Page 2 of Of Blooming Embers
She stepped back, her chest rising and falling rapidly, nails digging into the fabric across her chest. Disoriented, her eyes widened, and she blinked a few times as if waking from a dream. Her lashes swept closed, trapping the line of salty tears beneath.
A sweet-smelling breeze fluttered through her curls. Burning acid frothed inside my guts. The sun stroked her strands as the scent of astra poppies slapped across the angular ridges of my face.
Against my will, my boots shifted forward, hand gravitating toward her.
Seryn opened her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. Resignation settled into the straight line of her mouth. My handdropped, following her clipped words as they fell heavy at my feet. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing left to say.”
Without another glance, she spun, marching toward her cottage through the grymwoods, their branches arching over—claw-like twigs reaching for her greedily. The flames of her hair flickered at her back and shoulders, consuming her.
Consuming usboth.
But it didn’t fucking matter.
I had already cremated my own heart.
Cold, black ash was all that remained.
1
SEASONS OF OUR LIVES
SERYN ~ NOWADAYS
My bones ached, the muscles of my leather-clad thighs screaming as they gripped the thick saddle between them. Atop a pair of burnished mares, Gavrel and I moved through the dense forest of Evergryn. For the last few days, we’d journeyed past endless grymwood trees. The farther we got, the grayer the hues that sank into the grain of the imposing trunks.
They surrounded us from every angle, their desiccated branches raking at the surrounding spaces, poking their nearest comrades, trying to get their attention as we passed.
My horse followed Gavrel’s, dark hooves crunching over dead grymwood needles, dried grass, and rocks as it cantered rhythmically.
Gavrel’s massive hands gently pulled on his animal’s reins, and I did the same, a rumbling huff puffing from my steed’s flaring nostrils as we slowed.
My lips pressed into a firm line as I studied Gavrel’s back. His sheathed broadsword bumped against the corded muscles.
We had spoken little during our trip. Each second dragged acrossthe day. We had secured supplies and food at various villages along the way, ate in silence, slept on separate bedrolls under the bristled canopy and blackened skies, awakened, and did it all over again.
Sometimes, the corner of Gavrel’s mouth would curl ever so slightly, but then his brow would fall as he sipped in a quick bit of air, remnants of stifled words catching in his thick throat. Perhaps he knew I didn’t have it in me for idle conversation or to deconstruct our past.
Perhaps he didn’t either.
Good.
I breathed in the damp, foggy musk. It smelled of timber and rot. We surveyed our surroundings, ears tuned to the faintest echo of any movement not our own.
So far, the plan to head east, toward Haadra, was the right one. There had been no sign of the two Akridais, the Elders’ elite Druik enforcers, stalking us. No doubt Elder Melina Harrow’s fury was mounting with every passing day in which our chained bodies weren’t dropped at her feet. I pushed the delicate frame of my chin forward, the bitter taste of disgust rippling over my tongue before I swallowed it back.
With a deep inhale, I ran my hand over the coarse mane of my mount. Luckily, Gavrel had brought a cache of coins from his earnings as a commander, so we were able to barter for the horses in a small village early on our journey.
Thank the Ancients.
I lifted my eyes to the aether, my brow crinkling.Do the Ancients deserve accolades any longer?
Where were they as Midst Fall crumbled around us? As the Elder Laws oppressed mortals and Druiks alike, the heel of the oligarchy’s mandates digging into our spines, our voices muffled and choking in the dirt. Where were they as the Dormancy stole seasons of our lives—our minds ravaged by malignant dreams?
My nostrils flared with a frustrated exhale, and Gavrel turned to me as my mare fell in step beside his. His expression remained stoicand unflinching. Impassive. He was always brooding; his plump mouth set in an unwavering slash across his face.
Heat zipped down my spine, and I shifted the rucksack on my back, its weight distracting my attention away from Gavrel’s heartbreakingly beautiful. Fucking. Face.
A line of wariness and exhaustion dented the space between my brows as I dug my molars into each other. The fingers of my left hand squeezed around the reins, the cool, carved tourmaline of my ring humming against my forefinger.
