Page 132 of The Reaping Rose

Regret is a sickness. It carves at the soul, slowly transforming it into something ugly. It’s a lot like the Well. A plague so empty that it eats and eats and eats until there’s nothing left. And still, it continues to search for more. Never satisfied.

It eats away at me, and I let it.

“We’re getting closer.” I glance up at the rustling branches.

There isn’t enough wind to move them. Something else vibrates through this part of the forest. A steady thrum that can only be that of the orb as we draw closer.

“What’s the plan when we find him?” Atlas asks, and I quirk an eyebrow, surprised he’s deferring to me when I sense he’s used to being the warrior others listen to.

“We can’t take out Malachi ourselves. We get close enough to find out where he is and what he’s planning, and then we leave,” I say.

That reality has my stomach flipping over. I’d like to walk up to Malachi and plant my sword in his heart—maybe I will. But we all saw what happened when Selia did that in the Ley Court. An attack against Malachi when he’s wielding the orb will only get us killed.

Hopefully, in the heat of the moment, I’ll remember that.

“Do you think they found the void?”

I glance up at Atlas, smirking. “If anyone can, it’s Elorie.”

He chuckles, nodding. “She’s going to keep Wilder on his toes.”

“Seems he could use it.” I shrug.

Atlas hums in response.

“What about you?” My voice pitches, and I hate that it gives me away. “How many females currently keep you on your toes?”

He tips his head back in a laugh. “None like you, Greer.”

That answer makes my heart stutter.

Pathetic. Irritating. Heart.

“I tried once.” Atlas drags his hand through his hair, which is left loose today. “I tried to settle.”

“What was her name?”

“Ahlia. She was a member of my father’s army. We were sent to scout the situation in Tael when the Well first started spreading. She was too kind to be on the front lines of battle.”

I look up, knowing too well it’s not an insult. If anything, I wish that were me. Someone with a heart who couldn’t stand the thought of another at the end of my blade.

“When the eastern island was drained, she refused to leave. There were Fae not willing to abandon their home, and she wouldn’t let it go. She swore she’d find a way to get them back.” He drops his chin. “She suffered the Beating. Died within weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, though it feels insignificant. “Did you love her?”

“I cared about her…” Atlas glances over, spearing me with his gaze. “But those like us were built for battle and blood, not love.”

It’s a sentiment I know too well, even if I sense the hurt he hides behind those words.

“You?” he asks, and I shake my head, not elaborating.

I’ve never loved, and I don’t plan on it now. Gods forbid I ever meet my mate. If I do, maybe I’ll choose to reject the bond. There’s no point in opening myself up to that vulnerability. Who knows, maybe with the defenses I’ve fortified to this point, I’ll never feel the mating bond at all. It’s not something as obvious as some might think. There are those who know the second they meet their mate, and there are others who have to accept it for it to become clear. I have no intention of entertaining a connection with another, much less a mating bond. Maybe I’ll get lucky and never feel it.

A shadow shifts on my left, and Atlas moves with me, both of us unsheathing our swords when darkness creeps over the trees.

The closer we get to the orb, the more dangerous the forest becomes.

“We need to find shelter for the night,” Atlas whispers.