The Twice-Scorned Lady of Shadow (The Guild Codex: Unveiled #3)(22)

My neck creaked unwillingly as I looked over my shoulder at the remains of another building, its shape familiar despite the damage. “The sorceress killed your horses too?”

“Burned them alive in the barn.”

Horror snapped through me before a wave of grinding rage consumed it. If he hadn’t already killed that sorceress, I would have started hunting her right this moment—a desire made stronger by the sight of Zak standing beside me with the look of a mortally wounded man silently bleeding to death.

I grabbed his hand and yanked him into motion. Stumbling, he extended his stride to match mine as I swept away from the burned house, heading in the direction Ríkr had flown.

“Aren’t you the one who tore into me for not forgiving people for making mistakes?” I said sharply, tugging on his hand to ensure he kept moving. “That applies to you too. You need to forgive yourself.”

“Aren’t you the one who pointed out how some things are unforgivable?”

“You didn’t burn this place down yourself. You underestimated an enemy. If it was me instead of you, wouldn’t you say I should cut myself some slack?”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Probably, but that doesn’t mean either of us can do it.”

My fingers dug into his. His crushed mine. We held on to each other as we marched the length of the valley. I didn’t slow as we climbed over the collapsed fence that delineated former pasture and healthy forest. I didn’t slow as greenery engulfed us and the scent of green things washed away the dusty, bitter ash.

I didn’t slow until we were surrounded by the vibrant pulse of life and I could no longer sense the empty death from the valley. I pulled Zak to a halt. Tugging my hand free, I turned to face him and stepped close—then I wrapped my arms around his waist, rested my cheek on his shoulder, and closed my eyes.

He stood rigidly, as though expecting a knife in his back at any moment.

“I’m comforting you, asshole,” I muttered. “Should I punch you instead?”

He was silent, then with stilted motions, he settled his arms around my shoulders. He’d been a lot more confident when pinning me to a wall and kissing me. Emotional comfort was a foreign concept to both of us.

I drew in a deep breath. I exhaled, breathed in again, then began to sing.

“My young love said to me, ‘My brothers won’t mind, and my parents won’t slight you for your lack of kind.’ Then she stepped away from me and this she did say: ‘It will not be long, love, till our wedding day.’”

The wrenchingly mournful tune of lost love slid softly across my lips. Zak’s arms tightened around me, and he didn’t breathe as I continued into the next verse about a doomed bride-to-be who would never make it to her wedding.

“Then she went her way homeward with one star awake, as the swan in the evening moves over the lake.”

His hand touched the back of my head, his fingers curling into my hair. He bowed his head as he listened, his breath stirring my bangs.

“And I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear, and that was the last that I saw of my dear.” I pulled myself closer to him, pressing against his chest as I began the final verse. “I dreamt it last night that my young love came in, so softly she entered, her feet made no din; she came close beside me, and—”

“Stop,” he whispered hoarsely. “That … that’s enough.”

Falling silent, I turned my head, pressing my face into his neck. I could feel his pulse throbbing under his jaw, and his throat moved as he swallowed.

“I was hoping it’d be cathartic,” I mumbled. “Singing works on horses.”

“Saber, I’m not a horse.”

“I know that. I just … I don’t …” Embarrassment infused me, and I pushed away from him. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have—”

He clamped his arms around me, pulling me back in so forcefully that air rushed out of my lungs. “Thank you. For trying. It helped.”

I hesitated, then relaxed in his hold. “Zak … I didn’t say it before, but thanks for everything last week with my parents and Ríkr and Luthyr. I couldn’t have faced all that alone.”

My teeth pinched my lower lip. What I should have said was, “I couldn’t have faced all that without you.”

I drew back, and this time he let me. I put two feet between us before peeking at his face. He was gazing into the trees. Lines of grief creased the corners of his mouth, his eyes dark with sorrow and regret.

Reaching out, I entwined our fingers. He glanced at our hands, then curled his fingers around mine. Considering how much we’d hurt each other, he was the last person I should be comforting and I was the last person he should be accepting comfort from. Yet here we were, just two broken people trying not to fall apart.

“Any sign of Tilliag?” I asked.

“I called for him. He’ll be here soon.”

I frowned. I hadn’t heard him telepathically calling for the fae stallion. “Why didn’t I hear anything?”

“Because you weren’t listening.”

“How come you can snoop in on my fae conversations so easily?” I demanded. “Is there a trick to telepathic eavesdropping?”

He tipped his head back in a husky laugh. My fingers spasmed around his, holding on tight as though his laughter might blow me off my feet.