Page 120 of Trial of Thorns
If you think you hate me more than I hate myself, you’re wrong.
We stop at the edge of a bright and glistening lake. In the middle is a small island with a blazing blue flame. Our clue.
“Do we swim?” Caelynn asks.
“Maybe. But I’d rather not if we don’t have to.” Who knows what’s inside this lake. Bodies of water I can’t see the bottom of give me the creeps. And though this water is a lovely blue, it’s misty enough to veil way more than I’m comfortable with. We decide to spend some time walking along the lake bank, to get a lay of the land in hopes we’ll find a way to cross without getting wet.
We walk casually, not talking, until we finally come across two small row boats.
Caelynn shrugs, and together, we pull one of the boats into the water and begin our long row out to the island. “They’ll see us coming from far off, if they’re already there.”
I nod. “We’re at full strength now. So long as we’re wary, I don’t see much to be concerned with.”
I reach into my pocket as we sail slowly toward the smoke signal and finger the leather handle of the obsidian blade.
“Thinking of killing me?” Caelynn’s voice is soft and low. Not fearful. Not accusing.
I freeze, stomach hurdling to my feet. “What?”
Her face is surprisingly blank as she continues to row. Her armor is impressively strong. “I wouldn’t be mad, you know?”
I blink and then clench my jaw. I believe her. She wouldn’t be surprised if I drove the dagger that killed my brother into her back.It would be a fitting end. “And that only makes it harder.”
Call me by my name before you kill me.
She bites her lip but avoids eye contact, and I watch with more interest than I should. Then she shrugs. “I suppose that’s your problem to work out. I made my choice years ago.”
Caelynn
Idon’t allow myselfto dwell on the conversation with Rev.
I’m okay with dying. It isn’t what I want, but I’d accept it. And I wouldn’t blame him, not for one second, if he finally followed through on his promise. Before this trial, he didn’t know me. He didn’t know why I’d hurt him the way I had. Now, he does, and somehow, that makes death easier. For me, at least.
The truth is out, and he can choose with his eyes wide open.
A black owl flies overhead, screeching. Shit. That’s a warning if I ever heard one. “They’re waiting for us,” I tell Rev.
