Page 169 of Ashes of Honor

“You look beautiful.”

Amaia paused, her eyes glancing up at the sky as she blinked in quick succession. “If I start crying, I swear I’m going to smack you.”

“I didn’t think you owned anything that wasn’t black,” I teased.

“Yeah.” She sighed, tugging at the fabric. “I found it years ago. Haven’t had a reason to wear it. It was too … I don’t know. I left it behind the first time but I kept having weird dreams about it … felt like it was calling to me, so I went back. It’s been shoved into the corner of my closet ever since.”

Pressing off the rock, pulling out the delicate chain from my pocket. It was London’s. I’d been saving it for … well, I wasn’t quite sure. “Some would call that a sign,” I said, unclasping the lock and placing it around her neck. “Something old.”

“Some would,” Amaia’s fingers brushed over the Medusa pendant as she whispered, “Yes.”

“There’s more,” I said.

It wasn’t an awkward moment between us. Those didn’t exist. But it was vulnerable, and that was something we saved for the rarest of occasions. Understanding silence had suited our relationship best over the years—there were no secrets betweenus, and thus, talking about the emotions that went behind them had felt pointless. A self-pitying act.

“Oh?”

“Something new,” I said, pulling a small wooden bracelet from my pocket. The carving was simple but careful—woven branches circling together. I’d shaped it from the heartwood of a tree miles outside of Monterey Compound, the kind Prescott always said would outlive us all.

Amaia turned it over in her hands, tracing the grooves with her thumb. “You made this?”

I nodded. “And something blue.” I pulled the item I was most nervous about, having grabbed it in the few seconds Amaia had allowed me the space to gather my belongings before making the trek out here. Prescott collected many things. I’d called him out on his hoarding habits. It just so happened collecting hundreds of stones and shells from along the coast had served a better purpose. I’d been saving the earrings I’d made for Prescott’s birthday, a way to cheer her up, but given we would be spending that at war, now seemed about the right time as ever.

Her breath hitched as she reached out a trembling hand. I placed them in her palm, watching her put them in, her posture slowly turning rigid. Her shoulders tensed, the shift almost imperceptible—until I saw it in her eyes. The panic. A quiet, creeping thing. She turned toward the ocean as though she might allow herself to fall in.

“You can still run away,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her back to face me.

“I know,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the ground.

“I’m proud of you, kid.”

“I changed my mind.” Her head whipped up with that wicked smile back in place. “I should run.”

“You should,” I agreed with a shrug. “Anyone with sense would run fromthe Bloodhoundwaiting for you down the beach.”

She shoved me hard enough to send me stumbling back a step in the sand. “Riley!”

“What?” I laughed with the ease only two people could pull out of me. “I’m being a supportive brother. Come on, talk me through it. Why are we here right now?”

Her expression sobered again. “Because … because I love him,” she murmured.

“Right,” I nodded, letting her work through this herself. It was her decision, I couldn’t decide what was right for her life. Not that I didn’t approve, but commitment in this sense was a fragile topic for her—one she’d never been truly comfortable discussing.

“And he loves me.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled in agreement. “That’s an understatement.”

She fluffed up the curls atop her head, eyes darting to the world around us. “That doesn’t mean I should marry him though, like that’s a really big thing that people do.”

“Some of them,” I reasoned. “Sure.”

“But me?” Amaia’s laugh was maniacal even for the crazed.

“Whynotyou?”

That silenced her. I kept pushing, “You deserve a life that includes happiness, Amaia.Why not you?”

She chewed her lip, her gaze finally locking on mine.

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