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My hand flew to my chest at the strange sensation, a gasp leaving my lips.

Helion’s breath trembled against my neck, fingers digging into my skin as if he were afraid I would run.

The last grain of sand slipped from my chest.

A laugh slipped from Helion. Low at first. Almost breathless before it broke wider, jagged and unsteady, trembling against my skin as he reached around me and lifted his hand in front of us.

His fingers unfurled. A flicker of golden flame sparked in his palm, not just fire, but as though the heat from the sun itself lived beneath his skin.

Our reflections became bathed in warmth, highlighting the awe on his face as he watched the flames creep up his arms before diving beneath his flesh and running through his veins.

Bargain fulfilled, I tried to shuffle away from him.

His hand grabbed my waist, stilling me instantly.

“Please, just let me hold you for a while.”

My lips parted, no already forming on my tongue until I turned back to look at him. His nose brushed against mine, grey eyes dancing with golden embers that seemed shift like the embers from a campfire.

Warmth, longing, and a sorrow so deep it stole my breath flowed down the bond, as though he couldn't stop me from feeling it even if he wanted to.

An image surged through my mind of Riven, eye swollen shut, lip split and dark blood dripping down his chin chained to the wall during the confession war game.

“I will never be worthy of love.”

Had his fear been true?

My heart squeezed painfully and I slowly lowered myself down next to him, letting him wind his arm around me and tuck me against his body.

I was too tired to keep fighting him.

I let myself sink against his chest, letting his warmth seep into the frozen places inside me like the first sunrise after an endless winter.

It should have felt like comfort. Instead, it only made the guilt harder to bear.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rot and Wounds

Rythos

“You will not take this kingdom,” Dreya hissed between clenched teeth, swinging her blade in a wide threatening arc. I pushed down the laugh that tried to spill out of me. I had no interest in this frozen wasteland. But she had seen her king bound and bleeding beneath my hands, her prince gone, and me at the gates of Stonebriar’s castle.

Iron Guards emerged from the trees, their uniforms splattered in not only blue blood, but red as well.

“You killed these people,” I murmured, cocking my head to the side as I studied the Mortal blood dripping from the weapon she pointed towards me.

“We did,” she admitted easily, sidestepping as we circled each other. “There is no room for nonbelievers in this kingdom.”

She had murdered her own people, stained their cursed snow crimson for the same gods that had caused their turmoil.

Lyra had not omitted much when it came to Dreya, but she had seemed to care for her in some way. That was the only thing stopping me from ripping her limb from limb.

“For the gods?” I scoffed, shadows withering against my skin threateningly. “You should pray they stay buried.”

Her body twisted, blade flashing as she swung for my ribs.

I leaned back just enough for the steel to hiss past my chest, close enough that I felt the cold breath of it skim across my bare skin.