Page 12 of Water and Wild

For several agonizing moments, there was nothing but him and her and the wind howling between them, ruffling the ends of Evander’s dark hair. His grip on her hand tightened. Her breathing slowed, evened. The shadows receded.

And the look in his eyes when she lifted her head was such a visible, visceral representation of everything he thought. See? he seemed to say. This is why I need to do this.

It cracked her wide open.

“Damn you,” she breathed, yanking her hand from his and surging forward, colliding with him in a flurry of slamming fists and furious sobs.

He let her hit him. Once. Twice. His grip found her waist, steadying her even as she pounded against his chest.

“You bastard,” she choked, her vision burning.

And then his arms moved up her back, tightening around her. His hands brushed her wings, and she hated how it was that easy for a whole new kind of burning to overtake her.

“I love you,” he murmured, his breath warm against her temple. “I can save you.”

A shudder ran through her. But who saves you? she wanted to say. She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. He smelled like the sea. Like salt and warmth. Like home.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Because despite her best efforts to maintain a modicum of distance over the past century, to protect the heart-shaped box in her chest, he’d become that to her. When the family Elyria had been born into had failed her time and time again, Evander and Kit and Laeliana had been the family she needed. This place had become her home.

And no matter what he said, no matter how much he loved her, he was leaving. And this home would crumble to pieces without him.

Elyria took a shaky breath. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could win. If anyone could, it was him. But if history had taught her anything, it was that the Crucible only took. Took the lives of its champions. Took the hope of the people, Arcanian and human alike.

It never gave. And if by some miracle Evander was the one who made it to the end, what it did give would not come freely.

Elyria’s eyes lifted to the sky, where even through the dusk-colored haze, she could still see the morning star gleaming—as it would continue to do until the aurora bloomed and the Arcane Crucible truly began.

They had so little time left.

Elyria would not waste another second of it.

So, choking back the sob that had been threatening to escape since the moment Evander voiced his decision, Elyria tipped her head back and lifted her lips to his.

His breath caught, his hand moving to cradle her face, his touch reverent. And then his lips were pressing against hers with urgency, fervor. His arms wrapped around her, two fingers running along the edge of her wing as he pulled her closer, holding her against him as if doing so might tether them together for just a little while longer.

She moaned softly, her core tightening behind her navel while her hands roamed across his shoulders, snaked around his neck. She tugged him downward, and his strong grip kept her body flush to his as gently—so gently—he laid her down in a soft patch of grass near the cliffside. He moved over her, trailing kisses down her jaw, the side of her neck, her collarbone. One hand deftly worked the ties of her breeches while the other crept under the hem of her shirt, drawing circles on her skin that made her shiver.

The rest of the world fell away. For a few peaceful moments, there was no Crucible, no crown, no farewell pressing in on them like a dagger at their backs. There was only this—only him, only her. Only their soft cries of pleasure and all-consuming, heart-wrenching love.

When they finally broke apart, foreheads resting against each other, spent for breath, Evander let out a quiet chuckle. “If you were trying to convince me to stay, that was cruel.”

A sad smile tugged at Elyria’s lips. “I wasn’t.”

And that was the truth.

6

THE GATE

KIT

Kit had imagined this moment many times on the journey to the Lost City of Luminaria. She had imagined what it would be like to stand in the decrepit, crumbling halls of the once magnificent Castle Lumin, to gaze upon the Gate and watch the champions take that final step into the unknown. She hadn’t been there for the previous Crucibles, but from what she’d heard, she expected noise, grandeur, spectacle. She expected insults hurled between the human and Arcanian champions, expected tensions to be high as both sides rallied for their chance at claiming the crown.

And maybe there had been a little bit of that in the days leading up to this moment. But now? With all the champions about to venture through the Gate and into the Celestial Sanctum where they’d take on the challenges of the Crucible in earnest?

Now it was calm.

Quiet.