Page 127 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

Chapter 33

Marked by Thorns

Orzen could’ve killed him in the woods. One strike in the dark, and Wren would be safe. Something bigger was happening, and until he had the truth, Wren was in danger. He’d have one chance to trap him, catch him unaware. Then he’d make him confess, one way or another.

She was right—he didn’t want to hurt people anymore—but after what he’d seen in the woods, Orzen wasn’t sure Silas was even a person at all. And he’d break any vow to keep Wren safe.

Footsteps whispered through the brush while Orzen waited at the edge of camp, muscles coiled tight. Heat crawled down his shoulders. He drew a single deep breath. Waited.

Silas stepped into the firelight and Orzen struck.

He hooked his arm around Silas’s neck, wrenching him backward. His frame was lean, but the strength that met Orzen’s attack wasn’t only unexpected—it was wrong. Unyielding, like stone beneath his skin.

Silas’s elbow cracked against Orzen’s jaw. Pain sparked white. Orzen snarled and slammed his fist into the side of Silas’s head, dazing him, but not long enough. He fought back, silent and vicious, as Orzen dragged him to the ground. They slammed into the dirt, limbs clawing for purchase in the violent scuffle. He drove his forearm across Silas’s collarbone, pinning him to the ground—fury as much as strength holding him there.

Silas didn’t shout. Didn’t call for the others. Even as Orzen drew his dagger free, heat curling in his chest, pressing the blade to Silas’s throat, the man was silent.

“Tell me what you are or I’ll carve it out of you.” Orzen’s voice was a low growl, sharp as steel and twice as dangerous.

Silas grinned, teeth flashing in the light. “Aw, Orzen, this is not the first time you followed me into the woods.”

The words tilted sideways. “What in the hells are you talking about?” Orzen’s nails bit into the dagger’s hilt.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” Silas tipped his head back against the dirt, cold green eyes glinting up at him. His expression softened—a mockery of heartache. “It was such a special night for the two of us.”

“Enough.” He pressed the dagger further, a bead of dark blood forming where it bit into Silas’s skin. “Tell me who you are.”

“Oh, right,” Silas continued, as if Orzen had never spoken. “You wouldn’t have recognized me. I looked different that night. More…feminine.” His eyes glittered with malice. “Faun-like.”

The words slid into Orzen like ice. Everything inside him slowed—breath, heartbeat, even the heat raging within his chest. The forest shrank around them, every shadow leaning close.

Faun-like. He saw it then—the figure he’d chased into the chokevine. The voice that had laughed, soft and strange. The thing that had grinned from the shadows. The Witherborn that had stolen her shape to trick him.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Silas’s laughter cracked the air. “You had all the pieces, and yet you were still too simple to see it.”

The mirth vanished in an instant. Silas’s eyes narrowed to slits, sharp as the blade at his neck. “You really thought it was her, didn’t you? You stupid fool.”

Heat exploded inside Orzen. He clawed it back. In one swift movement, he flipped his wrist and jammed the pommel of the dagger into Silas’s jaw with a crack. Silas’s head swiveled, but when he looked back at Orzen, he was grinning mirthlessly.

“You can’t fight your way through this,” Silas said, blood dribbling down his chin, so dark it looked black in the dim light. “There’s no protecting her from Him. You’ve lost, and you can’t even see it.”

Orzen’s control snapped. He wanted Silas to feel every blow—to suffer for what he’d done to Tommick, to Tavrin, to Wren. He tossed the dagger aside, throwing his knee into Silas’s rib. The scarred skin on his knuckles split when he slammed his fist into Sila’s temple.

Each strike landed—jaw snapping sideways, ribs groaning under his knee, skin bruising under his fist. After that assault, any other man would be coughing blood. Silas only laughed through it, as if the pain didn’t touch him at all. Black blood dribbled down his chin.

Orzen’s elbow drew back to strike again. Heat pooled in his chest, pressing hard against the walls of his restraint. He could end it now. In the moment, it wouldn’t feel like defeat.

Silas laughed, low and bitter.

“Do it,” he hissed. “Kill me. Let her see what you are.”

A twig snapped behind him.

“Orzen?” Wren’s voice wavered like it was about to break.

His breath stalled. The flame guttered in his clenched palm. He turned his head slowly. Her face was pale in the moonlight. Her eyes widened, not looking at Silas, looking at him.