“Then you’re the luckiest girl I’ve ever met.”
My brows shoot to my hairline. Lucky? I do not feel lucky. Then again…even as I reject his assertions, my mind is back in that river. Knee-deep in that frigid water, remembering the way it lapped around me as I forged my way across. Not dragging me down, not fighting my progress. At times almost propelling me forward. Helping me along.
Straight into Soren’s grasp.
He was there. Standing on that opposite bank. Almost likehe’d been waiting for me. Almost like…the water delivered me to him.
Had he ensured my crossing? Had he held off the rushing rapids, the ripping currents, as I made my way to safety?
I shake my head, banishing the suspicions. Even if they are true, I’m not about to share them with Penn. His temper hangs by the thinnest of threads. Soren is just the knife to sever it completely.
“Call it what you’d like. Luck, obstinance, desperation…I did make it across,” I say softly. “But doing so took my last bit of strength. I collapsed on the bank, my air shield gave out, and I lost consciousness. When I woke up this morning, I was at the Acrine Hold. Despite your belief that I washolding court with the devil, in truth I spent no more than an hour in his company before you arrived at the front gates.”
Some of the tension bleeds out of Penn’s shoulders. Releasing his grip on the mantel, he turns to face me. He takes a stride in my direction and, without thinking, I scuttle backward, heart leaping into my throat.
He freezes. “You’re afraid of me.”
“No,” I whisper. “I just…I’ve never seen you this way. You’re usually so…controlled.”
“I…Soren, he…” His throat works, swallowing roughly. “You have no idea what seeing you there, by his side, did to me. Knowing he was close enough to even breathe your air…The thought of what he might’ve done to you…That I might not get to you in time…”
“He did nothing to me. We talked; that’s all.”
“You cannot trust him,” he tells me, eyes igniting with fresh flames. It’s like staring into the depths of a forge. “There is nothing he will not say—will not do—to turn you against me.”
“Why?”
“We have a—” He struggles for words. “A complicated history. I don’t know what he told you about me—”
“Very little.”
Penn scoffs darkly. “I doubt that, given that you’re flinching at my presence when, not two days past, you reached to me for support.”
I blink in surprise. I’ve wounded him more deeply than I realized by retreating. I’m not sure why that makes me feel so guilty.
I’ve woundedhim?
He’s woundedme!
He is the one who lied. He is the one who kept his identity hidden. He shared nothing—not of our joined fate, not of the prophecy, not of Soren. Certainly not of the mysterious Enid, and whatever happened to her seventy years ago.
I owe him nothing. No trust. No true allegiance. He may be my protector, but he is not my friend.
Then why does looking at him make your heart ache, Rhya?
I shake off the unwarranted pangs of sympathy. All that truly matters is that, for the time being, Penn is the string that tethers my kite to the earth. Until this storm passes, I have little choice but to remain by his side, under his protection.
Ignoring the thudding of my own pulse, I force my gaze to meet his and take a purposeful stride forward, to prove I’m not afraid of him.
“Penn…”
His whole body jolts at my whisper.
“I’m exhausted. All right? Can’t you understand that?” My voice cracks on the question. “I’m so tired, I can barely stand. And every time I think I’ve found my footing, my feet are swept out from under me again. These past few days…Between usingmy power for the first time and hearing I’m part of a fated tetrad upon which the future of Anwyvn rests—”
“He told you, then. About the prophecy.”
I nod. “Needless to say, I’m trying to sort through my thoughts. I need a little time. More than that, I need some sleep.”