Page 95 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

This time when he reached for her, it was easier to let him. He gripped her shoulder, desperation strengthening his hold.

“Read my memory, please,” he said, voice hoarse. “I felt the memories come up when you healed me. I know you can see them. I swear if I’d known—”

“Stop,” she said, pulling away from him. She hated the broken look in his eyes. It was too much to hold onto with everything else. “I can’t…not now. Maybe if we rest…”

He let his hand drop to his side, the fight going out of him. A heavy resignation filled his eyes. The clearing had gone still again, like it was aware of the tension settling between them, too small to contain it all. Wren gathered the scattered contents of her pack, feeling the pull of Orzen’s gaze as she did.

“She needs rest,” Garin cut in, quiet but firm. “Best we all find somewhere safe.”

“He’s right,” Silas said. “We’ve been through a lot.”

“Tomorrow,” she whispered, a ghost of a promise she wasn’t sure she could really keep. Orzen only nodded silently, standing and gathering his things.

Garin’s spine stiffened. “Someone’s coming.”

Silas lifted one hand, signaling them to stillness. He stood at the tree line, his eyes turned toward town. The forest leaned in, listening too. Then—faint but unmistakable—a crackle of underbrush breaking and the low murmur of voices drifted on the wind. Not fearful or aggressive. Searching.

“They’re spreading out,” Silas said quietly. “That’ll be the Tower’s Fist. I think they’re looking for you, Wren. I heard a few pass by before you woke, and they were talking about you specifically.”

He ushered them toward the edge of the clearing. “We need higher ground before they find this spot—somewhere we can see who’s coming.”

Orzen pushed off the tree, fastening his scabbard in place. “Theordrin…” A growl rose in his throat. “He’s told them it was you who caused it. That’s why they’re looking for you.” He drew his sword, though his arms trembled beneath the weight.

Silas shook his head silently. “Feel like you might’ve made enough rough decisions for one day.”

The two men looked at each other across the clearing. A long beat passed as the sound of the search party loomed closer. Orzen swallowed hard and shoved his sword back in place, shouldering his pack with a scowl.

“You know the terrain?” Garin asked, turning his ear toward Silas. “None of us are gonna be much help, tired as we are.”

“It’s my job to know it,” he said simply. “I scouted a little on my way to the village. One ridge east,” Silas said. “There’s a rise thick with leather oak. From there, you can see both trails. I’ll get you up, then double back—draw them off.”

Wren turned to look at him, unsteadily. “You can’t go alone.”

He smiled faintly and shook his head. “You’ve carried enough for one day. Let me take this one.”

They followed him then, stumbling through clumps of underbrush that snagged at their clothes. When they reached the rise, he helped them settle in. Before he left, Silas paused, scanning the trees.

“Stay quiet,” he murmured. “I’ll be back.”

He stepped into the thicket and was gone without a snap of branches breaking or rustle of leaves, only absence—as if he’d turned to smoke.

Chapter 25

Grief Among the Trees

Orzen eased onto a fallen log with a quiet groan, set his bag beside him, and tried to breathe through the ache crawling up his ribs. Nothing made sense. Not the forest’s clinging heat, sticky as sweat-soaked guilt. Not the silence they sat in. Not the way Wren avoided looking at him, like his very presence scraped raw against her nerves.

He folded her father’s cloak carefully, squaring each edge as if tucking shame into the seams. He’d never deserved to wear it in the first place. Certainly didn’t now. The bitter tincture she’d forced down his throat still sat heavy in his gut, but it had cleared the fog, strength returning—enough to realize how close he’d come.

If she hadn’t found him…

He dragged his hands down his face, breath shuddering through his fingers. Useless. Caught again. Always needing someone to pull him free, like a fool who’d waded too deep in a pond and slipped. It was the kind of mistake he’d have been killed for in the Brand.

Saved me. Again. He hated that she’d had to.

And Tavrin…He hadn’t known the man well, but the loss still hit hard. Tavrin had been a good man—kind and wise. Brunna didn’t seem like an easy woman to impress. And somehow, he’d earned her admiration. That kind of love didn’t come from nothing. Now, all of that was gone.

Worse, Tavrin seemed to believe people could change. He’d treated Orzen like he could be a better man, instead of a weapon pretending to be one. Orzen almost believed him, but lately, every step toward being better was like climbing up a rockslide. Every ledge he reached for crumbled in his hands. Still, giving up meant losing everything he’d clawed back since the Brand.