze. “You can’t blame me—or Blair—more than I already have.”

The silence that stretches between us only reminds me of Adena. She is not here to fill it.

The man shifts, slipping from the shadow that once draped over him. I let my gaze fall from his face for the first time, as if the dull light has tempted me to investigate further. My stare scours over his broad shoulders, then the fabric hanging over them. The black vest is cut close to his body with pockets and pockets and—

I know those pockets.

My chin dips. I stare down at my own torn pockets.

“She made you a vest.”

The stranger now stares at the olive fabric wrapped around me, his dark eyes glassy. “She did.”

All the air has left my lungs. Hurt curls around my body, choking until it’s crushing my will, my hope, my heart. I grieve Adena all over again, because I was not the only one she lost. Two great loves were left behind, and both hug what remains of her close to their heart.

Tears fall, but I don’t care that my vulnerability is on display. I kneel at the foot of our fort and cry for the girl who once brightened it. The stranger swipes at his cheek but is quick to aim the sharp planes of his face at the ground.

“What is your name?” I finally manage to whisper.

It takes him a long moment to find an answer. “Mak.”

I nod quickly, the action shaking tears from my eyelashes. “Can I…” My voice cracks. “Can I give you a hug, Mak?”

He doesn’t do it for me. I can tell by the tensing of his shoulders. No, he does it for his Dena—my A. We fall into each other, bodies shaking with grief and anger. In his embrace, I understand how someone so rigid and stoic could only be molded by the gentlest of hands. He was drawn in by Adena’s warmth, forever imprinted on by her now-broken sewing fingers.

We hold each other, strangers connected by a mutual love. And when Mak finally pulls away, his eyes rimmed with red, a streak of sunshine falls heavily over our kneeling bodies. The beam of light coats us thoroughly enough to dry the tears staining my cheeks.

The scar cutting through Mak’s lips curves with a sad smile. “What?” I ask weakly. This man does not look like the type to smile easily, though that may have only been the case before Adena gave him a reason to.

He shuts his eyes to bask in the warm light. “Just admiring the sun.”

CHAPTER 38Kai

The sun wakes before I’ve even gone to sleep.

It peers down at me from behind the string of orange clouds smothering the horizon. It wasn’t until soft light scared away the shadows, and a warm breeze grazed my sweaty skin, that I realized my night was spent in the training ring.

I swing a sword at my side, repeating the same movements I have since stepping into this circle of packed dirt. The dull edge of my blade meets the chipped practice dummy opposite me with a thud. With a series of swift movements, I would have thoroughly disemboweled a figure not carved from wood.

“You need something more challenging to beat down on.”

I smile at the sound of Kitt’s voice as I yank my lodged sword free. “What, are you offering?”

I watch him step into the ring with a slight cough. “I could use the exercise. Plague knows I haven’t sparred with you in weeks.”

“Miss getting your ass kicked, do you?”

He catches the dull sword I toss at him. “Maybe I missed spendingtime with you, Brother. Even if it means getting my ass kicked.”

I begin treading a slow circle around the ring, Kitt following my lead with his weapon raised. “Don’t go getting all soft on me.” My grin is crooked. “I’d rather not feel bad about throwing you around.”

I catch the slash of his blade with my own.

He wears a wild smile as he pulls away and attempts a jab at my ribs. I dodge swiftly before swiping my blade toward him. Kitt ducks, leaving behind the swoosh of torn air when dull steel sweeps over his blond head. “It seems I’m not too out of practice after a—”

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