Page 180 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

Still no message in return. A sickening feeling curled in the pit of her stomach. Then the stone pulsed once and warmed in her hand. A flicker of shame. I needed to see what we were up against.

Frustration flared within her. They’d talked about this. There was no amount of preparation that would guarantee her safety. Just one look. Then she’d drag him back to Velhya herself if she had to.

The silver thread led her deeper into the ruins. Voryx’s presence dragged at her with every step. Stiflingly hot, the air humid and reeking, heaviness pressed the breath from her lungs the moment she stepped between the pillars.

Above her, the sky yawned wide and dark. The temple’s ceiling collapsed long ago. Stars winked faintly like even their light was dampened here. Giant mushrooms—once beautiful, now pocked with decay—glimmered with sickly green light that illuminated the darkness.

Her mark throbbed as if in warning.

I know, she told it. I don’t really want to be here either.

The Binding Bough rose before her—a tree so unfathomably massive that it froze her steps. Branches twisted and strained toward the gloomy sky like black bones. Its leaves were skeletal but still clinging stubbornly to life.

The trunk was gnarled and blackened. At its center, a gash sank in the bark so deep she could step within it—a void that dripped with viscous sap. An acrid scent like one of Garin’s acids itched in her nose as the wound pulsed in time with her mark.

Its roots clawed between the flagstones, curling down the steps where a figure stood, draped in shadows. He was studying the bark, but he turned when she drew near, eyes ringed in dark circles, mouth set into a hard line. The dim light from the mushrooms gave his features an unnatural hue that set her nerves on edge.

“You should have waited for me.”

The sound dampened against the tree. The decayed leaves gathering in piles beside the steps softened every word. Even so, she was afraid to raise her voice here.

“I had to see it for myself.” He looked up at the branches and shook his head. “Hard to believe they managed to trap a god here.”

“You don’t feel it?” When he shook his head, she said, “The air is too thick here. He’s in there.”

Orzen stepped away from the tree, ending close enough to her that she could see his gaze shift to her, even in the dim light. He rubbed the back of his neck and slipped his hand into hers. His skin was cold and slightly damp so she wrapped her hands around his to warm them.

“I kept thinking about the prophecy, what it might mean.” His eyes hardened. “If there’s even a chance someone’s planning to trade your life for the safety of the Glade, I needed to be prepared.”

A flare of something hot and angry shot through her, stiffening her body from her horns to her hooves. Even her tail straightened and stilled. “You can’t keep doing this—putting yourself at risk to protect me from things you can’t control.”

He looked away, his eyes shining strangely in the light. “I know, I try. But…”

When he looked at her again, the intensity in their dark brown depths surprised her. It was a look she’d only ever seen when someone believed they’d found exactly what they were searching for. Not a look anyone had ever directed toward her.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said softly, stepping so close the leather brushed her tunic. “Not to this. Not now.”

Her breath caught. The way he said it—so stable and sure—warmed a place within her that had always been frozen. Even while it spread within her, a flutter of doubt flickered up her spine—the oddness of this place gnawing at things she’d grown sure of, like the comfort in his presence.

Still, there he was, waiting with such hope, looking at her like he never wanted to stop, and the ache she’d tried to push aside cracked open. She leaned in so their shoulders nearly brushed and squeezed his hands. His fingers stiffened at the touch, but the longer she held them, the more he eased.

Her thoughts flashed back to the memories he’d shared about his past. The way he’d let her hold him when he’d broken down afterward. The brief kiss he’d been so nervous to give, and the thrill of hope it had stirred in her—that maybe she’d been wrong to pretend she hadn’t wanted more from him.

“Why does it matter to you?” She was afraid to ask, but she let the words tumble out anyway. “Tell me the truth. What do you really want?”

He met her gaze, eyes darkened with an intent that set her pulse thrumming. His fingers slipped from hers, and he cupped her cheek. His thumb left a trail of cold burning in its wake. His other hand fell to her waist, and her heart pounded in her chest.

All thoughts of the Cycle, of the Glade, of everything outside of this moment fell away. She tilted her head back to look at him, so close she could feel his breath. Something unreadable crossed his face before he closed the distance. He pulled her in, pressing a kiss against her lips.

It was stiffer than she expected. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she tried to respond by instinct, softening against him. A bitterness coated her lips, and she pulled back, swallowing against it, heaviness settling in her chest as she forced herself not to wipe it away. The kiss wasn’t what she’d thought it would be—what she’d wanted it to be.

He watched her, brows narrowed. Now that she was close, the sheen in his eyes was clear—a blankness that stiffened her shoulders. She slipped her hands from his back and took a shaking step away.

“Orzen?”

Her stomach roiled. Something was wrong.

The fur on her legs rose, her hair prickling up her arms like she was being watched. Her gaze darted around the temple, but they were still alone.