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)
I feel another stupid smile crossing my mouth. "Are you saying you care about me?"
Raith almost rolls his eyes. "No. I just dedicate the majority of my waking hours to worrying about your safety. I spend hours training you, keeping an eye on you, and thinking about you because I don't give a shit about you."
I lower my eyes, but Raith crooks his index finger and lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Of course I fucking care about you, Nessa. If that wasn't clear to you by now, I'm going to be worried about your observation skills. But we need to keep moving if we're going to get you back in time for classes."
I don't trust myself to speak, so I swallow my words and hope the way my heart flutters isn't as obvious as it feels.
We emerge from the tree line to find ourselves at the edge of a massive quarry—a vast bowl carved from the mountainside, its steep walls plunging to a relatively flat center. Ancient mining equipment lies abandoned around the perimeter, and at the quarry's deepest point, a dark pool of water glimmers in the sunlight.
"This is it?" I ask, momentarily distracted by the sheer scale of the place.
Raith nods, surveying the terrain with a critical eye. "Perfect for an elemental battleground. Earth affinities have raw material to work with, water has the pool, air has open space, and fire..." He gestures to the dry brush that dots the quarry floor. "Plenty of fuel."
I walk to the edge, peering down at the drop. At least sixty feet to the quarry floor, with few obvious paths for descent.
"All we can really do is guess, but I think this place is where it will happen," Raith continues, coming to stand beside me. "Could be that we'll start here in the quarry itself. Like a bloodbath. Or it could be that this is the final battleground. Maybe we'll be out in the woods and have to work our way here. I'm not sure yet..."
The wind shifts, carrying his scent. I find myself greedily breathing it in, drinking in the automatic comfort it brings.
We kneel at the top of the quarry's edge in silence for a few moments before I speak. I know my mind should be on the Crucible, but I find myself picking over every word he's said since we left campus. "Does Cade remind you of Gareth? I noticed the way you were with him. It reminded me of a big brother. I thought maybe…”
He meets my gaze, and pain flashes across his face, so raw and sudden it makes my chest ache. "I see some of Gareth in Cade. Yes," His voice drops. "The kind of person that's too good for such a shitty world. And Kiera would’ve liked you. A lot.”
I frown, surprised. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re strong. Compassionate. You find a way to live in the filth of a place like this without letting it touch who you are. It’s how she was. It’s one of the things I admired so much about her.”
I bite my lip. “Thank you.”
Raith gives the slightest nod of his head, eyes shifting back to the quarry as sadness seems to take hold of him. “After they died… I swore I’d make surviving mean something. Whether I needed to be a shield or a sword, I didn’t care. I just knew I’d make absolutely fucking sure nobody I cared about could be taken from me again. Nobody.”
In that moment, I see past the walls he's built—glimpse the depth of guilt and grief he carries. I see how the way he keeps himself aloof isn't emotional detachment or coldness. It's to protect himself from how deeply he cares. He can't bear the thought of losing anyone else, and he's terrified of opening himself to more hurt.
Before I can stop myself, I reach for his hand, my fingers sliding between his.
His skin burns against mine, the unnatural heat of a fire affinity, but he doesn't pull away. He doesn't even pull away when some of his fire starts to flow into me. With practice, I've learned to slow it substantially when I want, making the flow a trickle instead of a torrent.
The faint passage of power feels oddly intimate, like part of him is becoming part of me, temporarily joining with my essence in a quiet, private dance.
His fingers tighten around mine, just for a moment, before he gently disengages.
"There's more to see," he says, but his voice has lost some of its hardness. "There's a path down on the eastern side."
As we pick our way along the quarry's edge, I find myself watching him more closely than the terrain. There's a grace to his movements, an awareness of his surroundings that speaks of years spent looking over his shoulder. Whatever shaped him into the man he is now left scars deeper than the visible ones on his face.