Page 86 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

I opened my eyes and clung to the determination Aren’s words had woven into my blood.

The weight of that promise pulled me forward, even as my boots grew heavier and sweat stung my skin. The wind intensified, and I followed Portia’s example, wrapping a thin scarf over my nose and mouth to filter the air.

Sunlight surrendered to bathing darkness.

We shifted into the shadows—the only chance we had of catching the Grayshell party and precisely why I’d been paired with a walker. Together, we could collapse the accordion of time and recover the distance separating us from the convoy.

Exhaustion seeped into my bones. My only reassurance came from the ragged sound of Portia’s sawing breaths as she climbed the dunes.

If Portia—bred and raised beneath the Paladin flag—was struggling for air, my desperate wheezing felt slightly less humiliating.

Never mind that Death’s sticky fingerprints were everywhere once we’d put hours between ourselves and Hazelharbor.

The Middle held firm not for lack of attempts, but for lack of survivors.

Aren had begun one of his lessons by explaining that excitement and fear produced the same physical sensations. Our interpretation told the body whether it was safe or in danger.

I’d spent my life—the previous three years especially—drowning in the latter.

Fear had devoured the joy, freedom, and pleasure from my world…

Until him.

The doctor in me understood that a nervous system acclimated to fight-or-flight wouldn’t recognize safety for what it was. It would reject the possibility that survival was secure and raise every alarm necessary to produce the familiar chemical cocktail of terror.

The witch in me had balked at the signs the universe delivered.

The ravens.

The snake.

The cards.

All omens of change arriving before Aren stepped into my life.

And still, when confronted with the uncertainty of desire, I’d clung to the familiar misery of isolation.

I’d chosen my sisters.

Duty over love.

Fear over faith.

Preservation over courage.

Whether anyone else knew it or not, I’d resolved to choose differently. To choose him, no matter how long I had to wait to tell the soul for whom I’d been carved.

Staring into the impossible expanse before us, I asked myself what Aren would’ve seen.

An adventure?

A feat to be conquered?

An accomplishment no other man had claimed, waiting for him to take it?

My stomach lifted and my ribs constricted at the mere thought of attempting the impossible, like that suspended breath when a roller coaster crested its summit before plunging toward the earth.

Maybe he’d been right.