Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
"Can't you?" I tease. "Because lately it seems like whenever I turn around, you're there. Lurking in shadows, swooping in to save the day."
"I don't lurk," he protests.
"You absolutely lurk. It's very mysterious and brooding."
A student passes by, glancing curiously at us before hurrying on.
"Go," Raith says again, taking a step back. "Before someone sees us together and adds more fuel to Malakai's rumors."
We part ways at the junction, each heading toward our respective classes. I can feel his eyes on my back as I walk away, watchful, protective.
My guard dog, as some have started calling him. But there's more to it than that—more to him than the dangerous exterior he shows the world. The gentleness with Cade had revealed that much. The mention of Gareth had shown even more.
"He carries much pain," Typhon observes, uncharacteristically somber. "Pain and purpose intertwined."
"I know." And I do know, somehow. I can see it in the way he moves, the way he keeps a barrier between himself and others, the way he tries to hold himself apart from me. Raith Hollow is a man with ghosts, with burdens I can only begin to guess at.
But for all his warnings about danger—about himself being dangerous for me—I can't bring myself to stay away. Something about him calls to me, draws me in despite every rational thought telling me to keep my distance.
Maybe we're both a little reckless, a little broken. Maybe that's why we keep circling each other, unable to fully connect, unable to fully let go.
As I slip into channeling class, murmuring apologies for my tardiness, I can still see the fierce protectiveness in his eyes when he faced down those earths. Still hear the rough edge in his voice when he spoke his brother's name.
Gareth. A piece of the puzzle that is Raith Hollow. Not the whole picture, not by far, but a start.
Tomorrow, I decide. Tomorrow I'll push a little harder, dig a little deeper. Tomorrow I'll try to understand the man who seems determined to protect me while keeping me at arm's length.
I just hope we have enough tomorrows left.
27
"We need to talk."
Raith's voice startles me as he materializes from the shadows just outside the water tower. I nearly drop my flask, glancing around to make sure no one has noticed us. Some fourth-years are arguing in low voices nearby—a pair of fires and earths, their elementals on display as tempers seem to run high.
"About what?" I ask, keeping my voice low, though I don't know why, exactly. Everybody’s attention is on the arguing fourth-years.
"Not here." His eyes—amber in the morning light—scan the tower stairs behind me. "Meet me at the eastern gate in an hour. Wear something you can move in."
I arch an eyebrow. It is a weekend, so our class schedule is light. I had been planning to find an empty room to practice pretending to be a water affinity. Sestra has been threatening some kind of exam, and I want to be ready when it comes.
"Something I can move in? Are we training again?"
"Better than training." For a moment, something almost playful flashes across his face. "I want to show you something."
Before I can ask more questions, he slips away, footsteps silent against the stone floor. I watch him go, curiosity piqued despite my better judgment.
An hour later, I'm waiting by the eastern gate, dressed in my training leathers with my practice rapier secured at my hip. The guard station beside the main gates leading outside the castle stands empty—unusual for midday—but I don't question the stroke of luck.
"They rotate guards at this hour." Raith appears beside me, seemingly from nowhere. "Usually, they stop for a game of dice before returning to their posts, meaning we've still got a bit."
"How do you know these things?" I ask. It's far from the first time Raith has known something he should have no way to know.
He offers a cryptic smile. "I pay attention."
He looks... amazing. He wears the black aspirant uniform trimmed in silver like the majority of students at Confluence, but he wears it so damn well. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Thick arms corded with muscle. And his face. Gods. Even with the majority of the left side twisted by scars, he's beautiful.
He wears his training sword across his back. By now, every last first-year knows he’s the deadliest of all of us with that blade.
"So... we're leaving the grounds?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice. Students rarely leave Confluence except under very specific circumstances. We're prisoners here in all but name.
"If you’re afraid, we could skip it." There's a challenge in his eyes, and something else—an invitation.
"Lead the way," I answer, refusing to be baited.
We slip through the gate, cross the grassy field that still bears faint signs of the divots driven by hundreds of carts arriving to drop us off after Selection Day. Beyond the field is what looks like endless forest. I expect Raith to immediately set a punishing pace, as he does in our training sessions, but instead he matches his stride to mine, our shoulders occasionally brushing as we navigate the uneven terrain.