Page 53 of The Midnight Arrow

“Tell me the truth now.”

His sharp jaw tightened. There was a scar just underneath his chin, a scar that hadn’t been there before, one he’d hidden with this glamour. I remembered what Veras had told me, that Severs had been living among us for a lot longer than anyone realized…and perhaps this was how.

Because no one would look at Lorik in his true form andnotknow there was something otherworldly about him.

He was Allavari and he was Kylorr…but he was much, much more. His bloodline must’ve run back generations.

“Marion,” he said quietly.

“The truth. Or I walk back into my cottage and we will never speak again. Whatever oath you took be damned—I deserve to know the truth, Lorik.”

I wondered what his punishment would be. I wondered what the magic would take of him. I understood blood oaths. I’d taken one myself. If I didn’t help someone when I knew they were in need…I would feel their pain acutely.

Maybe that was part of why I’d hidden myself away in the Black Veil. Because it was easier to ignore others’ suffering. Because it was no great risk to me. I hated the cowardly part of myself. But Lorik had been the last person I’d helped…and look where that had gotten me.

With the oath in mind, I didn’t expect the truth from him. Not truly.

And so I began to turn away. It would feel like an unfinished chapter in my life, but I would accept that to spare my heart. I’d always told myself to never fall in love. Love only brought pain. Suffering. In Aysia’s case, death.

Fool,I thought, fighting back tears, feeling that empty loneliness creeping back inside me as I remembered how content I’d felt lying next to Lorik in my small bed. Of hearing his breathing and feeling his heart against my back. Of memorizing the veins in his wings and the way his eyes gleamed when he was looking at me.

They were things I didn’t need to remember because it would make the loss of him hurt all the more.

“I’m a Sever, Marion.”

I froze, not looking at him but not quite leaving either.

“Though we call ourselves Kelvarians, not Severs. That’s an old word, a distasteful one to us.”

The rain began to pick up, icy pinpricks on my flesh, sliding down my cheeks like tears.

“I was born in the Below. It is my home. It is where I live. It is what I know,” Lorik went on. His voice almost took on a trancelike property, and I found myself looking over my shoulder at him, studying the conflict over his changed features. “I am the Below King’s Hunter. A high position in his court, and I do whatever he tasks me with, for the safety and security of our home. My father was the Hunter before me, his father beforehim. It was my purpose after my brother died. That is what I am.”

I turned to face him but didn’t take a step forward to close some of the gap between us.

“For such a high-ranking position in his court, why bother coming to the Above world at all?”

Lorik exhaled sharply. “Shades come from our world. They are a product of us, of a darker time and history in the Below. It didn’t seem right to let them run freely in your world, when we knew their potential and their crimes.”

“Then why come to the villages?” I asked. “Shades stay in the Black Veil, don’t they?”

“For the most part, yes,” Lorik replied, studying me carefully. “I wanted to know the villages better. I’d heard stories of the Above for most of my life—tales from my mother. I was curious. And I found they weren’t as terrible as they’d always been described to us.”

I released a shaky breath.

“And then…I saw a human woman at a market day in Rolara,” he continued, his voice softening. “With beautiful hair, the color of which I’d never seen before, and soft, almost sad eyes…and I wanted to know more about her.”

“Don’t,” I whispered, shaking my head.

“That’s why I came to Rolara, Marion,” he said…but I didn’t know if I could believe him. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“And the arrow?” I asked, hardening my voice. “The poisoned arrow?”

His features shuttered, a brief flash of shame appearing until he smoothed it from his expression with furrowed brow, lines appearing between them.

“I need something from you,” he told me quietly.

“What?” I asked, surprised. Then I laughed. “What could you possibly…”