most of the rest of our walk to the wall. Part of me still fumed a bit about Ben’s perception of himself, making me want to go on, but I’d said what I’d felt like needed to be said, and something seemed to have gotten through to him, judging from his startled reactions and his quiet thoughtfulness now. Better to let him mull it over than stir the waters again with words that wouldn’t have the same power.
The other part of me cursed at my insistence on killing the mood…or shifting it, anyway. Goodness gracious, hadn’t I coached and badgered myself to nigh insanity for nearly an hour before I finally got the courage to go forward with my plan and ask him on a walk? Of course, half the reason I finally did it was because I was almost certain he wouldn’t even hear the knock, because no doubt he would have fallen asleep by then.
Just to be clear, I really did need a walk. As I had huddled in the bedroll on the floor, trying to stay still so that Yvera could drift into sleep, I’d nearly exploded from the energy that was filling me. If Ben hadn’t answered—as I’d half-hoped he wouldn’t—I’d intended to go on my own, confident that the way to and from the surface was simple enough for even me to remember.
Then he’d answered, immediately, and.…
Heavens. I had not been prepared to see Koriben Sunfilled, the drakón Heir of Flame, without a shirt. Probably one of the few reasons I was brave enough to squeak out my offer was that those rehearsed words were the only ones left in my head after my brain rebooted.
What must he be thinking of me? I groaned to myself as we walked in silence. He’d said not to mention it when I tried to apologize, but surely he had been at least a bit disapproving of how I’d stared, obviously unable to keep my eyes off his impossible perfection.…
But then…he took my hand.
He had done that at least once before, I thought. In fact, he touched me quite a lot: platonic touches of support and reassurance, little nudges of guidance and protectiveness. He did it so unconsciously, though, I always assumed that dramá were simply a touchy bunch, or that Ben at least was.
That’s what I assumed when he had taken my hand back there, even though it startled me that he would do something like that after my blunder. Still, his mind seemed to be on something else for a moment…until he noticed the temperature of my skin. Then, fully present, had refused to let me pull away—instead, tightening his grip and laying his other over the back of mine for a moment for good measure.
When we reached the surface, and he brushed his fingers through my hair.…
Surely that look in his eyes hadn’t been platonic. Right? Right?
But then why had he pulled away? Sure, someone was coming. But why not lead me down one of those nice, shadowy paths? Why remove his hand then and casually suggest we go to the currently brightest and most populated place in this sleepy farm town?
He’s probably being kind, I thought miserably as I followed him; my steps were slowing, but Ben, even lost in his own thoughts, was unconsciously slowing his to match. That was Ben: kind. After my ogling, he had finally realized my own interest, and for a moment, he thought, why not? He was male, after all. But the approaching voices snapped him out of it, reminded him of the things an Heir had to take into consideration, and he had concluded it would simply be cruel to give me hope.
And he was right, darn it. What was I thinking? I had no idea what he needed to consider in a permanent partner, but I wasn’t it. I’d been so caught up in just trying to reach for something I wanted for once that I’d forgotten why I didn’t make a habit of it: having Ben, even for a few seconds, would make losing him agony.
I’m really in that deep now, I realized in quiet horror. Too deep for casually making out in dark corners like I’d planned. I knew now with a chilling certainty that after getting a taste of him, of that warm scent coming straight from his lips, after being given permission to run my hand over his chest just once, of feeling his warm, kind arms cradle me in that way for once, even once.…
That would ruin me.
I nearly hung my head in defeat. I had only just begun, and already I was finished. But competitiveness was no excuse to do that to myself. Surely I had at least that much sense of self-love and self-preservation.
Right…?
Well…at the very least, I had that much respect for Ben’s wishes. I had made my play, as clumsy as it had been, and he’d given me his answer—one kinder than I deserved.
At least I tried, I told myself. I felt a flicker of pride at that. I’d tried. Small comfort though it would be in the days ahead, at least I knew now. That was more than I’d ever had before, with any guy. It would have to be enough with Ben.
Still…it was a good thing we were in shadows right now, and that Ben wasn’t entirely present, because I couldn’t help a tear or two from escaping. Only the tip of the iceberg, of course; I’d cry my fill later, after Ben went back to bed and presumed I’d done the same. Then I’d come back up, find my dark corner, and have a good, cathartic sob.
I was glad to see us at last approaching a brightly illuminated door in the wall. The timing was perfect: my couple of tear trails were dry, and I was ready for a distraction to prevent any others. Although I considered telling Ben that I was ready to turn back.…
“Ben!”
The purple-haired, purple-armored drakón standing guard at the gate waved at Ben enthusiastically. I felt a momentary spike of relief, as useless as I knew it was now, to see the guard was clearly male. The beard—which seemed customary on most of the men I’d seen—was a dead giveaway.
“Aldrek,” Ben said, coming back to the present with a broad smile. The two young men clasped arms. “What mischief did you get yourself into to be assigned to Kipeth?”
Aldrek groaned as they let go. “It’s a long story, which I’m sure you’ll hear about from Master Kressa. The better question is, what are you doing here?”
Ben’s smile faded a bit. “Crown—”
“—business, yes, I figured,” he said with a laugh. “I was actually asking what you were doing wandering about in my direction after dark. Don’t get me wrong, I’d heard you’d taken nightshelter here but didn’t think I’d be relieved in time to talk to you, so this is a nice surprise. But don’t let me get in the way of your pleasant evening.”
He winked at me. I just blinked back at him. When I’d seen the purple hair, the shade nearly identical to Yvera’s, I’d braced myself for him to get cold and stern the moment he noticed me. Probably silly of me to assume, but there it was.
Ben grew red for some reason. “Oh, er, this is Sarah, by the way. Sarah, this is Aldrek Battleblood, Yvera’s younger brother.”
“Please don’t hold it against me,” Aldrek said with a grin. “I’m nothing like her, trust me.”
I had already seen that for myself, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “I won’t.”
“Yes, you’ve seemed to make it your life’s mission to not be Yvera,” Ben said with a chuckle.
“Torch right,” Aldrek said. “She’s enough of an iceheart for both of us.”
“She’s not really,” Ben protested loyally.
Aldrek rolled his eyes. “Around you, maybe.”
He gave me a significant look that made it clear he, too, knew what everyone else but Ben did, and he fully expected me to have realized the same. I nodded slightly.
Smart, he told me silently and swiftly. But don’t let that make you lose heart.
Before Ben could catch on to the silent exchange, Aldrek said smoothly, “Well, if you’ve come my way, that must mean you want on the wall, right?”
“If we may,” Ben said with a crooked smile.
“You’re clearly not the kind of troublemakers I’m set here to block, so of course,” Aldrek said with a shrug.
He put his hand on the door, which had a gem like our guest rooms did, except when this one flashed purple, the color faded as soon as the door swung open.
“Although, if you’d like something with a bit more privacy—”
“I thought she’d like the view,” Ben said quickly, putting his hand briefly on Aldrek’s shoulder in farewell and passing his friend to enter. “Thanks, Aldrek!”
“Thank you,” I said with a wan smile as I followed more slowly. I intended that for the encouragement, too. As useless as it was, it had been well meant, and coming from Yvera’s brother, meant something more to me besides. I wished I had the inner voice to tell him that directly.
Aldrek’s smile faded for the first time. Don’t lose heart, he repeated. He’s smart in a lot of ways, and a torched good Heir, but he’s a bit of a dimtorch in this one.
I just kept my smile and shook my head slightly, then followed Ben inside.
We passed through a short corridor before entering the main interior, which seemed to be a much longer corridor stretching as far as I could see, with at least several rooms leading off. I could see what Aldrek had meant about a lack of privacy; even at this time of night, the inside of the wall was surprisingly bright and bustling in comparison with the sedate darkness of the pastures outside. I saw at least four amón—immediately recognizable by their normal heights, builds, and hair colors—and two drakón going about their business at a brisk pace. One of the drakón waved and greeted Ben briefly as she passed, but even she didn’t pause.
As we ascended the stairs, Ben explained the difference. “The Brightflare know they have to keep things dark and peaceful out there so that the herds can rest, but the need for defense never ends, so in here, they can have as much light and make as much noise as they need to in order to make sure all is safe within.”
“Efficient,” I said, repeating Kor’s diplomatic word from before.
Ben’s lips twitched. “That’s Brightflare in an agshell.”
I soon stopped paying attention to my surroundings and spent all my focus on trying not to humiliate myself with my inability to keep up with Ben’s natural pace on the seemingly never-ending flights of stairs.
“Sorry,” Ben said sheepishly during one of my many pauses to breathe and let the fire in my legs die down. “I didn’t think.… We can turn back if you’d like.”
My common sense screamed at me to take the easy out. I’d had enough pride bruising tonight, hadn’t I? I should just take what dignity I had left and go have my cry. But that thought only made me more stubborn.
Plus, there was my much less practical side, which told me I might not have much more time with Ben once things were over, even as a friend. Greedy for punishment, I didn’t want to relinquish a single moment.
“No,” I panted simply. “I wanted…something to burn off the energy…and this is doing a good job of that.”
That was the truth. Plus, the exhaustion might just help me finally fall asleep tonight without the cry. After all, a bruised heart was no excuse for being so dull and tired tomorrow that I wasted more of our precious time searching. Too much was riding on my being alert and attentive for me to keep pushing back sleep for self-centered reasons.
But man…I had found the sure way to make the rest of my time with Ben feel like an eternity.
Finally, we came to the last landing. Ben patiently gave me all the time I needed to find where my breath had gone, and when I’d finally stopped wheezing, I waved at him to lead the way.
He put his hand on the door. The gem flared gold, presumably recognizing him as an authorized person, because it swung open and allowed us to pass through into the night.
I breathed the cooler air in—deeply, deeply grateful to feel the wind, even as warm as it was, drying the sweat I was drenched in. Although something inside of me still didn’t release. When I examined the strange feeling, all I could think was, I wish they would turn out these lights.
So odd.
The bright strips running along each side of the rampart and crystals glowing at intervals in the parapet cast a helpful illumination on this otherwise dark, cloudy night. And yet, even though they weren’t any brighter than the ones inside had been, my eyes stung slightly, and I found my gaze casting about for the restful-looking darkness that lay beyond the wall.
My own strange words to Ben came back to me. I can feel the holes of them.
Not the stars themselves…but the punches that their light made through the void. Did I actually have a sense for…darkness?
Ben’s voice interrupted my existential crisis as he came to my side. “Pretty, isn’t it? What you can see of it, I guess.”
What? I thought, snapping my attention back to the moment. I realized I had come to the edge of the wall, right up to the waist-high parapet that was there to presumably keep absent-minded dark-seekers like me from tumbling to their deaths. My hands rested on the stone top—still warm from the sun—as if prepared to push me up so I could do just that.
I removed my hands as casually as I could. Besides, I didn’t need the heat. It was different from Ben’s warmth, somehow. More stifling.
I forced myself to focus on what I could see in front of me so that I could answer him.
Fortunately, at that moment, the clouds parted enough to allow a bit of moonlight to illuminate the scene.
It was pretty: the broad plains stretching on for miles, the rolling fields of grain and pasture, and, in the distance, a faint glitter. The sea, maybe. Hadn’t Ben said we were near it now?
My attention was drawn a second later to the highest point in my field of vision—a hill a mile or two away and about forty-five degrees to the right from us, either left to fallow or for pasture.
On the hill’s peak.…
“Ben,” I gasped, grabbing his arm.
“What is it?” he asked urgently.
“Do you see that?” I asked, pointing with my other hand. “There, on that hill?”
He followed my finger and shook his head sharply. “No, I don’t.”
He shouldn’t have been able to miss it. Unless it was invisible again…or I was hallucinating. That last possibility had my stomach clenching in dread.
“Sarah,” Ben said intently, annunciating each word precisely. “Is it a gate?”
I stared at the arched doors, the white tree emblazoned on its surface, and I swallowed. “That…is what it looks like.”
I looked up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding. Only he would know what this meant—and what we risked by going after it.
“What should we do?” I whispered.
Ben hesitated, glancing at the sky. “Did it only appear when the moon came out?”
“Yes.”
Now that I was paying attention, I could feel that pull, that magnetism reaching for me.
Ben kept looking at the sky, and he groaned. “It’s supposed to rain for the rest of the night.…”
One of his friends had warned him of the incoming bad weather during one of my breath breaks. Now the warning didn’t just mean we might get wet on our way back to our rooms. It meant there would be no more moonlight.
Ben glanced back at the other side of the wall, down at the settlement inside. I knew where he was looking, and what that look meant. Kor and Yvera were sound asleep, perhaps too far to reach in time.
Ben looked back at me. “Did you feel anything before? Was it there before, just hidden?”
“I…I don’t know,” I stammered.
Ben put his hands on my shoulders, eyes burning. “I am so sorry to ask this, Sarah, but we have to be sure. Was it there?”
I took a deep breath. Then I scanned through my memories, comparing it to what I felt now. While I came to the answer, I felt something else, something that frosted my heart entirely over.
“No,” I said with finality. “It wasn’t there, Ben. At all. But now it’s fading.”
The reason for the fading magnetism, the waning glow, was obvious: the patch in the clouds was moving.
Ben followed my gaze to the sky and cursed sharply. He let go of me and put his head in his hands.
“Rothen are circling the walls,” Ben said. His flat tone was obvious even through the muffling of his hands. He lowered his hands and glared down at the darkness outside. “I can smell them. They can’t fly, and these walls are spelled against their climbing, so they’re not a threat right now, but they’re torched fast runners. The moment we cross the permashield.…”
By that, I assumed he meant the magical shimmer that capped the entire wall.
He glanced at the sky again.
I swallowed. “We know where it is now. We can go during the day.…”
His eyes met mine, golden and hard. The eyes of an Heir. “Do you think it will be there during the day?”
My heart pounded, but I felt a coolness wash over me, as if a breath of ice were whispering the sad answer in my ear. “No,” I said with eerie calm. “It won’t be.”
“I was afraid of that,” Ben said grimly.
“We can try tomorrow night—” I began.
“You heard her,” Ben said, referring to his weather friend. “Rain until dawn the next day. Even if we knew it would be clear…it would be another day.”
A day of just sitting around and waiting. When we only had nine left. Eight, after that one.
I nodded slowly. “You know the situation better. Your call. But I’ll follow you.”
He gazed at me, eyes blazing with agony as the Ben I knew mixed with the Heir.
Finally, his face hardened. “Where is it? Exactly?”
My heart rate sped up, but I pointed. “There. At the very top of that highest hill.”
Ben followed my finger and nodded sharply, returning his gaze to mine.
“Sarah, what I’m about to do may disturb you, but there’s no time to explain. Do you trust me?”
I nodded immediately.
“Good. Remember that.”
Then he stepped back and, crossing his arms in front of him, pulled off his shirt.
It was a good thing I’d already gotten my cognitive failure over with for the night, but my cheeks still immediately increased in temperature. “Uh…Ben.…”
“No time,” he snapped, spinning gracefully on his heel to kneel on one knee with his back to me. “Get on my back. Now.”
His dead serious tone and my memory of the krathen snapped me out of it and I rushed forward, throwing my arms around his neck. Though there was a heck of a difference—in temperature alone—between climbing on then and now, I kept focused. At least mostly.
“Legs too,” he said sharply, bringing my legs around his waist as he stood. “Hold tight.”
Is he really going to change now? On the wall? I thought the question but didn’t dare distract him by asking it out loud. I just focused on gripping as hard as I could with both arms and legs—and tried to ignore the building heat in the pit of my stomach.
Though he really put my trust to the test when he stepped on top of the parapet.
As if reading my thoughts, he repeated, “Trust me.”
Then he dove.
I was too frozen from fear to even scream. I just clenched my eyes shut and tucked my head against him.…
I felt a sudden shove from both sides that pushed me into the very center of Ben’s back, then a mighty snap from either side, and our fall abruptly leveled off.
But Ben hadn’t changed.
At least…not much. I felt scales roughening into being under my hands where there had been skin, but Ben kept the same human shape.
Unable to comprehend what was happening by feel alone, I dared opening my eyes. Because my cheek had been pressed against his shoulder, the first thing I saw other than the night sky was a large, outstretched wing. Not as large as a dragon’s wing, but the same shape…and color…as Ben’s.
Suddenly, I got a glimmer of understanding about what was pinching me from both sides.
I gasped, shifting to get a better look.
Hold still! Ben cried. This is hard enough without you throwing me off balance!
I froze in place. “You’re.… You’re.…” I babbled, but fortunately, my nonsense words were probably lost on the wind of our gliding passage.
We’re coming in fast, Ben said grimly. But the rothen are faster, and they’ve spotted us. Can you get the doors to open from a distance?
I still didn’t know what rothen were, but I thought I heard an insect-like chittering from below, and I really didn’t want to find the source.
After a moment, he added, Without moving your head much?
Without moving another muscle in my body, I turned my head up and got a sideways view of the moongate. The perspective and speed were dizzying, but with the focus and instincts born only from adrenaline, I reached forward with that something that connected me to those doors and pushed with all my might.
It felt like trying to move a mountain with nothing more than my eighteen-year-old, untrained muscles. Somehow, miraculously…that mountain moved. The doors began slowly swinging inward.
It wasn’t enough. We were still going too fast, and the growing crack wasn’t wide enough. I felt new tears stinging my eyes in the wind. My strength was draining from me dangerously fast. I could see black at the edges of my vision.
Just as we were about to smack into the doors like bugs on a windshield—or so I thought—Ben flexed his wings to turn them, and us, perpendicular to the ground, so we soared straight through the crack.
Flashes of light, so much light as my little helpers swarmed us in a bright cocoon.…
Then I finally found darkness.