“I know that!”
“Really? Because history suggests otherwise.”
“How so?”
“You should’ve used it that day on the mountain, the moment you realized you couldn’t make it up the Widow’s Notch! I’d have known you were in trouble. I’d have come for you.”
“And so would every Reaver with a set of ears!”
“I would’ve handled them. I did handle them, in fact.”
“Your fire did, you mean.”
His eyes narrow at the accusatory note in my voice, but he says nothing. He is still holding the whistle, his fingers twisting in the leather cord like it’s a leash at my throat.
“I heard them scream,” I say bluntly, trying to get my pulse under control—and failing miserably. “When the blaze overtook them, I heard them die. I’ve heard men die before. Young men, old men. From fevers and sharp falls and all manner of illnesses. But I have never heard men scream the way those Reavers did when the inferno you unleashed caught up to them.” I shudder at the memory as goose bumps bloom on my arms. “It was horrible. It was…unnatural. Fire does not move like that. With suchhunger.”
“You weren’t supposed to be there,” he says through clenched teeth.
“It still happened, whether or not I was there to witness it.”
“And?” He scoffs. “Do you expect me to feel sorry for a clan of barbaric fae haters who would’ve done far worse to us? Cut off our ears and worn them from straps around their necks like jewelry? Pierced us full of iron until the agony was so great, we’d beg for death long before they delivered it?”
I pale. “I…”
“Have you already forgotten what you saw in that clearing? What they did to Jac’s unit?”
I shake my head, unable to speak. I have not forgotten. I will never forget, not as long as I live.
“They like to drag it out,” he continues. “The last few of our soldiers they captured…I’ll spare you the full details, but suffice to say, there wasn’t enough left of them to bring back to their families for funeral rites by the time we found them.” His brow furrows. “No. I don’t feel sorry. I will lose no sleep knowing that murderous horde of blood purists died writhing in pain beneathmy flame. I’ll sleep all the more soundly in that knowledge. I only wish I’d been close enough to hear it for myself. Their screams would be a lullaby.”
I flinch as much at his grim words as at the abrasive tone in which they are delivered. My breaths are coming rapidly; my voice is thready. “Do you think by convincing me you’re a monster you’ll somehow scare me into submission?”
“You thought I was a monster long before you knew I could command the flame.” He leans forward, bringing his face within a handspan of mine. As he does, he puts pressure on the leather cord, holding me in place so I cannot retreat from him. “Isn’t that right?”
I have no rebuttal. I had indeed called him a monster after he cut Thawe Bridge and killed the men crossing it. At the time, he seemed unbothered by my assessment. Looking at him now, I realize his indifference is a mask, shielding his true emotions more effectively than the helm he so often wears to hide his identity. Beneath it, there is something else, something I am almost afraid to look too closely at. A savage sort of desperation that seizes me by the heart.
“I thought you did not care what I thought,” I whisper—voice stark, eyes fixed on his, heart thundering at twice its normal speed.
There is a moment of silence. In it, I taste the same possibility I see in his gaze as it drops to my mouth, the same possibility I feel at my neck as the pressure on the cord increases a shade, urging me nearer.
Almost a challenge.
Almost a dare.
One I accept, refusing to be the one to flinch away. Not this time. I yield a few scant inches, bringing my face so close to his, our noses nearly bump. As the distance narrows, the tensionmounts—a treacherous give-and-take. Our lips are so close, we share each breath. I’m dizzyingly aware of the fact that if either of us moves even the slightest bit—me rising onto the balls of my feet, him craning his face down just a little more—we will no longer be fighting, but doing something vastly different. Something I tell myself I have no business even thinking about, let alone longing for.
And yet…there is no denying the desire that races down my spine as the moment lingers on; no pushing aside the furl of attraction that spirals like smoke in the pit of my stomach—the first warning sign of a fire that, if allowed to catch, will undoubtedly turn to an all-consuming inferno.
My heart skips a beat when, at last, he moves, bridging that tiny divide. His lips brush mine, light as the beat of a butterfly wing.
Not a kiss.
The shadow of one.
I feel each word he whispers against my lips long before they reach my ears.
“I would giveanythingnot to care.”