What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(32)

Something had awakened within me, and it was only when staring down the edge of a blade that it felt hungry to live for the first time.

My fingers burned with the cold as I dodged his blows that were intended to cut me down. Minutes passed, the building power within me coming far slower than it had when we’d first fled. Then finally the freezing ice of winter consumed them, turning my fingertips white as I jerked to the side to avoid his stab for my waist. I reached up with those white fingers, gently touching the tips to the bare flesh at his neck.

White specks like snowflakes danced across his skin, the patterns swirling and writhing like the lightest of snow upon a field when the wind caught it. I watched them, mesmerized for a moment as they danced up his neck and toward his eyes.

Something heavy pressed against the front of my throat and the cut left by the priest, snapping closed around the back as my body felt weighed down. The white swirls on his skin stopped dancing, fading from view entirely as he sucked in a relieved breath. I wheezed, my lungs tightening with the need to breathe. There was no energy left in my body, nothing left to keep me upright as my knees buckled and I fought to stay on my feet. “You’re a clever little bitch,” he said, pressing the hand that gripped the front of my throat tighter into my skin and helping to hold my weak body up. The metal there burned me, lighting my skin on fire as I fought for breath. “But not clever enough to fight with my iron dampening your magic.”

He gripped my neck cruelly as he raised his sword and touched the tip to my dress. He cut the top button away, parting the fabric so he could see the skin above my heart. “It’s almost a shame to end it so soon,” he murmured, leaning forward until his dark eyes stared into mine. “I like a woman with some fight.”

“Then take off the collar and fight me like a man,” I hissed, trying to think past the press of his blade sinking into my flesh, against the burning that consumed me just from that minor cut.

He tilted his head to the side, studying the burning skin that began to char around his blade. “What are—”

He gurgled around his own blood, choking on it as I looked to his throat, and to the dagger I hadn’t known Brann still possessed. He pulled it free, sending a shock of red arcing through the sky. The Mist Guard crumpled to his knees in front of me, staring up at me as he fought for breath.

Brann wiped his dagger on the man’s coat, studying me quickly and stepping forward. He fought with the clasp at the back of the collar, yanking it free from under the curtain of my hair. I heaved a sigh of relief as soon as it was gone, drawing my first full breath since my shackling.

“It’s almost a shame,” I said, quirking my brow at the dying Mist Guard as something dark and hateful consumed me. That darkness within me made me bitter, taking joy in the sight of the man who would have killed me drowning in his own blood. “I do so like a man who can fight.”





11





There was blood on me, yet again. I was quickly becoming far too accustomed to the red stains on my skin, and the monster in me wasn’t as horrified by it as I would have thought. I’d felt guilty when I’d killed Loris, wanting nothing more than to stop the magic that took control and ended his life. I’d even felt bad for killing the commander.

But with this Mist Guard in the woods, I felt only pride in my brother for ending him before he could end me. He’d shackled me with the iron collar like a dog, and, according to his own words, rendered me unable to defend myself.

I trudged through the woods as the sun began to disappear over the horizon, the natural night coming without magical interference. It was less all-encompassing than the false night we’d spent stumbling around in the dark, the hint of stars in the sky now lighting our way.

My feet throbbed as the blisters on my heels where my boots dug into the flesh bled into the wool socks that made my feet soak with sweat. I’d been dressed for winter, but the weather couldn’t seem to decide what to do with the Fae magic. The air had the fresh scent of spring; the plants revived with vibrancy all around us, despite the frost we’d feared would come too quickly only a day before.

Hunger and thirst cramped my belly, making it impossible to think about continuing on for another day without food or water. The berries we’d snuck off the bushes in the woods as we passed them could only last so long, and I touched a hand to my grumbling torso as if the pressure of the contact could will it away.

“Look,” Brann said, pointing to a light up ahead. Through the gaps between the trees, I could just make out the glow of torch lights.

The brief rays of hope were quickly extinguished by the reality that being around people would likely be impossible for me. We had no money to purchase food or drink, and nothing of value we could sell.

Anyone who got a good look at me would try to dispose of me, and there was a brief, blinking wonder inside me at the thought. Would I hear the male who’d claimed me roar his rage before I died? Or would that only come when I was already gone from this world and wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway?

“We need food,” Brann said, taking my hand and tugging me to the edge of the woods. We watched as torch lights dimmed and then winked out, people settling into their homes for the night. I couldn’t blame them. I didn’t want to be outside either, when the Wild Hunt rode in the darkness.

“Wait here,” he said, giving me a pointed look as he moved into the small village. Nobody noticed him with the streets empty, at least not that I saw until he ducked out of sight. A few long moments passed with me waiting, considering continuing on into the woods and leaving him behind. He would be far better off for it, and I’d already endangered his life more than once.