Page 115 of Keeper

I fold my arms and scowl at him.

Alvina snarls, straining against her bonds. “You little traitor—”

“—now, now, sister,” Hawke chides, his tone light but his eyes hard. “Let’s not be rude to our friends.”

“Friends.” I snort. “We’re not your friends.” I look at Cenric, expecting him to agree with me, but his expression remains neutral, almost expectant.

What’s going on here?

“We’re not your friends,” I repeat, slower this time, waiting for Cenric to back me up.

He doesn’t.

Hawke nods toward his sister. “Well, here she is, as we agreed.”

Agreed?

Alvina sneers, her perfect features twisting into an ugly mask. “You spineless worm,” she spits at Hawke. “Betraying your own flesh and blood.”

Instead of answering her, Hawke turns to Cenric. “I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain, Bloodstone. Now, it’s your turn.”

Cenric pulls a small, gilded chest from his cloak and hands it to Hawke.

As Hawke slips the chest into his cloak, his golden eyes flick to mine, and he winks. “When you get tired of the Bloodstone, there’s always a place for you with me.”

My jaw drops. Is he seriously flirting with me? Now? Here?

I narrow my eyes. “I prefer my men without air between their ears.”

Hawke grins, then turns to Cenric and nods.

The air around Hawke ripples like water, distorting his features. In a heartbeat, he vanishes, leaving behind nothing but a faint whisper of wind. The gilded chest disappears with him, as if it never existed.

My mind reels from what I’ve just witnessed. Hawke betraying his sister. Cenric giving him a chest.

What am I missing?

Before I can fully process everything, Cenric grabs Alvina’s arm and drags her from the tent. Her eyes flash with fury, but she doesn’t resist.

My heart hammers as I follow them.

Chapter

Sixty-Eight

EVERLY

I stand frozenas Cenric’s men lead Alvina to a raised wooden platform in the center of the camp. The structure looms before us, a crude altar of logs stacked high.

Alvina glares as they bind her to the central post. She holds her head high, green eyes flashing with hatred as they sweep over the assembled warriors.

Cenric turns to me and holds out a bow and a single arrow. “The first blow belongs to you for what she did to you and Finn.”

My heart races as I take the bow, needing her to die for what she did to Finn.

I nock the arrow and raise the bow, aiming it at Alvina. She meets my gaze, her eyes full of contempt. My arms shake as I draw back the string. But as I stand there, poised to release, something shifts inside me.

This won’t bring Finn back. It won’t undo the pain or fearI’ve endured. Striking a bound woman won’t make me feel better or safer.

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