Vassal Sterling D'Este (top 10 books of all time .TXT) 📖

crawl into her bedroll and sleep alone. Mountain air nipped at her neck and hands already, and the sun hadn’t set fully—it would be a cold, miserable night.

Alphonse fought back tears and started the process of getting her tent and bedroll in order, but only in the privacy of her tent did she allow those tears to fall, guilt and regret warring with desperate hope.

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Consciousness returned in pieces. Leaves and pebbles pressed imprints into Delyth’s cheek. Wind stirred the haphazard spray of her hair. Numbness cloaked her right wing, where it was trapped awkwardly beneath her.

Her eyes flickered open.

She was still at the crossroads, the track peeling off in three directions around her. Firs rustled from their posts on either side and the moon, bright for all that it was just a sliver, painted the scene in tones of silver.

Delyth’s head was full of cotton, her thoughts slow and fuzzy. She pushed herself up, one hand at her temple. There was a knot in her neck that rubbing wouldn’t move, and her wing was alive with needles.

It had been morning, hadn’t it?

They were deciding on a path to take, and eventually, Tristan had agreed with her. She’d turned to Alphonse where she stood with the wan light of sunrise brightening her face. And then…

Nothing.

Panic rose from her belly. Delyth looked down the way they had come, down both paths ahead. She yelled Alphonse’s name until she was hoarse, but no one answered. No one was there.

Why would they leave her? Delyth had proven herself, hadn’t she? She had Alphonse’s trust.

Right?

Had it been Tristan? He was the newest to their little group and still incredibly unpredictable. He had a lot to gain from getting Enyo to himself. If he had harmed Alphonse, colluded with Enyo somehow… Delyth’s hands twitched for Calamity. Her wings half opened. She could find them. Find them and kill him. Douse her hands in his blood.

She would carve him a new smile. Straighter and more permanent than his crooked grin.

Only, Tristan had been beside her. They’d been discussing which path to take. Etienne alone had stood near Alphonse. Etienne, whose magic could transform her wings.

A chasm opened up in Delyth’s chest.

This had to be Etienne and Alphonse working together. He couldn’t force her to abandon anyone. What had she done? Was it because she’d let Tristan join them? Was this some misguided attempt of Alphonse’s to spare her whatever lay ahead?

Gods, how selfish. You couldn’t just leave people behind to make yourself feel better about the problems they faced. Besides, there was no way Etienne alone was prepared to deal with the inevitable resurgence of Enyo. They had doomed themselves to failure, death, or worse.

Anger roiled beneath her skin, making an uneasy bedfellow to the anxiety she felt for Alphonse.

Gods, if anything happened to her…

The idea was too big, too unbearable. She had no idea how Alphonse had come to mean so much in the weeks since they met, but she had. There was no trying to pretend any longer. Delyth had to find them, had to convince Alphonse that she could bear whatever difficulties would face them, that she could protect them both.

At least she still had Calamity.

Delyth wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword, and for a moment, she lost herself in the tide of rage and bloodlust that came with it. It had been so long since she’d had to use it.

But she was still the sword’s master.

With gritted teeth, Delyth regained control and leaped into the air, her wings angled in the direction of Calamity’s pull.

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The sun had barely started its journey into the sky as Etienne woke, surprised to find Alphonse packing up. He was glad of it. Time was of the essence, and even a few hours would mean the difference between success and failure.

Alphonse was quiet as they hauled their packs onto their shoulders and made no attempt at conversation. Instead, she trailed along after Etienne, glancing over her shoulder every time he turned to check on her, perhaps measuring the distance between herself and their abandoned companions. Her countenance was haggard, with dark circles lining her eyes and a certain stiffness belying how deeply upset she was by this turn of events. She had forgotten to wear her veil.

But it was for the best.

Surely?

When they paused for water a few hours into their hike, Alphonse stood near the edge of the forest, her amber eyes locked on Etienne as he drank, though she glanced away when Etienne noticed.

Did she regret their escape? He was not even sure he did not. His every move was accompanied by the dread of Enyo’s next appearance, of having to deal with her alone.

And Alphonse looked so tired.

Etienne lowered his water skin.“Do you need to rest? We’ve got a good lead, and we don’t want to risk releasing Enyo.”

She smiled ruefully, and Alphonse crept over to the nearest boulder, her steps careful. Deliberate. “No. Don’t want Enyo to be released.”

Etienne relaxed slightly at her agreement. He knew that leaving the others behind was hard on her, but maybe, if they were careful, the two of them would be just fine on their own.

Sighing, Alphonse closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the sky, the soft morning rays dancing over the planes of her face.

She inhaled deeply.

As she exhaled, the few clouds skittering across the sun dissipated. Simply evaporated into hot mist.

Inhaling again, the day seemed to warm.

It was summer after all.

She exhaled and the leaves of the bushes and tall grasses off the path rustled in a phantom wind.

Inhaled, that sunlight gleaming on her brow.

Only…

That was sweat.

When had it gotten so warm?

In the distance, they could hear the whispering and rustling of the trees. The day was surely going to be a windy one if the breeze was audible from here…

Alphonse turned to look away from