Page 36 of On Burning Paths

Last night, I wasn’t completely convinced Talon even wanted my kiss. But now, here he is, asking for another.

“Well, that’s just discrimination,” Talon says, his eyes darting back and forth between Fenric and me. Somehow, he’s able to walk backward without a hitch, not even stumbling or tripping on roots.

"What would you know about discrimination?" Thorian counters, and Talon's expression tightens for the briefest moment before he covers it up, swinging around and falling into step beside Fenric.

“You’d be surprised,” he says, managing to keep his voice light. “I imagine that’s something Fenny and I have in common.”

“Don’t call me that,” Fenric says, as he has to all of Talon’s ridiculous nicknames. He tried to call Thorian “Rian” this morning and nearly got his head lopped off. Again.

“I bet we all have more in common than you’d think,” I say, glancing over at Thorian. I’m reminded of the thought I had yesterday, that we’re all running in these games, whether towards or away from something.

“Such as?” Fenric prompts, and I slip my hand off his arm, then hold both of my arms up as though painting a picture for them all to see.

“Well,” I say, using my thumb and finger to approximate a frame. “Think of it… we all entered, and we all want to win the Trials. And each of us, no doubt, wants the spoils to improve our lives after the contest. Even if the spoils are a sister returned home.”

“You paint with a broad stroke,” Talon teases, but Fenric is nodding.

“That’s true,” he says, tilting his head. “And by going through the Trials in the first place, we’re already members of a very selective group.”

“I plan to live in the countryside,” Thorian says, surprising me by sharing. He doesn’t make eye contact when he speaks, but we all listen. “Away from the city and the noise. Raise my own animals. Rely on others as little as possible.”

“Sounds bleak,” Talon jokes.

Giving Talon a look, I respond. “I want to return to my family’s manor. Bring it back to its former glory. Take care of the people on our lands and reward them for their loyalty. Everyone will be fed and happy, and we’ll have parties whenever we want, with dancing, desserts, and laughter.”

I think, but don’t say out loud, that I could be just like a woman I once met, Lady Fairewreth, with her gaggle of husbands all fussing over her. I could have handsome men at every corner, waiting for their turn to get a dance. Maybe those husbands could even be a stubborn man with dark features, a blond vampire, and an auburn-haired berserker.

Talon glances at me curiously, and I wonder if he can hear the blood rushing to my cheeks. I wonder if he can sense what I’m picturing and knows how crazy the thought is.

“Well, I want something similar,” Fenric says, taking his own swing at it. “A nice, big house of my own. A place for my mother, father, brother, and sister. Enough power that they’ll never be threatened again.”

“Everyone wants a large house.” Talon grins at me. “But I want an impressive house. And enough land that you could get lost in it. I’ll never get my actual family lands back, but I want to have a house and land that live up to the glory of my old home and name.”

“With, of course, your basement full of thralls,” Thorian mutters, and Talon points at him.

“There it is.” He swings back to me, eyebrows jumping. “The discrimination.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t want a basement full of…thralls?” Fenric asks, sounding worried that he might risk becoming one of them, with the question.

“I haven’t drank from a human in…” His gaze skips to me, and I flush again, thinking of that moment in the garden, his tongue on my finger, the taste of me in his mouth. “Well—” he amends, shrugging, “I don’t feed from humans unless it’s for intimate reasons.”

“You…don’t?” Thorian says this like he doesn’t believe it.

“The last time I did, it was a strange little cult that wanted me to do it,” Talon says, and for the first time, his veneer of humor fades slightly, so I can just make out his anger beneath. “Not all vampires are ravenous carnivores, just salivating for a bite.”

“Sorry,” Fenric says, raising his hands. “I didn’t mean to offend⁠—”

Thorian grunts, which is the closest to an apology Talon will get from him. Sighing, Talon pinches the bridge of his nose. “I suppose if we’re going to finish this competition together, it’s better that we get all this preconceived nonsense out of the way now.”

Fenric glances at me, and I know what he’s thinking: an invitation to question a vampire. His inquisitive little heart is probably bursting with the possibilities.

But before Fenric can forge ahead and start his interview, the sky changes.

It happens fast, mirroring what happened after the cemetery. One moment there's sun filtering through the canopy, warm and dappled, and the next it's simply gone, swallowed by clouds that roll in from nowhere, dark and heavy and moving with a purpose that has nothing to do with weather.

“That’s not good,” Thorian says, halting in his walking and looking up, brow creased. I watch his throat bob for a moment before he looks back at us, his eyes narrowed. “That’s not good at all.”

“You all are far too attached to the sun,” Talon says, waving his hand dismissively and continuing along on the path. “It’s just some cloudy weather⁠—”