Page 103 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
No meat, then. Bastard.
Unbidden, my gaze tracks further along the train of walking troops and lands on Styx. Something tugs within my chest, uncomfortable and needy. He was briefly there with Bodin andme in that tiny wall cavity while the castle changed shape. I felt his wraith occupy the space, and he spoke into my mind, daring me to get down on my knees for Bodin. He overheard my thoughts, but contrary to my worry that he’d be dejected or jealous like he was on the dancefloor, he wanted to join in. Only for a moment before he thought better of it and disappeared.
The memory brings a rush of heat beneath my skin. The danger, the closeness, the way Styx’s hoarse whisper in my mind gleamed with mischief and desire . . .
I’m still smirking to myself when Bodin tugs me toward the back of our troop and pulls something from his pack. The crisp winter air nips at my cheeks, but I barely notice, too intrigued by Bodin’s secretive behavior.
“Here,” he says, handing me a long, thin cloth-wrapped package. His fingers brush against mine as he passes it over, sending sparks shooting up my arm.
“What’s this?” I ask, excitement bubbling in my chest.
“Something I thought you might need,” he replies, a hint of gruffness in his voice. “A gift.”
“A gift?” I blink.
“Yes,” he says, a little frustrated. “Hurry up and open it before somebody sees.”
Barely able to contain my grin, I hastily unwrap the package and have to stifle my gasp of surprise. It’s my Elphynian bone sword—but shorter and refined. I turn the blade over in my hand. The elven-strengthening glyphs are still there, glimmering blue on the blade. An onyx skull is the new pommel.
“How did you get it? How did you change it?” I ask, wonder in my voice.
Bodin’s enigmatic smile makes my stomach flip. “I honed the blade but asked Styx for help with the decorations.”
I twirl it in my hands. In its original form, the sword was chunky and a little barbaric-looking. It suited Elphyne, but nothere. More ornate jewels encrust the cross-guard. It could easily stand among Titania’s glimmering court and their obsession with pretty things. I swing it around, cutting the air like a pretend monster.
“It’s perfectly balanced,” I breathe.
“Stop drawing attention to yourself,” he grumbles, but his words have no real heat. “Strap it on and forget about it. Hopefully, you’ll never have to use it.”
“Hopefully, I do,” I smirk, excited. “Here,” I shove my backpack at him. He makes an “oof” sound as he catches it while I flick open my cape and strap the belt around my waist, shifting the sheath to my right hip. The old sword was too big for my hips. I had to wear a shoulder baldric, which was great when I set out with deliberate intentions for hunting. But to wear around day to day . . . this one is?—
“It’s perfect,” I gush, stroking the skull.
He grumbles something inaudible. When I look at his face, I’m sure I catch a blush darkening his cheeks before he quickly looks away.
“Thank you, Bodin,” I say softly, stepping closer to him. For a moment, we’re standing so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. “And please . . . thank Styx for me too.”
I know he’s watching somehow. I feel his presence nearby despite his figure walking steadily ahead.
Bodin’s eyes darken, a flash of possessiveness crossing his features before he schools his expression. “We added a few upgrades to it as well,” he says, his voice rough.
“Oh? Like what?” I ask.
“You’ll find out,” he says cryptically, returning my pack.
As I refit my pack, I feel a sense of completeness I didn’t realize I was missing. This isn’t just a weapon; it’s a symbol of my old life and the new life I’m building. The fact that both Bodin and Styx had a hand in creating it makes it even moreprecious. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone in this fight and that I have people I can trust at my back . . . even if they might one day forget.
Chapter 42
Willow
On the first night, we set up camp beneath towering trees. The snow rapidly lessens the further we are from the city. Legion said something in class about the winter not being so brutal in the regional areas. I hardly believed it when we stepped outside the gates, but here, a mere day’s trek from the city, not a single snowflake decorates a branch.
The ground is damp but not soggy. Evergreen trees are lush and filled with twittering wildlife. I notice more marked glyph trees—more signs of dissent amongst the people. Bodin said change was coming. I’m desperate to head out and hunt, but we’re forbidden to leave the camp. Scouting expeditions start tomorrow.
Chaos reigns as we struggle to set up tents and organize supplies until the more experienced take charge, directing those who aren’t. Most are older exhibitors or Chasers who’ve served in the military.
A pang of disappointment flickers through me as I watch the Radiants lounging while we work, leaving the task of setting up to us “mere mortals.” Even Bodin leaves us to confer with Styx and Legion in a decorated tent at the head of the train. But my mood refuses to sour.
