Page 206 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“What is it?” Gavriel turned onto his side and hovered a hand over her shoulder. The thought of touching her made his stomach curdle and a flicker of panic rise. He swallowed it and let his hand come to rest, careful to leave the blanket between them.

It helped. Not much.

“I am such a fool,” she managed, voice pressed into the damp pillow.

“Why do you say that?”

“I was cruel to him,” she whispered. “I blamed him.”

He drew a slow breath. “You mean Njall.”

She nodded, nearly frantic.

Gavriel grimaced. He had never been good at this kind of soothing.

He cleared his throat. “You love him?”

Elara went still. Then her sobs returned with force.

Gavriel winced. He hovered his hand once, then set it back down and tried again. “I have to believe Njall knows you were grieving,” he said after a pause. “And I did not know Lorrain. But I do think she would want you to be happy. She would not want you to let anger stand in the way of life.”

He withdrew his hand and rolled onto his back. “Oorlon is truly the one to blame for it all.” Those words, though, he said mostly to himself.

Elara’s breathing evened into smaller pulls—unsteady, but no longer overwhelming.

The mattress shifted as she pushed herself upright. “Do you think they have gone far?” she asked, voice tentative. “Do you think we could find them? So I can say goodbye properly.”

He studied her. Blonde hair clung dark and damp to her cheeks. The urgency beneath the question was written plainly in her eyes, along with the need to close something before it hardened into regret.

The thought of leaving the warm bed, the safety of the room after weeks in the bitter cold and years in danger tugged at his fear. Unexpectedly, however, there was something about going back that called to him as well.

“All right,” he said. It had been long enough since comfort meant anything lasting. What was one more night without it? “We will try.”

Elara was on her feet immediately. They dressed within moments, gathered their meager packs without inspection, and hurried down the narrow stair into the Duskmerri evening. Wind and rain cut at their cloaks as they ran toward the border where human land met the fae kingdoms.

Gavriel kept his attention fixed on the thin orange seam of the horizon, and a choice unfolded within him as they reclaimed the path they had just abandoned. Though he did not yet know what this road would make of him, he felt that this direction, of all directions, was the right one. He was not yet clear of the narrow band after all. And whatever happened to him before, this was not the end.

Chapter 93

Njall

Njall watched them make their way toward Netherfen Hallows. He remained there long after they vanished from sight, long after the sun sank lower and rain began to fall, as though a weight had been dropped onto his chest, keeping him rooted as the ache twisted within.

He accepted it. He told himself that he deserved it. Elara’s anger. The hollow their absence left behind. What else should a male expect, after the life he had led, but to stand alone while the only warmth he had ever truly wanted receded farther from reach?

“What will you do?” Kalaetzu asked softly, coming to stand beside him.

“That seems to be the question for everyone, and the answer does not grow any clearer.” Njall brushed a hand across the hilt of his remaining sword, its pair long lost on Celestine. “I cannot even claim glima as a plausible refuge.”

“Well, at the very least, it appears they have found their answer,” Kalaetzu replied, tilting his head toward the path Gavriel and Elara had taken, wistfulness in his tone. "And that is well."

Njall gave a low, noncommittal sound.

Kalaetzu studied him, as though weighing how to say what came next. “Why not go to Aurumierra?” he suggested. “King Miraval has little affection for Norrelia. He may grant you refuge, especially given your lineage.”

Njall let out a weary breath. “I have considered it. But my betrayal of Oorlon will have traveled far by now. Miraval would hesitate to welcome a defector.”

“You carry nearly two centuries of knowledge from within the Norrelian court. Its customs. Its rivalries. Its intentions. More than that, you understand how Oorlon thinks. That is no small advantage,” Kalaetzu countered calmly. “It could be offered in exchange for sanctuary.”