Page 11 of The Incendiary

Fury boiled my blood. Part of me wanted to cause a terrible rift in whatever bliss she and Sinclair had finally found together. Send them to opposite sides of the continent, rip them apart so they could get a taste of what had been ripped from me. Another part of me wanted to do worse. Tremaine was hiding something. Extreme measures would be justified to withdraw the information I needed.

But I had an inkling my queen would’ve been merciful to her friend.

I gave her a curt nod of dismissal, because I wouldn’t lie to myself. I could not escape my part in this—My fault. What she said next seared me like a brand.

“Respectfully, Commander…” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. In her eyes there was unexpected pity. “Perhaps you should have fetched her yourself.”

FOUR

ARYELLA

During our time together between Warrich and Brinnea, I was an insufferable, controlling asshole. But I was often convinced the gods had brought you back to me as some sort of cosmic joke, and I couldn’t breathe, much less think clearly, at the thought of you being ripped away from me again.

I pray you’ll one day forgive me.

—FROM THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA’S LAST KNOWN LETTERS TO QUEEN ARYELLA I

Steam billowed in front of my face as I moved, swiftly and sharply. The morning was cold, and I sucked in the crisp air like it gave me life.

My sparring partner, however, appreciated the chill far less.

“Faster, Damond!” I snapped. Months ago, training with him had pushed me to the point of vomiting. Now, he could barely keep up with me.

I’d memorized his tell—when his weight shifted onto his toes—and ducked every time he swung. I never thought I’d be thanking the gods for short legs.

He dodged me, too. Sometimes.

“I can’t!” he gasped, yielding with his hands up just as I was about to uppercut my fist into his jaw. “You’re too fast.”

“Come on.” My arms fell to my sides. “That’s ridiculous. No, I’m not.”

“I’m done, Aryella,” he insisted.

I grabbed my canteen and took a long drink.

Damond had the patience of a saint. This afternoon, however, his face flushed and breathing labored, he braced himself with his hands on his hips and glared at me. “I’ve shown you everything I know and then some.”

I shook my head. That couldn’t be true. “He trained you for what, ten years?”

Damond rubbed the back of his neck. “When he was around, sure, which wasn’t all that much. Enough for me to protect myself from rogues and thieves.” He looked pointedly at three of my many books, pages crinkled and spines nearly wrecked, lying open on the forest floor. “Meanwhile, you have done nothing for the last four months but push your body to its limits, memorize every maneuver on every single page he left you and use it all to learn how to beat the shit out of me.”

“I don’t think⁠—”

“You outmatch me now, Ary.”

“I have one more day left to train before leaving for Commencement.” I unwrapped sweat-dampened cloth from my hands. I knew I’d likely never feel ready. I needed to take the risk anyway. Still, I added, “I have to be better and smarter.”

“How long are you going to punish yourself?” He picked his own canteen off the freshly thawing ground. I refused to meet his questioning stare. I didn’t have to specify my insecurities for him to know. I had spent many nights berating myself for running off to Molochai’s camp on impulse.

“It was dumb,” I mumbled under my breath.

“You were starving, lost, mourning, and cold,” he reminded me. “Then, you were burdened with the weight of the world, lied to, and heartbroken. You thought you were sacrificing yourself to save the woman he loved, because you loved him. So yes, it was impulsive, but I’d be filthy rich if I had a coin for every time a broken heart drove my decisions.” He paused to drink. “You learned and survived. You did,” he insisted when I arched my brow at him. “You’re stronger now, and smarter. And even though you possess the power of the gods, as far as I know, you’re still human.”

Damond was good at encouraging and empowering me. But sometimes everything I kept suppressed rushed out with a vengeance. I was working on turning my fear into rage instead.

Sometimes, though, I missed how it felt to feel everything safely. To not suppress at all. To just be. With him.

My eyes wandered to Shera, who was lounging lazily beside a fern, waiting for unsuspecting rabbits or squirrels. She looked back at me and I smirked. Sometimes I swore she smiled back.