186

186
Riven pov

I’ve lied before - small lies, big lies, the kind that taste like ash and the kind that slide too easily over the tongue, but never like this... Never to him.

Arvin’s asleep, or at least, I think he is. He hasn’t moved in a while, his face is slack, his breath steady, one arm thrown over his chest like he’s guarding something that doesn’t belong to him.

For now, he thinks I’m not this close, that I’ll keep my word and stay as far as possible, maybe follow him or maybe I won’t. He said he’d never forgive me if I followed him so I have to stay in the shadows simply because I can’t seem to stay away anyway.

I look at him and all I see is the boy who shouldn’t have survived the ritual, the boy who is now too quiet and too still to be mistaken for alive. The very boy who asks questions with eyes that used to be soft but now are rimmed with something darker.

That very thing is something I didn’t put there and I don’t like in the slightest.

I crouch near the bag, the one I made sure only I touched, it’s under my coat, hidden where I know no one will look. The message from the spies is still there - folded neatly, creased once down the middle. There’s no name, just a wax seal I know is Lester’s which only proves how close the rebellion truly is.

I read it again, not that I need to, the words are burned into my skull, but I still do.
“Rebellion surrounds the castle, the Council is fractured. Orna has moved, they’ve installed a decoy, the real heir is missing. We need him here, Lester is on the run, rumors say he’s dead or stepped down from the throne for good.”

I fold it slower this time because my hands shake even while I try to stop them from shaking. I slide the letter back into the firelight just enough to watch the edges curl. The seal cracks, the ink bubbles, and then the whole thing crumbles into black dust.

I sit back and breathe. He can’t know, Arvin can’t know any of it, or at least more than he already knows.

If he finds out the magnitude of everything, he won’t just keep running away, he’ll run back into Lester’s arms and think he’s fixing something. Arvin believes that he can be the hero in a story written in someone else’s blood.

I fear he’ll believe there’s still something left to save and I’ll lose him forever.

Later, when the flames are low and the night grows thick, I slip away, mentally tracking Arvin’s future movements so I can follow him again.

Instead of simply hiding in the shadows, I return to the temple. The forest witch is sitting exactly where I expect her to be, cross-legged beside a dying fire, her face hidden under the dark of her hood. I know she’s awake, her eyes never really close.

“I need to talk to you,” I say as I stop near her, but still remain hidden in the shadows in case Marrel is somewhere close by. I don’t trust him anymore, not the way I used to trust him when Arvin insisted we should.

The forest witch doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even try to look at me. “You’ve burned something.”

I let out a bitter chuckle that sounds more like a snort than a laugh. “Of course you know.”

“I know everything that touches him.” She mutters and waves her ugly hand around. Her nails look rotten and for a moment, I wonder if her soul and heart look the same or if she even has those anymore.

I stiffen and look away, unable to hold my gaze on her. “Then you know why I did it.”

She finally looks up as I glance at her, almost like she’s trying to find my eyes in the dark. Her smile is tired, but still there nevertheless. “To protect him, yes, that’s what you’ll say.”

“I didn’t lie.” I snarl at her, my heart racing a little faster as I ball my hands at my sides.

“You destroyed the truth, there’s little difference.” She laughs and the sound that leaves her throat is downright disgusting, worse than nails dragged down a chalkboard.

I shiver and sit down hard on the cold stone. “He left.”

“Yes.” The witch smirks in my direction. Her eyes look distant, as always, those orbs I never find a true courage to truly meet.

My eyes widen a little. “You’re not surprised?”

“Should I be?” She asks, head tilting in my direction. Somehow, she always manages to look wise beyond her years, which probably is hundreds at this point, smug, and absolutely stupid at the same time. This woman, or whatever creature she is, is far too hard to describe and explain. “You are not the first to lie in the name of love and you will not be the last.” She adds and those words hit me right where it hurts the most.

“This wasn’t about love.” I insist, although I know I’m a dirty, filthy liar.

“No?” She chuckles again, looking like she has figured out the very meaning of life at this point, so figuring me out is the easiest thing she has ever done in her life.

“It’s about survival, you think he’d survive walking into that?” I snarl, trying to keep anger out of my voice and failing miserably.  

The forest witch looks past me, her eyes empty. “I think he would survive anything.”

I almost laugh. “You didn’t see him after the ritual.”

“Oh, but I did, I saw more than you did. I always do. And I performed the ritual, remember?”

I lean forward. “Then tell me, am I wrong?” She says nothing and that only angers me. “Tell me,” I demand.

Finally she looks at me and replies. “We all lie, boy. But only the good ones survive it.” I look away, recognizing the words she already told me days ago. “You’ve started something,” she continues. “He feels it - the silence, the space between your words.”

“I’ve kept him alive.” I insist.

“For now.” She whispers.

I grit my teeth. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because you need to know,” she says, voice lower. “Because if he finds out from someone else, it will break him. Not because you lied, but because you didn’t trust him.”

I can’t look at her because I know she’s right and that stings the most. On top of that, I can’t answer simply because there’s nothing more left to say at this point.

The forest witch watches me for a while longer, then turns her gaze back to the fire. Her voice is so soft I almost miss it. “You should go back to him before the lies eat through your ribs.”

When I return to my hiding, Arvin’s awake, his eyes are open, glowing faintly in the dark. He looks so much like himself but at the same time like something inhuman and wrong. It’s hard to explain, but that’s how it is.

I swallow and slide deeper into the shadows, half wishing and half fearing he might figure out that I did, after all, follow after him.