Page 177 of Curse of Darkness
FINN
The horn blows, its crystalline notes ringing across the valley like the sound of a Sorrow calling for Death.
Instantly, the Evernight forces grind to a halt. There’s a moment of confusion. Troops milling. Daring to ask themselves: Is that what I think it is?
And then the horn sings out again.
“Retreat!” someone bellows.
The flags wave.
And suddenly the waves of black and silver—Evernight’s colors—turn on themselves in a retreat that lacks its usual orderly manner. You can practice something a thousand times, but when you know what’s about to stalk out onto the field, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve coordinated it. Warriors break ranks and start sprinting. Bottlenecks occur. Fae scream and shout and shove at each other as they fight to getoffthe field.
I don’t even have the heart to chastise them for it.
Instead I slide my gauntlets on, breathing in the scent of war.
A thrill runs through me. I was born for this. Forged for battle and raised to spill blood. Hardened by years of training as my mother kicked my feet out from under me and then demanded I get up. Again. And again. And again. Until finally, she was the one in the dirt, my sword at her throat as she gave me a gruff nod of approval.
Today there will be no checking myself. It’s been years since I let the reins slip through my fingers, and something inside me hungers for it.
No more leashes. Not today.
“Are you ready?” Eris asks.
“Are you?” I look at her.
Tall and lean, every inch of her is sculpted of muscle. Her hair is braided back in neat rows, giving an enemy little chance to grab hold of anything. When she’s serving on the front, she wears the crisp gold armor Thiago presented her with years ago, but right now, she’s garbed in her usual braided leather. It leaves her dark arms bare and protects her chest just enough without hampering her movement.
Eris cuts me a cool look. All her emotions locked down tight until there’s hardly anything left.
Maybe I’m the only one who sees the tiny glint of fear in her eyes—not fear of battle, but fear of herself.
“I’m ready.” She rolls her shoulders.
Instinct urges me forward. I reach behind my neck and undo the clasp on the leather thong that hangs around my neck. It’s never left my throat before, and she won’t know the significance. The flame pendant that hangs at the end of the leather thong was cast by my grandfather. It was gifted to me by my mother on the day I finally stood a man.
It’s the Flame of my people.
The warrior-born.
The shield against the enemy.
The last spark in the Darkness.
And the only time the Sylvaren ever give their flame away is when they gift it to the one who holds their heart.
She won’t know.
She’ll never know.
But I don’t want her to be alone out there, and if I fall today, then she will have this one last thing of me. The most precious thing I own.
“Here.” Drawing the flame pendant free, I ease it around her throat and clasp it behind her neck. “It will bring you luck. And when you feel it hanging around your throat, I want you to remember who you are and who you belong to. I want you to know that you won’t be alone out there, E. I’ll be there with you. Watching your back and preparing to bring you home.”
Eris stills. This close to her, I can see glints of gold in her dark eyes as she glances at me from beneath her lashes.
I can’t stop my gaze from sliding to her full mouth; it’s the only hint of softness on her face. The rest of her is all angles—cheekbones like cliffs, and a jaw that beckons a man to kiss it at his own risk.
