Kyra’s hands were still crusted with James’s blood. Somehow, through all the transformations, fighting, and fleeing, it had stayed on. Kyra stared at her fingers until her eyes blurred. What had James been to her? At different times, he’d been a Guildleader, an infatuation, an enemy, and a co-conspirator. And now he was dead at her hands. He’d wanted her to be an assassin. Today he’d been her mark.
Kyra saw again the pain in his face as he’d died. Why had she stabbed him in the stomach? She’d meant to cut his throat, but then the Red Shields had come after her, and she’d simply acted. Kyra had thought to kill him as an act of mercy, but had there been a part of her that sought revenge? Maybe she hadn’t been ready to let James forget the pain he’d caused her.
Snow crunched nearby, and Kyra held her breath. Outside, the forest had fallen unnaturally silent. She grabbed her dagger and ran to the cave mouth. Someone stepped out of the trees.
“Tristam?” Kyra asked. Her voice shook.
He stepped fully into view. “You left a trail. I tried to obscure it as best I could.” He held out a cloak and a pair of boots—hers. “I don’t think anyone saw me grab these.”
“Thank you.” She came out of the cave and took her things, tucking them under one arm. Tristam’s eyes flickered over her, taking in her ragged appearance. He didn’t look too good himself. There was dirt on his tunic, and the skin on one side of his face looked raw. But the worst was the caution in his eyes, the way he stood as if he expected her to change shape at any moment.
“I’m so sorry.” Kyra’s voice broke.
He didn’t respond right away, and Kyra wondered if this had finally turned him away from her forever.
“Are you…back to yourself?” he finally asked.
She nodded, closing her eyes. “The Red Shields. How many…?”
“Four had minor injuries to be treated. One lost a great deal of blood but should survive.”
Her knees buckled with relief, and she touched a tree for support. “Thank you for stopping me.” When she’d faced the soldiers, they’d seemed nothing more than nameless enemies, helpless targets. But they’d had families and children.
“You’re shaking,” Tristam said. He took her hand and led her back to the cave. She was grateful for his touch and that he didn’t refuse to be close to her. But still, he was so careful in the way he moved, so on his guard.
“I thought I could control it,” she said. But was that even true? She’d been scared, hemmed in by soldiers, and taking her other form had seemed her only way out. Her life or theirs. She’d made her choice, though there had been eight of them and one of her. “I don’t think I should change shape again,” she said.
He didn’t argue. They sat just inside the cave entrance. The afternoon sunlight came in at an angle and illuminated the dust in front of them.
“How many people have you killed, as a soldier?” she asked.
“Two,” he said quietly. “The first time, we happened upon brigands attacking a trade caravan. The second was near my manor. It was the same thing, except they were looting a farm.”
“How did it…make you feel afterward?”
He took his time answering, as if he knew how much hung in the balance. “It was hard, looking into the eyes of someone who was dying and knowing it was my doing.”
Did he feel a rush of power when he killed? An overwhelming desire to draw more blood? She couldn’t ask, but she suspected she knew the answer. “James held my eyes when I killed him,” she said. “He wouldn’t let me look away.” Of course James would know what those last moments were like. Of course he’d insist on that last connection.
“Why did you do it?” asked Tristam. “That much planning, that much risk, just to spare him the last few hours?”
“I couldn’t let him die like that.” It didn’t make sense. Even Kyra didn’t quite understand the common thread of purpose that bound James and her together. They’d hurt each other so many times, yet some part of her had felt she owed him this. “He said something to me before he died. He told me to choose my fight.”
“Your fight?” Tristam echoed. “And what is that?”
She rubbed at her fingers to get the blood off. “I don’t know.”