A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,104

him a little for his ignorance.

My hands tremble, and I tangle them in the hem of my cloak. “They sleep,” I answer. “But I couldn’t.”

“I understand,” he says. “I can never sleep after a battle.” He sits back, and if I didn’t know him so well, I would think he was relaxed. “The Scholar boy,” he says. “Did you know him?”

“Not really,” I say. “But no one should die alone.”

“His ghost did not enter the Waiting Place,” Elias says, and I realize that in the time it took me to change and bathe, he’s been to his home and back. “It crossed to the other side. I felt it. Most of them did.”

“The Nightbringer didn’t take them?”

Elias shakes his head. “We killed clean. Quick. He wants suffering.”

I do not know what to say to that, so I lift the bag of mangoes. “I brought you something.”

“You can leave one there.” He unties the neat knots of his bedroll, turning his back on me. “Thank you.”

He still will not look at me, so I shift over to sit next to him. I let the cloak fall from my shoulders and take out a mango.

“Mangoes shouldn’t be eaten alone.” I roll the golden fruit along my thigh, softening it up, the way I used to in the midst of a Serran summer.

The Soul Catcher’s gaze flicks to the movement, and suddenly, I am glad for the way Afya’s shift sits on my skin. Elias follows the path of the mango up and down my bare thigh before looking away.

It is so dismissive that I almost leave. But his hands are clenched into fists, the veins on his arms standing out, and though the sweep of his hair hides his face, his jaw is tight.

A hot thrill of victory shoots through me. I do not know what he’s feeling. Maybe it is anger. But some feeling is better than none at all. I tear off the top of the mango with my teeth, setting it beside me. Then I squeeze it, drawing the sweet pulp out with my lips, letting the juice trail down my wrists, my neck. I imagine him watching me the way I want him to. Him kissing the sweetness from my throat. His arms around me, driving the chill night air away.

“How is it?” he asks, voice pitched low.

“It’s fine,” I say. “But mangoes are not as sweet if you are not sharing them with someone you love.”

Silence, and then the whisper of his body shifting. His fingers are on mine, and my breath catches when I look up at him. Somewhere deep within those gray eyes, I see the Elias I knew. I feel the heat of the man who has blazed with life from the first moment I met him.

I let him take my hands, every inch of me tingling as he licks the juice from my wrists. He runs a finger up my neck and puts it in his mouth. Then he puts the mango to his lips and closes his eyes. His long lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, and he makes a small moan of satisfaction at the taste of the fruit. At the sound, my desire spikes. Every part of me aches toward him.

“Laia.” He reaches out, his hand closing on my waist. My breath grows shallow. The tent is warm suddenly, and a flush rises in my cheeks as he moves closer. His gaze is on my lips, his own just a hairsbreadth away.

Kiss me, I want to tell him. Touch me. Rip this stupid shift off.

He lifts the mango. “And now,” he whispers, “is it sweeter?”

His finger brushes my lips, and I rake my teeth across it ever so briefly. He jerks and pulls away, and I wonder if his heart stutters like mine does.

“Not as sweet as it could be.” I make him meet my eyes. For a moment, it is Elias I see. My Elias, just like in Aish.

Then he’s gone, windwalking from the tent so fast that I startle and drop the mango. It thuds to the earth, ruined now, its sweetness curdled by dust.

XL: The Soul Catcher

For ten days, we attack the Commandant’s army in small, surgical strikes. As Keris tightens her defenses, our attacks grow more complex—and take a higher toll. In the fourth raid, we lose five fighters.

When we return to the camp that night, the Tribespeople are silent. Most do not meet my eyes. My instinct is to sit with them. Mourn with them.