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"Don't kill anyone," I say, still fighting for breath. Anyone else, I guess.
He looks over his shoulder at me. His eyes slip down my dress, gaze snagging on my chest, which I can feel spilling from the top of my bodice since he tied it so damned tightly. "Be happy if I don't kill everyone," he says, before slamming the door behind him.

Then, he goes rigid. "I can smell him all over you," he snarls. His eyes are alight with nothing short of fury.
"If I didn't know better, I would say you were jealous," I counter.
"Good thing you know better," he growls, our lips just inches apart.
We're both breathing too quickly, both fuming.
Just at that moment, the doors fly open.

"Any human with more courage than an immortal has a friend in me.”

"You are silver. Marked by the gods themselves.
They should be doing nothing short of going down on their gods-damned knees."
I swallow. It almost hurts. "I don't see you kneeling, immortal," I say.
His smile grows. "Soon enough, human," he says. "Soon enough."
Then we start down the stairs.

"Take it," I say.
"Poison" I give him my best smile. "No. When I kill you, it will be with my blade.
"I would expect nothing less, Aris," he says, before uncorking the bottle with his teeth, then downing it.

"Yes, and careful who you tell it to. Names have power. Sword names, most of all."
I lift a brow at him. "Are you telling me I should be afraid of you?" At this, he grins, revealing teeth that look particularly sharp. "You should be running for the gates, human."

I can tell he's fighting the sleep that's coming. He's fighting to stay awake. He tries to shift himself to be more upright, but his eyes are blinking closed. He's losing consciousness. I pull back, so I'm right in front of him.
I shrug a shoulder. "It's okay. I'1l be with you," I say, meaning it as a mocking threat.
It's the last thing he hears before he goes under.

Fuck shame. Fuck hiding. I've been through too much-this body has survived too much to be ashamed of itself.
I rip my shirt over my head and throw it to the ground. Only the tight band of fabric around my breasts remains. He sees it all now.
Silver. Thin roots of silver, faintly sparkling through the remaining darkness.
The exact color a knight like him has trained to hunt and kill.

I look at Raker, and I see mercilessness.
But I also see the knight that carried me until I woke up. That has trained me, every day since I marked him, like he wants me to be able to do it again.

I don't know how long Raker carried me, just that when I finally look up from his neck, sun is pouring down into the forest, right above us.
My body is curled tightly against his chest.
There's a mess of vines blocking our path, and he shifts my weight to one arm, pulls his sword out with the other, slashes the vines to pieces, then sheaths it again. All in one smooth motion. Then both his arms are holding me again.

Fuck. Him.
"I hate you," I spit into his face, my bones screaming against his pres-sure, our swords clashed between us.
"Hate. Me." He pushes against my blade. "Harder," he growls.
Then his blade pulls back and slams against mine with such force, my back hits the cliff face. A gasp spills from my lips.

"You hate me?" he demands, spitting the words.
"Yes," I reply, falling into my stance. The one he helped me perfect.
"Prove it."
Then his sword is hurling toward my neck.

I get to my feet and stumble toward him. I stab my finger into his chest and say with every smelted inch of my soul, "I hate you, Harlan Raker."
He just looks down at me for a moment. His gaze dips to the finger still in the center of his chest and then back up at me.
"Good," he finally says.

hear anything resembling teasing coming out of his mouth. I press my lips together, considering. "No," I decide.
"No?" He seems shocked.
"No. You're too much of an asshole for me to feel bad for you." He makes a derisive sound."And you're perfectly pleasant, Aris." There it is. My name again, sounding like an embrace. I ignore the chill working its way down my back.
"Thank you," I say sweetly. "One of us has to be."

"There is no such thing as a starless night, Aris. Silver breaks through darkness. Every single time." In her look is a quiet determination, hard as the strongest metal.
A fierceness that does rival the stars. "If you need help, just reach for it." Her gaze is on my necklace. I don't know what she means ... but she doesn't elaborate. She just steps back into the line. The Eldress gives her a sharp look.

He moves the slightest bit closer, until he's just inches away. So close ... that I can see his jaw. It's a strong one. Then, he dips his head, and I see the shadow of his mouth.
And his mouth—
"Blue," he breathes, like he didn't even mean to. He's looking at my dress. Slowly, his head lifts. I can almost feel his gaze snag onto mine, like a key fitting into a lock. "Just like your ridiculous eyes," he mur-
murs.

. So close ... that I can see his jaw. It's a strong one. Then, he dips his head, and I see the shadow of his mouth.
And his mouth—
"Blue," he breathes, like he didn't even mean to. He's looking at my dress. Slowly, his head lifts. I can almost feel his gaze snag onto mine, like a key fitting into a lock. "Just like your ridiculous eyes," he mur-
murs.

laughs. "Learn this. Some of the most beautiful creatures in this world are the deadliest." I look over at Raker, but he's not looking at the fireflies. He's not looking at the stars.
He's looking at me.
I stare back.
I can't see his eyes, but I feel his notice, piercing me. Our gazes are
like blades between us. Skimming. Dueling.

I must be imagining it, but I swear ... I swear he almost flinches.
Like finally I've nicked him in this ongoing duel of ours. I'm too tired and in too much pain to dig in further. I just step to the side, to keep going.
He steps in front of me again.
His voice isn't soft. I don't know if it's even capable of that. But it's as gentle as I have ever heard it when he says, "I won't hurt you, Aris."

"Why not kill me, then?" I demand.
"I don't need two swords on this journey," he spits, his voice pure fury. "Id rather someone like you has it than someone else."

I should give up. I'm lost, and defenseless, and in a hungry beast-riddled mist. It's useless to fight this hard, with so much stacked against me. And maybe that's what makes me a fool-refusing to stay down, even when the world tries to keep me there. Fighting, even when fighting seems useless.
Always rising, just like Stellan taught me.

“There's a place where creatures can be claimed, like swords."

A will to live strong enough to smother death.
I reach up, palm open, in one last attempt to claim a sword, as silver
fills my vision. It's the last thing I do.
A blade does not fall from the trees. No.
It cuts up through the ground, from the grave below, right into my palm, just in time to block Cadoc's weapon.
And I watch his silver sword shatter into a thousand jagged pieces, in a storm of starlight.

No. I don't want to die. Not yet.
The piece of me that accepted my end now burns to ashes. Fuck that.
Fuck this. I didn't come this far to be stopped by a man who has never wanted for anything, who killed Stellan, who will continue to bring back magic to enrich his greedy house.
From the cinders of that fear and doubt and acceptance, an ember of fight ignites. Not just rage-but resistance.

If any of us is making it back with a full cup of magic, it's Harlan Raker.

I begin to strip off my clothing, until it's a muddied pile on the marble.
A clean, large mirror shows the skin I've hidden for most of my life.
Thin silver rootlike markings spread down my throat, shoulders, arms, chest, and sides.
Silver is a forbidden color for mortals. It's the color of the gods. My markings make me strange. Dangerous.
Sky-touched, according to my parents.

I would do anything for this woman; she was like the other side of my magnet, a force that I couldn't, and didn't, want to be away from ever again.

"But you hate it here," she said. "You'll never be happy here, and then you'll never be happy with me."
I grabbed hold of her hands. "I could be happy with you
anywhere," I whispered
"But the Elysian Fields, your fate," she stammered.
"We decide our own fates, and I'm deciding to stay with you," I said, sparing a glance at the Fate and wrapping my arms around Anna, refusing to let go. I would never let her go again.

"You don't get it," he said between laughs. "Heroism isn't helping someone.
Helping someone is what you do because you're a good person and you want to. Heroics! That's what you do because you want to be liked, you want notoriety and for everyone to think you're the good guy. If you're really the good guy, you don't have to tell people you re the good guy—they already know,"

“You don't understand what you've done to me,"I whispered. "But you will,"