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But I shake my head. “Soul Catcher,” I say. “It’s Soul Catcher.”
She nods and straightens her shoulders. “Of course,” she says. “We should go.”
We find our clothing, dry now from a night beside the fire, and don it silently, sliding on boots and weapons and armor. When Laia pulls on the scythe, she sighs, as if weighed down. She walks out the door first, waiting for me in the clearing, her back turned.
I close the cabin door firmly, taking a breath as I am hit with a premonition as strong as any Augur’s, that she and I will never return here together again.
LVII:The Blood Shrike
As I emerge from the forest, forever altered, I do not think of the words I heard. I do not think of what I saw. I cannot risk a jinn—any jinn—picking the thoughts from my mind.
Instead, I think of Avitas Harper. His calm, his warmth, the way he looks at me like I am the only thing in the world that matters.
It is deep night when I return, and the army camp is quiet. I find him pacing outside my tent, brow furrowing when he sees me.
“I know,” I say, for I have hisYou cannot wander off, you are the Blood Shrikespeech memorized. “But I had to attend to something alone.”
“Tell me—”
“I cannot.” I dismiss the guards near the front of my tent. “All things depend on my silence.”
“Blood Shrike—”
“Helene,” I whisper to him. “Tonight, call me Helene.”
He observes me for a moment before flashing that half smile that drives me mad. Then he pulls me into the tent, his hands in my hair, his lips on mine before the flap has even closed. I drag him toward my cot, and we topple onto it silently, frantic for each other, not even bothering to fully undress until after we’ve sated our desire.
Later, in the wee hours of the night, I wake, a chill running through my body.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, arm flung over my hips, still half-asleep.
“Nothing,” I say. “Go back to sleep.”
“You should too.”
“I will.” I kiss him and let myself look at his dark lashes, his scim-sharp cheekbones, the way his skin ripples as he sits up.
“Harper,” I say hesitantly. “Avitas...”
“Mmm?”
I love you. Such simple words. But they are not enough. They don’t convey what I mean.
“Emifal Firdaant,” I say to him.
“You’ve said that before.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “What does it mean?”
I cannot quite look at him when I say it. “May death claim me first.”
“Ah, no, my love.” He gathers me close. “You cannot go first. I could not make sense of the world if you did.”
With that, he closes his eyes, but I cannot sleep. I stare up at the peak of the tent and listen to the rain drum down on the canvas.Emifal Firdaant, I beg the skies.Emifal Firdaant.
LVIII:Laia
The moment Elias and I arrive back at the camp, the Blood Shrike pounces.
“There’s an issue with the catapults, Soul Catcher.” She wears Spiro’s battle armor, her hair tight against her head in its impeccable braid. “Where the hells have you—”
