The Glass Arrow(95)

When I rise, Kiran’s staring at me, rubbing the line between his brows with his thumb.

I listen, thinking he’s doing the same, but hear nothing but the birds.

“It’s too quiet.” I roll my tense shoulders.

Kiran is still staring.

It occurs to me that I should thank him. I doubt he’s waiting for it, but I don’t want him to think I’ve taken all his risks for granted. He might be used to sticking his neck out for other Drivers, but I’m not used to anyone doing it for me. But when I try to express my gratitude, the words get stuck in my throat.

“What is it?” His voice cracks a little. These last hours are wearing him thin.

I hesitate, wanting to get back on Dell, but knowing she needs a little more time to rest. Carrying two bodies half the night is taking its toll on her. She’s lathered in sweat, with white salt lines beside her girth.

“Just … Lorcan. I keep thinking about what he did last night.”

I don’t know why I say this, but it makes some of the pressure between us go away.

Kiran gives a curt nod. “Old man took care of things, didn’t he?”

“He protected the other Drivers.”

Kiran steps closer, and now we’re only an arm’s length apart. His eyes are glimmering like the river stones, and the way he’s looking at me is like he’s touching me. Like I can feel his gaze skimming my skin, making me warm.

“I hate to tell you, Aya, but sometimes you have a hard time seeing what’s right in front of you.” A ghost of a smile plays across his lips.

I take a step back.

“If he wanted to be my father, he would have stayed close instead of always running away.”

“Maybe it was too hard to spend every day staring at your ma’s scars.”

My temper rises. “How dare—”

“Because,” he pushes on, “because he knew he’d been the one to do it.”

He lifts his hand and very gently trails an X across my right cheek, exactly the way he had the night I’d asked him to help me break the purity rule. I know then that Kiran wouldn’t have been able to live with my scars either. I bat his hand away, but not as strongly as I intend and my fingers end up curling around his on my cheek.

He moves closer, and just like when he first crossed the stream into the solitary yard, I’m stuck in place.

I swallow. “He didn’t hold the knife.”

“But he might as well have. Don’t you see how hard it was? He couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t laugh with her. He couldn’t tell her he cared about her.”

“Well, words aren’t everything.”

And before I can draw breath again, Kiran’s kissing me. Or at least his mouth has frozen against mine. He seems nearly as surprised by it as I am and smirks briefly before his lips soften and his copper-flecked eyes drift closed.

Gently, his other hand skims over my hair, coming to rest at the base of my neck. A quake starts deep inside of me and by the time it reaches my jaw, I know he can feel it. Something changes in his face then. A look I haven’t seen before, which surprises me because I thought I knew every one of them. His brows lift just slightly, and draw together. His shoulders rise, just a tiny bit. And it’s right then that I figure out the truth: Part of my soul may belong to Kiran, but part of his belongs to me, too.

I don’t want this moment to ever end.

With Kiran, I am the barest version of myself, not protected by my walls, not hidden behind the Garden’s makeup and dresses. I am fierce and pretty and my value is not recorded by some bodybook or measured by stars on an auction block. I’m not so scared, not so alone, and because being here with him feels so right, I know I can’t trust it. We’re in danger, and when Kiran kisses me it weakens my shield. I can’t defend myself from Trackers without that shield. I can’t protect the twins. I can’t let my guard down. Not now, maybe not ever.

I push him away, but it’s hard because the muscles in my arms don’t seem to work anymore. He blinks and opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Since I found out he can talk, this is the first time I’ve seen him speechless.

And suddenly, like a furious punch, I remember Kyna. Maybe Driver men are just like other men in the city; they think they can take their pick of whatever girl they want. Well I’m not built that way. I’m loyal, and if someone wants to kiss on me, they better be loyal too.

A crackling in the brush behind me steals our attention. Instantly, our arrows are loaded and our bows are at eye level. Kiran still has the guns, but he doesn’t reach for them. I wonder if he even knows how to use one.

Dell lifts her head, ears pinned flat against her neck, and Kiran places a steadying hand on her nose. She grinds the bit anxiously. Her mouth is edged with foam and sweat.

Keeping low, I follow the sound, softly placing each step so I make as little noise as possible. Ten paces away, I hear murmuring. Ten paces more and I see them.

In a small sapling grove are four men with horses. One is crouching on the ground, pressing his fingertips into what I’m sure are Dell’s prints.

Three of them, including the man on foot, are Trackers. I can see the flashlights on their hip belts and the nets tied to the backs of their saddles.

The fourth is Mr. Greer.

He’s wearing riding breeches and a silk shirt that shimmers even when the wind is calm. Dark hair hangs in crisp points around his eyes. His face is covered by a black scarf, but the pins holding it in place have been dislodged, and a hint of that jagged, raised scar on the top of his cheek sticks out.