Page 38 of A Trial of Two Worlds
“Lucky bastard,” Gunnar swore as his dagger embedded itself in the post of a nearby tent.
“Is it wise to insult your commanding officer like that? Or attempt to harm me?” I asked. “I thought better of you—”
“You knew better than to insult my teachings,” Gunnar replied, standing to retrieve his weapon. “And I knew you’d get a premonition of your impending death and react in time to avoid it.”
“Seems more likeluckon your part.”
“No,” Gunnar boasted, “smarts.” He grinned widely, tapping the tip of his dagger to his temple with a confident wink.
I shook my head and sighed.
Gunnar sat back with a disgruntled groan, sheathing his blade at his belt. An all-too-familiar smirk appeared on the side of his face as he reclined on the dirt near the roaring flames. “Has your hand not been enough for you these past few months, Cas? Has all that built-up tension made youcranky?”
“Careful,” I warned, the tone of our conversation taking a drastic shift.
“Fair enough,” Gunnar answered, knowing when our banter had reached a stopping point. And he knew that this topic was firmly off-limits.
I scanned the camp once more, looking for— Gods, I didn’t even want to admit to myself what I was looking for.
“I’ll take the next perimeter check,” I told him, donning a black cloak hanging on the nearby rack.
“You’ll want to end your patrol on the western rock faces,” Gunnar said, resuming his carving. The flames gleaming off his half-shaved head highlighted the tattoos inked across his skull.
“Why?” I asked, skeptical.
“You’ll see,” he said, reaching for another log to begin carving through the night. “Just trust me on this one.”
I sucked in a breath and gave him a curt nod as I pulled up the hood of my cloak and turned away from the fire.
Chapter Eighteen
Castor Aegaeon
The crisp night air was uniquely refreshing.
This close to the wilt, it was a blessing that life still found a way to flourish. The soft melody of the night birds and the scuffling of smaller nocturnal creatures meant all was well, for the moment. The magic of the land was still fighting to survive. I detected traces of it dancing along my skin like soft kisses a mother gives their newborn babe.
I didn’t speak to anyone, only granting warriors a nod if any of them recognized me. I was consumed within the trenches of my own mind, thinking and plotting the next steps and then the ones after, tinkering with the different complexities of our strategy, and figuring out plan C, if plans A and B didn’t work out. I was always calculating our subsequent efforts, always trying my best not to be surprised or caught off guard.
I reached a small outcrop of gray boulders that built a natural encampment overlooking the clearing below. I decided this would be an excellent vantage point and a separation from the commotion of the warriors. The natural rocky hill created a cascading staircase that I easily scaled. The boulders under my hands held streaks ofsparkling minerals that stood out against the darker stones in the reflection of the moonlight.
Skylar would know the name of this.
A twinge of pain burrowed within my chest. I worried for her safety, along with my brother’s.
When I reached the top, I searched for a restful dwelling to unwind in. A sound echoed from behind me. Against my best intentions not to be caught off guard, I froze in place, eyes wide with shock.
She was so still.
A stillness that I believed only the dead could truly achieve. Yet, she looked peaceful and, as always, exquisitely stunning.
I cleared my throat, half-wondering if she was asleep. “Nyssa,” I announced as bravely as I could manage.
She didn’t shift or even breathe.
“Nyssa.” I didn’t frame it as a question because I knew where she was, a part of me always knew—
A glimpse of fair skin atop a slender thigh drew my attention. The slit of her long ebony dress, which did little to curb my raging hunger, moved. I stilled as her leg straightened from its resting position and she sat up from the shadow cast by the large boulders and leaned into the moonlight.
