Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(82)

As the light from behind me fades to almost nothing, I put my hands out, guiding myself along the wall. My eyes adjust slowly, just enough for me to see the vague shape of the tunnel. Deeper, deeper, until—

Stone turns to metal under my left hand, and I know this is another iron web. Something moves behind the bars, paler than the dark stone, and I stop. My heart is in my throat and my hands are shaking.

In the darkness, I can hear ragged breathing, but I can’t tell if it’s mine or someone else, something else.

I see a light emanating from its cell, a light so faint as to hardly be there at all. As I approach the metal bars, I see it’s from a plastic star, like a night-light or key-chain lamp. It’s lying on the ground on the other side of the iron web. Lying between the paws of the Solarian.

I think distantly of the Solarian delegates that summered at Havenfall in centuries past. How sometimes they’d run through the woods in their beast forms, and other times they’d be all but human, sleeping in the same little eaved rooms as everyone else, eating in the dining hall, talking politics, dancing in the ballroom. Not monsters at all.

The beast is watching me. There’s something so aware in its posture. In how it holds its left foreleg tenderly close to its body. In its eyes.

Those eyes that look so. Damn. Familiar.

And just like that, something clicks. One more tectonic plate groaning into place, just a fraction of an inch, but in that instant my whole world warps.

My knees give out. I catch myself on the gate, threading my fingers through. The Solarian fills my vision, the only thing in the world.

“It’s you.” My words stumble out, a ragged whisper. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

The Solarian blinks. Black, blue, black again. Immeasurable sadness in the look she gives me.

And then smoke streams over her body, dark as ink, coming from nowhere I can discern.

When it clears, Taya is lying on the stone.



Her hair spills over the ground, the lightest thing in this dark tunnel.

She is naked, battered, and when the strange smoke dissipates, her eyes are closed.

I don’t even realize I’m moving, unlocking the door with the guard’s keys. Although my mind is still blank with shock, I yank my T-shirt over my head and drop it by her. In my jeans and cami, I run farther down the hall, softly calling out to Brekken.

There’s a moment of nothing, then the snick of a match flaring and an oil lamp flickers to life. My heart jumps so violently I almost think it’s going to tear out of my chest as yellow light illuminates the contours of Brekken’s face.

He’s sitting against the far wall of another makeshift cell. He drops the spent match and looks up at me.

“Shh,” I say, moving up to the iron net separating Brekken from me, and I put my hands on the cold metal, too finely woven to put anything more than fingers through. I unlock the cell door. “Your cloak,” I gasp.

He doesn’t argue, his face pinched with worry as he swings off his fur cloak and opens the door to hand it to me.

Taya has raised herself into a sitting position by the time I get back. She looks terrible, gaunt and so pale, with bruises marring her face, torso, and arms and legs. But there’s a determination in her expression like nothing I’ve ever seen, hard and permanent as if carved out of marble, and a faint glow lights up her eyes like oil slicks. Black, no color, and every color at the same time.

I open Taya’s cell door and slip inside as she slumps forward; I lunge toward her and support her shoulder with one hand, pushing the shirt and cloak into her arms. She holds them to her chest, but doesn’t move any farther. Her head is down, her back heaving as she tries to catch her breath, and I can feel her heart pounding where my hand supports her shoulder, like her heart lives right under the surface.

“It’s okay,” she whispers after a long moment, even though her voice sounds like she’s swallowed steel wool. “I’m okay.”

She straightens, and I back up from her and retreat into the tunnel so she can get dressed. My mouth is dry as sand, chills chasing each other across my skin. My heart feels like it’s about to leap from between my lips.

Until Taya’s voice comes softly. “I’m good.”

I turn around slowly, terror and shock coursing in equal measure through my veins, as Brekken cautiously comes to stand beside me. Two words take up all the space in my head, pushing out everything else, the memory of how to breathe, my own name.

Taya.

Solarian.

She’s wearing my big T-shirt with Brekken’s cloak over her shoulders. Holding it closed with one hand and supporting herself against the wall with the other, Taya gives us both a tight smile, her eyes lingering on Brekken.

“I’m Taya. Nice to meet you.”

Under other circumstances, I’d laugh at the look of total confusion on Brekken’s handsome face. After a moment, he collects himself and takes a step toward her, reaching his hand out, then seems to think better of it and stops, giving her a nod instead.

“Brekken of Myr.”

Silence falls, none of us knowing what to do next. Taya looks at me now, really looks at me for the first time, and there’s a question in her eyes, burning just as bright as the fire I saw there a moment ago.

“So,” she says, her tone determinedly casual. “It seems like I’m a Solarian.”

“I’m sorry I shot you,” I blurt out.