Page 45 of The Incendiary

I shrugged, falsely nonchalant. “Someone you should hope to never meet.”

His tightly cut jaw twitched. “That sounds like a threat.”

Only the gods knew how much of a threat it truly was, if Gavin Smyth ever made it back.

“You’re referring to the same person that trained you, I take it,” Elias added.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I snapped, my debilitating fear releasing in the form of rage, causing me to lash out.

“I would, actually,” he laughed, the damned dimples in his cheeks annoyingly there. “For someone determined to fight in my army, you seem determined to keep secrets from me.”

I flinched and hoped he didn’t notice. As much as I wanted to steer clear of Elias Winterton, I needed to gain his trust. Learning more about him would at least give me an idea what I was getting into.

“All right.” I turned back to him, offering my open palm. “Give me my blade back, and we’ll trade secrets.”

Elias held out the blade, but the moment I reached for it, he withdrew it.

“Hold on. That seems unfair. You get two things out of that bargain,” he said, eyes bright with intrigue. “Your knife and a secret of mine. I only get one.”

“True.” I gestured again for my knife back. “But you seem more desperate for my secrets than I am for yours.”

The word desperate slipped out before I could stop it. I braced myself for whatever self-righteous wrath he was bound to unleash after I’d wounded his ego, but to my surprise, Elias only laughed and let me take the blade.

“All right, Fera. You first.” He watched me return the blade to its sheath on my hip. I wasn’t sure if I was done throwing or not, but I felt the need to protect it from him.

My thoughts mulled over my many secrets. How plentiful and complicated they were. I didn’t want to lie. There were plenty of truths I could still tell him. If I could twist them and make them vague enough.

I’ve been given multiple last names and I’m not sure which is truly my own.

I’ve been stabbed a few times but managed to survive each one. I have a cat.

For the past four months, my favorite color’s secretly been hickory brown.

“Fera?” Elias startled me out of my own daze. I’d been thinking about that last one a little too long.

I glanced up and found impatient eyes staring back. “I think that some of my nightmares are forgotten memories.”

Elias gave a skeptical frown. “That’s your secret? You have nightmares?”

“I’ve never told anyone I think some of them are memories.” I shrugged. “Therefore, it’s a secret, and now it’s one you know.”

“That’s not a very good secret.”

“Well, Commander,” I sighed, motioning for him to continue, “I’m sure you’ll thoroughly enjoy proving your superiority.”

Elias stared silently into the trees, looking conflicted. When he finally spoke, I wasn’t expecting his words to feel familiar. “My sister’s death was my fault.”

The ache of loss wrapped its fist around my stomach and squeezed. I remembered their names from the tavern in Freyburn: Helena and Willa. I wanted to share my sympathy and ask which sister, only I couldn’t ask. It would be tactless, and I wasn’t supposed to know he had sisters.

And I already knew who killed one of them.

I swallowed down my nausea, folded and unfolded my arms more times than I could keep track of. I didn’t know what to say, so when his gaze met mine, I just said, “I’m so sorry about your sister.”

Both of them.

I meant it, but my stomach still leapt in a way I didn’t like when Elias rubbed his hand over his jaw and eyed me with curiosity that felt both sad and benevolent. “As you said yourself, Fera, we’ve all lost.”

“What happened?” I rushed out. The weak, vulnerable, heart-on-my-sleeve part of me felt like maybe I should let him talk. “If you want to tell me.”