Page 16 of Forged in Fading

“You had nothing to do with your sister’s choices.” His words were monotone, lifeless.

“What you were saying in the dungeon⁠—”

“Not now. I just want to get home.”

Right. Because the only time Pyry was willing to talk about his emotions was under threat of torture. And even then, not so impressive.

Alvara stroked the mane of her horse to soothe the frustration building in her veins.

What good was love when it only produced secrets and pain?

Chapter Six

Over the next three days, Alvara and Pyry rode as fast as their horses could handle, the increasing distance steadily burning through the fear that whispered in Alvara’s ear to constantly peer over her shoulder for a sign of the king or his elves.

They did their best to stay in larger cities in Nyr and Dalvi, blending into the crowds to avoid unwanted attention and escaping the freezing bite of the season in local inns as long as they dared. Despite countless hours spent in each other’s company, they barely exchanged more than a few words, the space between them strained with things unspoken and memories—nightmares—that would never leave them as long as they lived.

When they finally arrived in Vorianta on the third night, the air hung heavy with snow, so thick Alvara could barely make out the city below her. She had never been so happy to see a place delightfully devoid of plants.

“Thank you again, Pyry.” She searched his exhausted face, tinged pink from the cold. “If you need anything⁠—”

“Go home. I’ll take the horses.”

She dismounted, tucked her gloved hands into her pockets, and set off toward her house, her boots sinking ankle-deep in the powder. Pyry had never been one to acknowledge his issues or past. Why Alvara had thought their experience together in Ela might alter that, even a fraction, she had no idea. He would never change.

Alvara clacked her boots together to remove as much snow as possible and paused in the doorway of her home. What few possessions she owned hadn’t budged since she had left. Everything was the same…yet nothing was.

Her eyes settled on a small painting of Vorianta on her bookshelf, one Eloisa had given Alvara for her birthday the year before she passed. The textured brushstrokes, the blurred patches of blues, grays, and whites that somehow captured the pure force of the mountains while still accentuating their otherworldly beauty…it all seemed colder than before. Almost foreign.

Everything with Eloisa—every memory, every conversation—had been transformed by what she learned in Tasírath. She would have preferred to live the rest of her life in ignorance of the truth. The stakes felt too high and the consequences too great.

Alvara laid the painting face down on the shelf, letting her touch linger on the edges of the canvas one more time before turning in for the night.

She rubbed her eyes as she entered the forge the next morning, much later than she had hoped. Her sleep had been even worse than usual, and Jalomir was already hard at work honing a longsword. That old elf woke at an ungodsly early hour.

“Good morning, young one. Tea is in the back.”

Thank Vitharen. It was generous to call anything in Dalvi a tea, when really it was a mixture of potent plants and herbs, but the bright and often tart nature of the ones she tried on rare occasions was enough to wake anyone up for the day.

She poured herself a steaming cup and gazed at the stone walls of the building, so similar to the dungeon’s.

So much blood. Drowning her. Drowning Pyry.

Her sweaty hands clenched around the mug she held, the heat searing her flesh.

“Alvara. Alvara. Alvara.”

A hand touched her shoulder, and her heart leapt into her throat. The mug slipped from her quivering fingers and shattered into pieces on the floor.

“Alvara, are you all right, my dear?”

She forced herself to focus on Jalomir’s face, tight with worry. “Just tired.” She swept up the mess with a broom, cursing herself for even thinking about Ela and the palace. Better to tuck it into the neglected corners of her mind to gather dust.

Jalomir watched her, his eyebrows drawn together. “If you feel too tired from the journey, you can head home. There’s nothing pressing that needs to be done today. You came back much earlier than I had expected.”

“I’m fine. I just missed being at the forge. It really was a nice break from Dalvi.” She didn’t want him to feel guilty for sending her to Ela when he had hoped it would fix her. If only it were that easy.

“I’m very glad. I hoped it would remind you that there is an entire world to see. A life to be lived.” Jalomir shuffled away and tossed his next comment over his hunched shoulder. “How is Pyry?”