Sam knew something had gone wrong the moment Lillian stepped inside. Kariana's arm was protectively wrapped around her shoulders. Her face was white as a sheet, and her green eyes had a spark of strange fear in them.
Sam expected Nyle to hobble in behind them. He didn't.
Standing up so fast his chair almost fell backward, Sam said, "What happened? Where's Nyle?"
"He's fine," Kariana said, her voice low. "We'll be upstairs."
A sick feeling stole through Sam's heart when Lillian glanced back at him, just once, and pursed her lips like she was trying not to cry.
That expression was all it took to make him realize his mistake.
"Maybe yours wasn't such a brilliant idea after all," Crynia commented absently, reaching over the table to move her chess piece on the board. She'd been beating him at that confounded game for the past half hour. "Checkmate, by the way."
Sam barely heard her. Locking his jaw, he took his jacket off the back of his chair and shrugged it on. "Come on, Darling," he muttered. "We're going to find Nyle."
***
The market was a place of sweaty merchants, stale produce, and seedy glares. Stinking, half-rotted meat was heaped beside a butcher's stall. Crynia wrinkled her nose as they walked by that one. Sam thought she looked cute like that. Then he remembered why they were there, and bitter guilt pushed through to conquer his thoughts.
Crynia blew out a breath, stopped, and reached up, gathering her dark hair and twisting it into a bun. "Maybe we should split up," she suggested, wiping the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve.
It'd gotten hotter the higher the sun rose. Sam had shed his jacket an hour before and tied it around his waist by the sleeves. The dry, cracked mud pavement of the road absorbed heat and radiated it like a baking stone. Sam felt like he was walking through a putrid-smelling oven.
Running his tongue along his upper lip to collect the sweat, Sam turned around and squinted in the dizzyingly bright daylight. People milled past him, some traders or travelers, others town dwellers there to bargain. But there wasn't a trace of a blond-haired Serpentine on crutches anywhere.
"Maybe you're right," Sam said, turning back to Crynia. "One more street, and then we'll separate. Meet me back at the inn."
"Right," Crynia agreed. Her eyes wandered to a stall selling white cloaks of some kind and lingered for a moment. "Hold on a second. I want to look at these."
She was out of reach before Sam could stop her or protest. So he followed grudgingly, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the sturdy log posts that held the roof of the stand as she unfolded a cloak and draped it over her head.
Pinning it beneath her chin with one hand, she turned to Sam and fluttered her eyelashes mockingly. "How do I look, Jackass?" she inquired, her voice sticky-sweet.
Without thinking, Sam reached out and smoothed a wrinkle against her raven hair, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. "Beautiful," he said, letting his fingers trail down to her cheek, watching the rosy blush take root and bloom under her chocolate-brown eyes.
She looked down and cleared her throat as he drew his hand back with a start. Her fingers fiddled with a corner of the cloth. Then she looked back up at him through her eyelashes, narrowing her eyes in the slightest. "I thought allies weren't supposed to compliment each other."
Sam grinned to conceal his embarrassment. It felt good, hiding behind humor again. "Since when?"
Crynia rolled her eyes, tugging the cloth off her head and laying it in a heap on the counter. "You're impossible," she muttered, walking away.
"And proud of—" Sam cut off when she stopped in her tracks. Barely saving himself from colliding with her, he tried to follow her line of vision. When he did, his heart stopped.
Crynia went pale. "Is that—"
"That's him, all right," Sam said.
A figure was on one of the high, flat rooftops nearer the vast expanse of desert sand that bordered the western end of the village, limping towards the edge on crutches. Blond hair glinted in the sun. It looked like he was planning to jump.
"Meet you back at the inn," Sam said breathlessly, and broke into a sprint.
Sand slid under his feet the closer he got. When he spotted a doorway, crumbling sandstone blocks littered around it, he ducked inside. A broken flight of sandstone stairs curled around the wall. Sam took them two at a time, noticing the untended emptiness of the single room. So the building was abandoned, then.
Nyle had reached the edge by the time Sam made it to the roof. In the shadow of a swaying desert palm, he watched, heart in his boots, as his friend set his crutches down, crouched to jump—and lowered himself to sit on the crumbling tiles of the gutter.
Able to breathe again, Sam scolded himself internally for being so paranoid.
Silently, Sam crossed the scorching hot roof and lowered himself to sit in the shade beside Nyle, letting his legs dangle over the twenty-foot drop to the sandy ground.
"Sorry," he said, gazing out at the desert horizon. It was pale yellow, with scattered green cacti sprinkled here and there. The hot wind caught sand off the dunes and swept it into the air.
Nyle stared out at the view with the same lazy intensity. But his eyes were different. Sadder. "For what?"
"For pushing you and Lil to resolve whatever happened so fast," Sam sighed. "I was stupid, and I hated seeing you both like that. So...sorry. Because judging by how she came back, I only made it worse."
Nyle snorted. "Couldn't get much worse. Your input just sped up the inevitable a little."
Rubbing at the back of his neck, Sam frowned. "Right. Okay." Unthinkingly, he scratched at a bug bite on his arm. "What happened, anyway? I've never seen you guys like this."
For a moment, Nyle didn't answer. He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over knuckles cracked from the dry wind. The muscles in his jaw tightened. "I kissed her."
Sam looked over and raised his eyebrows. "That's what's bothering you? I fail to see how you kissing the girl you like is a bad thing."
Then again, kissing Cryn didn't turn out too well.
"She was drunk, Sam," Nyle said quietly, his voice thick. When he gazed out at the endless sand, there was a strange look in his dark eyes. It was like he wanted to escape; to run and not look back. "I took advantage of that like the bastard I am. And it hurt her. It hurt her, and she had a panic attack because of me." Leaning his elbows on his knees, he rubbed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how to fix this, Sam. I just—I don't. Gods, I'm confused."
Sam knocked his heel against the wall and flexed his jaw. "Geez," he muttered. "That's a mess. You try apologizing?"
"No." Nyle ran his hands through his hair. "I was going to. And I wanted to explain. She thinks I was drunk, too."
Looking over again, Sam flicked an eyebrow. "Were you?"
Nyle made a skeptical sound and sat up straight again. "Punch-drunk, maybe. But not on alcohol."
"You should tell her."
"What, and send her into another attack?" Nyle shook his head. "That isn't an option. I know how it feels to lose control like that, Sam. To be terrified of nothing and not be able to breathe for minutes on end. I won't put her through that again."
"So, what, you'll lie to her instead?" Sam kicked the wall harder and turned, frustrated, to his friend. "She deserves the truth, Nyle. Yeah, you both made a mistake last night. So did I, the moment I touched the bottle. But you've always been honest, with me, and with Lillian, and I admired that. Don't lose it just because you're too scared to tell a girl you're in love with her."
Wordlessly, jaw clenching hard, Nyle got to his feet, stumbling a little as he bent down to pick up his crutches. "Stay out of it, Sam," he said. "Nobody asked for your opinion."
Sam pushed himself up with his arms, dusting his legs off. Evenly, he met Nyle's stormy gaze. "You need to talk to her, Nyle," he said, voice low. "If you have to tell her how you feel, then do it. You already crossed that line last night. Don't be a liar."
"Why don't you tell Crynia, huh?" Nyle said through clenched teeth, leaning forward. His tone was ice-cold. "Don't lecture me on honesty, Sam. We both know you're no braver than I am. Leave my business alone, yeah?"
"You didn't see her when she came in the door of that inn, Nyle," Sam said, raising his voice an octave, pointing into town. "The only way either of you is going to put this past you is if you tell her the truth about what happened."
"I'm walking away before either of us says something we regret," Nyle said, clenching and unclenching his fists around the handles on his crutches. Angry fire smoldered in his eyes, fanned by the wind mussing his hair. "This'll blow over. Don't make it worse."
The click-click of his crutches on stone faded out as he left Sam standing on that rooftop with a sick feeling in his gut and a heart heavier than it'd been in a while. The breeze blowing in off the desert was warm, but he shivered.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Crynia was waiting by the doorway when he finally gathered the courage to go down. She was facing away from him, eyes distant, arms and ankles crossed as she leaned against the wall. Little wisps of dark hair had escaped her bun and curled into ringlets around her face.
"Hey," he said, coming up behind her and poking her lightly on the shoulder. She jumped and turned to face him. Her eyebrows knitted when she saw his expression. He grinned to set her at ease. "We should head back. Unless we want to miss lunch, that is."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Crynia said, still frowning. Great. She was mad at him, too. Now he just had Chad and Noah to check off the list.
"How come?" he challenged, keeping his tone light. Pasting an expectant expression on, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
"Yeah, but Nyle and Lil are mad at you, and there's food in the market," Crynia pointed out, shrugging like it was nothing.
Sam's face fell. He looked down and scuffed at the dirt with the toe of his boot. "Yeah. So?"
"So, I have the money, and we're going on a who-knows-how-long trek through unforgiving desert tomorrow. We need supplies," Crynia said with another shrug. Smiling sympathetically, she leaned over, pulled his hand free, and looped her arm in his. "Plus, you look like you could do with a distraction, and my irritating personality should do the trick."
Sam narrowed his eyes down at her. She really was short. He didn't notice it much unless she was right next to him. "What're you saying, Darling?"
A grin that flashed all of her teeth lit up her pretty face. "C'mon, Jackass. Let's go shopping."
***
Countless water flasks, dried fruits, nuts, and articles of clothing later, Crynia and Sam made it back to the inn, laden with their treasures.
The sun was hung low on the horizon, casting crimson light through the streets. Shadows stretched long under the dunes and buildings. Sam pulled on his jacket against the sinking temperature, looking at the stars dusting the eastern horizon. Woodsmoke drifted out of the chimneys and settled in the streets.
Crynia's hair was streaked with reddish-brown in the setting sun, and her eyes were mahogany. Those little ringlets around her face had stayed, whipped wild by the breeze. Sam glanced away before she caught him staring.
The tavern was slowly filling up when they made it back. Sam spotted Lillian in the back at a table with Kariana and Noah, her eyes dull as she played a card from her hand. Nyle was at a table across the room, accompanied by Chad the Silent. He'd taken up mug-staring again.
"Darling?" Sam said.
Crynia shifted the burden on her back and glanced up at him, half-wary. "What?"
"I'm going to need your help with something."
***
"You should get Lillian to look at that."
Nyle glanced up at Chad, drawing his hand away from where he'd subconsciously been massaging his knee to ease the pain. "It's nothing," he muttered, wrapping his fingers around his mug of tea. It'd long since gone cold. "Just a little sore from walking earlier."
Unconvinced, Chad shook his head. "My master—in the blacksmith shop, I mean—dislocated his knee a couple years back, and it only took a week to heal. Something's up."
Nyle shrugged. Studying the pores in the polished clay of his cup, he said, "I've been riding and walking on it. It's just taking a little longer to heal, that's all."
Right, Chad's expression said. Without a word, he got up and wove across the tavern until he came to Lillian. Nyle's heart beat a little faster when she listened as Chad said something. Then it nearly stopped when she glanced at him, uncertainty and necessity warring in her eyes.
Necessity must've won, because she apologized to Kariana and Noah, set her cards down, and started toward him.
His gaze snapped down to his mug and stayed there as her footfalls came closer. Each one sounded clearly in his ears, even though they shouldn't have with the noise the growing crowd was making.
"Hey." Her voice sounded weird. Foreign. He glanced up at her face, but didn't meet her eyes. "Chad said your leg's bothering you."
Swearing under his breath, Nyle grabbed his crutches and pushed his chair back. "I told him not to say anything. My leg's fine."
"It's not," Lillian countered, putting her hand on his chest to stop him when he tried to walk past her. Then she seemed to realize what she'd done, and snatched her hand back quicker than quick. It made the aching black hole already in Nyle's heart double in size. "I can see from here that it's swollen. Just let me look at it and put a new brace on."
"Fine," he conceded tersely. "Where?"
Lillian glanced over her shoulder. "Sam, where'd you put my bag? The one with my medical stuff in it, I mean."
Rubbing the back of his neck, looking at the floor with a thoughtful frown, Sam said, "In your room, I think."
Something about his tone set Nyle on edge. An underlying note, like he was nervous.
The corner of Lillian's mouth twitched in what wanted to be a smile, but couldn't force its way past the hurt. She turned back to Nyle. "My room it is, then."
Walking up the stairs almost hurt worse than when Nyle had gotten the injury from the guards in the dungeon. Then again, maybe it didn't. He'd been distracted by worse pain back then. Now he wasn't.
Not physical, at least.
When Lillian opened the door to her room, Nyle noticed Crynia leaning against a doorframe a few doors down, picking at her nails. She caught him staring and gave him a tight, nervous smile. Nyle narrowed his eyes and turned away, following Lillian into the room.
He froze the moment he stepped over the threshold, and his eyes went to the wall automatically, where he'd ruined everything. Swallowing back bile, he shifted his gaze and watched Lillian rifle through her backpack.
They both jumped when the door shut with a bang. Nyle whirled, fighting to sustain his balance on his crutches. His heart lurched fearfully when the lock clicked.
Lillian shot up and crossed the room, reaching for the knob, swearing when it wouldn't turn. "Who's out there, huh?"
"It's me, Lil." It was Sam's voice. He sounded too serious for himself. "I'll unlock the door when you and Nyle have made peace. Not until."
"Sam," Lillian said, her voice shaking with rage, "I am going to kill you when I get out of here."
"I know," Sam said dismissively. Nyle's brows drew together. His voice sounded heavy, guilty. "Go for it. Both of you are mad at me, but if you forgive each other, I'll be okay if you never forgive me. Now get on with it. I'll be back in an hour."
Nyle stepped closer to the door on his crutches as Lillian stepped back, dazed. Bottling up all the irrational rage inside him for release, he dropped his right crutch, drew back his fist, and slammed it into the wood, hissing a curse, wishing it'd break so he could escape. Lillian jumped, startled, and he rested his head against the rough door, breathing out the splintered pain radiating through his fingers.
"Sorry," he muttered, bending down to retrieve his crutch. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"I should look at your knee," she said a little too quickly. Looking around, her eyes were frantic, like those of a bird in a cage, longing for escape. She pointed to her bed—just a cot with a tangle of blankets on it. That was where he'd laid her the night before, after she'd passed out. After he'd ruined everything. "Um...here. Sit here."
Obediently, he lowered himself to the edge, tense and uncomfortable, and bent over to roll up the leg of his trousers. At the knee was a thick white bandage, wrapped around too many times to minimize movement.
Lillian's hands were trembling as she unwound it. Nyle didn't lift his gaze from her head. Because as much as he hated it, Sam was right. They needed to resolve this...thing...before it tore them both to shreds. Or before his problems, always heavy on his mind, tore her to shreds. He'd promised to let her go. He wasn't ready to do that without making peace between them.
She stiffened when he reached down and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her, and her breath got shallow. Under his fingertips, her pulse picked up, beating a frightened rhythm under her warm skin.
"Lillian." He said her name softly. With a gentle hand, he cupped her chin and raised her head. Her eyes, mesmerizing green-grey like the sea before a storm, lifted to meet his, slowly.
"He's right," he said. "We need to talk."
"In case you don't remember," she replied, rocking back on her heels, looking down, "that didn't go so well last time."
"Yeah, well." Nyle scooted over on the cot and patted the spot beside him. "I believe in second chances."
Glancing up, Lillian studied him for a moment. Then she stood, taking a seat beside him. "What're we supposed to say, anyway?" she said quietly. "What happened last night can't go away, Nyle. You were right to say we can't forget it."
"Maybe I was," Nyle replied, rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers. "I think the first thing I need to do is apologize. I'm sorry, Lil."
Lillian shook her head and looked at him, her mouth quirking up. Her mouth. Nyle forced himself to look away. "It's not a hard thing to forgive. You were drunk, same as me." Her eyes met his. "You were drunk, right? I...don't remember everything. Some of it's hazy."
No, he thought. I wasn't drunk. I took advantage of you, and it's killing me inside. Sam was right. I need to tell you the truth.
But gods, was he scared. So he stuck with the lie and hoped she never found out.
"Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I got back early—"
Liar.
"—after Sam had passed out and—"
I'm sorry.
"—couldn't turn down a dare, you know?"
I love you.
Lillian snorted. "Yeah, I know."
"Does this mean we've made up, then?" Nyle asked with a grin. It was forced.
Closing her eyes, Lillian leaned her elbows on her knees. "I think so, yeah," she breathed. Scrunching her face up, she shook her head. "Sorry. It's just—sometimes I don't know why this happens. My breath will get short, and—"
"It helps if you pinch the skin between your thumb and your finger."
"What?" she said, opening her eyes to look over at him.
With a hint of a smile, Nyle demonstrated. "Like this. It used to help me push it back when I got an attack. Your mom taught me."
"Oh." Almost frantically, she pinched her skin until her knuckles went white. "Thanks."
Several minutes of silence passed between them—not an uncomfortable silence, like it had been all day, but a warm lack of words. Nyle listened to her breathe, how the air stopped rasping in her throat the calmer she became. Eventually, she opened her eyes to look over at him. Her lips curved up a little.
"You know, for what it's worth..." She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, almost grinning now, and her cheeks turned red. "You're a pretty good kisser."
Nyle laughed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Lillian looked at him, that quiet mischief dancing in her eyes. "I mean, it was a little hazy, but still."
Playfully, Nyle nudged her shoulder with his. "Not so bad yourself." Cocking his head, he said, "You sound like you speak from experience."
He regretted it the moment he said it. Her smile faltered, and she looked away. But when she spoke, it was still joking. "Sam kissed me once, if that counts."
Eyebrows shooting up, Nyle said, "Seriously?"
Lillian nodded, lifting her legs and crossing them on the bed. "In the supply shack, that night after the bonfire we had to burn all that brush from the expansion. It was a week before Philip punched him."
"I remember that," Nyle said, squinting at his hands. "He came to me afterward, and the bruise had just started to show. Didn't tell me he kissed you, but he told me just about everything else."
Something eager lit up Lillian's eyes. Curiosity. "What'd he say?"
Nyle smirked. "He made me promise not to tell you."
Groaning good-naturedly, Lillian dropped her head into her hands. "Of course he did. You two and your secrets."
A strand of hair fell over her cheek. She pushed it back before he could.
"Why'd you cut your hair?" he inquired. "I never asked."
Staring at the floor, Lillian shrugged. "Just needed a change, I guess."
A knock made them both look up. Nyle's heart beat faster as the lock turned and the door opened. Crynia's dark-haired head popped in, and her eyebrow went up a little when she saw them sitting side-by-side, legs and shoulders touching. She ducked out again, hand still on the doorknob.
"I told you it wouldn't take an hour, Jackass."
"How was I supposed to know that?" came Sam's defensive reply.
Lillian's eyes narrowed. She was mad. Nyle was inclined to agree with her.
When Sam poked his head in, his expression was wary and hesitant. "So..."
"Don't, Sam." Lillian's words were cold.
"Look, I'm sorry—"
"Sam," Nyle said calmly, slamming the quiet frustration that wanted to emerge in a cage in his mind. "Might be best to leave us both alone for a while."
"Right." The guilt that stole over Sam's figure made his shoulders slump and his eyes look older. "I'll take a walk."
***
Crynia's dreams that night shook her heart. She shot awake from the first—her mother's death—to sweat-soaked sheets and ragged breathing. The tears had eventually given way to troubled slumber.
Her mind drifted awake again, and she opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling dully. She wanted to lose herself to something, to erase the ache in her chest. Shivering in the cold seeping in the cracks around the window shutters, she turned on her side, pulling the thin quilt over her shoulders.
Somebody shifted in the bed beside her. A gentle hand touched her face, tracing her jaw. "Cryn."
Her eyes snapped open. She knew that voice. Too well. A hand clamped around her heart and squeezed hard. A face that she now only knew in her fondest, most painful memories stared back at her.
His eyes, soft, watched her in the dark.
Blue.
His lips curved into that smile she loved so much.
Pink.
His hand cradled her cheek tenderly.
Warm.
"You died," she choked in a whisper, reaching out to touch his cheek, to make sure he was there. "You left me."
His smile turned sad, and he touched just the tip of her nose. He'd done that so often, when they were together. "I know. I'm sorry."
A tear, silent, slipped down her cheek and hit the musty pillow. Her fingers found his mouth, his jaw, his chin. All the beloved curves of his features that she'd longed to see once more. Two years. It'd been two years since he'd run back into those flames, at those archers. All to save a life. Hers. "Why did you go back?"
"I had to, Cryn," he whispered, scooting a little closer, so his warmth soaked into her. "I had to save you."
"But I lost you, Sarin," she choked out. "I lost you, and—"
Sarin leaned in and placed his mouth on hers, swallowing her words and her sorrow. His kiss was warm, soft, insistent. So different from the hesitant innocence that'd been there when she'd known him before. Every place his lips pulled away and lingered burned into her memory like a brand. The taste of him stayed on the tip of her tongue as his long, deft fingers tangled in her hair and his mouth strayed to her jaw, then to the side of her neck. She sighed his name, forgetting where she was or why she cared. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him close.
His mouth found hers again, open, and she kissed him desperately. His hands grasped her bare shoulders, pulling her closer. Something was wrong. He tasted like metal.
Like blood.
Warmth touched her belly, soaking through her shirt. Frantically, she broke away, pulling the sheets away from them both. Red had seeped into her sleeveless shirt, dark in the night. But it wasn't her blood. It was his.
His wounds showed through tears in his tunic, jagged from where the arrows had been torn out of his chest and his stomach. His fingers left a streak of red on her cheek as he reached out to touch her, grimacing. "I'm sorry," he gasped out.
Crynia's hand slammed over her mouth. She scrambled off the bed, tears staining her cheeks.
"You wish to see him again."
Crynia whirled. The room faded, Sarin with it, and she stood as a shadow of smoke, facing the dark woman with stars for eyes.
"Who are you?" she croaked.
A smile graced the woman's dark features—a slight, curved impression in the inky black. "You will know, child, if you give yourself to me."
Her feet taking a step back instinctively, Crynia resisted the urge to run into the shadowed void behind her. "Never."
Angry light flashed in the woman's eyes. Darkness swirled around her hands. Then it shot at Crynia, jagged black knives aimed at her heart.
They hit her. Searing pain collapsed her lungs and sent her plummeting into reality.
She sat up with a start in her bed, sweat and tears salting her skin. The bare walls of her room stared back at her. Her sheets were tangled around her bare legs, damp with sweat. Breathing hard, she touched her lips, where the echo of a kiss still lingered.
She needed air.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she yanked on her trousers and tugged her jacket over her arms.
The tavern was dead quiet in the wee hours of the morning. Apparently even drunkards and innkeepers had to sleep sometimes. Crynia made sure she was silent as she crossed from the stairs to the door, inching it open and stepping out into the chilly darkness of early morning.
Dawn had one eye peeking over the eastern horizon. It wasn't enough to block out the stars, but it turned the sky dark grey in contrast to inky black. Smoke curled into the sky from a lone chimney.
Her breath fogged like a cloud in the cold. The chill seeped through her jacket. She shivered and bit back a yawn.
"Couldn't sleep either?"
Crynia started and turned. Sam was leaned against the doorframe, his arms wrapped tight around himself for warmth. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his sandy hair was tousled, sticking up in odd places.
"No." Looking out at the dark streets, Crynia rubbed her arms. She didn't want to be around anyone at the moment. Especially the boy she was starting to like far too much. "I'm going to take a walk."
Sam was silent as she turned the corner and started down a road that was busier during the day than most. She glanced at a man curled up by the wall, his hat pulled low over closed eyes and his frayed coat draped over him like a blanket. He snored softly as she passed him, and she smiled a little, shoving her hands deep in her pockets.
Everything happened too fast. A man with pale eyes materialized in front of her and slammed her against the wall. While she was dazed, he yanked a sack over her head. She only managed a single, strangled scream before she felt a sharp blow to the head, and everything went black.