Chapter Eighteen

As she and Alethia emerged from one of the palace's small side exits, Tanitha looked over the city and its gentle flicker of lights. The torches of the agora where the main ceremonies of the Awakening would occur were little more than smoldering embers at this distance, the magelights blazing within nearby buildings cutting through with a much sharper, cleaner light.

Keeping stride with Alethia, Tanitha began to descend the stairs that led down to one of the palace's many gardens. About halfway down, though, a strange sensation washed over her, and she straightened, looking back out over the city. It was like… a pull, somehow the reverse of how she felt when pushing her will onto creatures around her. A gentle tug at her spirit.

Her immediate instinct was to somehow retract into herself, to shield herself from it, but… it didn't feel dangerous, or hostile. It was a familiar feeling, one that spoke of unexpected compassion, of walking in the safety of a moonlit garden while storms raged beyond its walls. Of gentle caresses under the cover of darkness. Of the simple joy of holding, and of being held.

Darius . Her breath caught as she suddenly understood. The soul-binding. It was a permanent link between them, a twining of their spirits. After the soul-binding had occurred, she'd been too shocked, too panicked, to pay any mind to such a subtle sensation. And then Darius had been imprisoned, surrounded by meters of earth and basalt that dampened elemental magic. But now… They'd released him.

The realization brought tears to her eyes. They'd released him, yes, but it wasn't permanent. He'd soon be sent back to the deep darkness of his cell, likely before the sun had even risen. She bowed her head, trying to keep her composure. She knew what it was to be kept in darkness, to be trapped away from all she loved. But when she had been in that situation, she had at least had the assurance that a powerful demon was standing between her and the loss of everything. Darius… Darius only had her. He only had the assurance of a human girl's reckless determination to succeed.

"You can sense him, can't you?"

Tanitha startled, turning quickly to look at Alethia. The demon had paused her descent down the marble stairs and was watching Tanitha intently.

"I wondered if you'd be able to," Alethia said. "It's a long range, and you only have half of a proper soul-bond with him. But I can't say that I'm altogether surprised."

Tanitha looked at her warily, not sure what might comprise a safe answer to this.

"I thought you said we had to move quickly," she said as she began walking once more, though she knew it was a weak deflection.

"We do," Alethia said, moving forward as well, her pace brisk. "Nonetheless, I do find myself curious." She tilted her head. "He lied to you," she said. "He left you. Why would you care to risk yourself to be with him?"

Tanitha looked away. Darius had done all of that, but on the balance, she felt his mistakes had been no worse than her own. And all of it melted away when she thought of the time she'd spent with him, of his kindness, of the somehow both fierce and gentle passion of his touch.

"If you don't already understand my feelings for him," Tanitha said, her voice low, "then I doubt there is anything I could say to explain it to you, Lady Alethia."

"As a matter of fact, I do understand the feelings in question," Alethia said coolly as they passed together beneath a vine-bedecked arch. "They are quite obvious, and they make you predictable. Predictable and vulnerable to manipulation." She cast Tanitha a sideways look. "If you must be so driven by ill-advised emotions, you should at least make them less obvious to those around you."

Tanitha kept her gaze away from Alethia, watching instead the flickering lights of the distant Sanctuary as they walked. There didn't seem to be very much point in mentioning that there would be no need to protect herself from manipulation if she were not surrounded by people— Alethia herself most of all— who were determined to toy with her.

"I'll take that under advisement, then," she said quietly, not realizing until after she said it that she had exactly echoed Alethia's own words from their last conversation.

Alethia gave a quiet chuckle, and to Tanitha's surprise, the sound almost had an air of approval. Bizarrely frustrated by this, Tanitha finally turned to face her.

"May I ask you something?" she asked abruptly. "The day you came to the Hold. You said you meant to bring me here to break the binding so that Darius could go free." Alethia inclined her head, waiting, though they were still walking. "Was there ever any chance of that?" Tanitha asked. "Is it even possible?"

"Is that something you would want?" Alethia asked, raising an eyebrow as they passed a stand of elaborately shaped bushes. "To be cut off from him and go your own way?"

Tanitha restrained a scoff. As if Naratha would ever let her go her own way. A woman who knew about demonkind's greatest weakness? No, there was no chance of that. But she didn't answer, merely waited.

Alethia looked to one side in apparent consideration. "When two demons are soul-bound," she said, "it is possible to extricate them from the binding. It's a deeply painful process, separating the core of two beings that have grown and twined around each other. It can shatter people. Not dissimilar from what you experienced from sending your soul too far afield in your Trial, I suppose."

Tanitha flinched. That was why, then. Why no one had attempted it in her case. Naratha wouldn't risk her heir going through something like that.

"In your case," Alethia added, "I'm not certain exactly what would happen, and I suspect that Naratha isn't any more confident. But it would likely be excruciating for Darius."

"You were never ordered to bring me here at all, then," Tanitha said quietly. Alethia didn't answer, but there was a faint shift in her expression, a hardness that Tanitha remembered from the day she'd just asked about. She looked away to focus on the flagstone path they were walking, suddenly feeling weary. "That day, at the Hold. You weren't going to bring me here. You just meant to kill me."

"Of course I did," Alethia said, no trace of apology or guilt in her voice. She tilted her head as if in consideration. "I wouldn't have taken any pleasure in it," she said, more to herself than to Tanitha. "But I had just been told that my future king was in danger. I knew what my duty was."

Tanitha looked at her, hurting. She knew Alethia was her enemy, and that she could afford limited sympathy for a woman who meant only pain for her. But nonetheless… Alethia had been treated unjustly. And though she didn't want to express compassion for someone who clearly wanted her dead, perhaps it was a matter of good strategy to let Alethia know that Tanitha could see it.

"But that's not all he was to you in that moment," Tanitha said, feeling tentative. "He was more than just your future king."

Alethia sent her a contemptuous look. "Spare me your pity, human. I'm not the one taking a desperate gamble for my own life on the off chance the queen of demons decides to spare it."

That was certainly true, Tanitha thought. Still… "It's not pity," Tanitha said quietly. Alethia raised an eyebrow. "It's not pity to see that someone has been treated unfairly and wish it could be different." She glanced at the ground. "And maybe it could have been different for you," she said. "If not for…"

"If not for you ," Alethia finished for her. Tanitha gave a small nod. Alethia was quiet for a moment. Tanitha, not looking at her, could nonetheless feel the weight of her gaze.

"Perhaps it could have been different, yes," Alethia said at last. "He's a good man. Or at least, I thought he was before he decided to use me as an unwitting cover to his other interest," she added pointedly.

Tanitha hesitated, then decided to push forward. "He told me about you once," she said carefully. "It was before I knew who he was, so I didn't understand the full situation at the time. But he told me that you were direct, honest with him in a way he'd rarely encountered. That it was difficult to find that among people of high status, and that he appreciated that trait in you." Alethia's expression was carefully neutral, and Tanitha continued, "I suppose what I mean to say is that I don't believe that someone who values that trait in others would be careless of it in himself. I don't believe it was ever his intention to use or manipulate you." She made a helpless gesture. "None of this happened how any of us meant it to," she said.

Alethia gave a quiet scoff. "One thing I think you have yet to learn," she said, "is how excruciatingly little intentions matter in the most important things of this world. What does it matter what a leader's intentions are, when the effect of their actions is death or pain to their subjects, to the people who had no say in shaping the forces that dictate their lives?" She folded her arms. "I do not excuse those in power who wield it carelessly. I cannot afford to. We cannot afford to."

"And how do you feel about those in power who deliberately inflict pain?" Tanitha challenged, folding her arms.

Alethia's gaze was steady, and completely devoid of anything resembling guilt or shame. "Everyone inflicts pain," she said. "At least those of us who are deliberate about it can ensure that the effect and the intention match."

The semi-private plaza that Kai led Darius to was abuzz with activity when they arrived. An ebony palanquin swathed with red silk and carriers standing at the ready waited while servants adjusted the plush cushions within. Darius' gaze immediately caught on a young woman who was being similarly fussed over by handmaidens. She was clothed in a flowing scarlet kaftan embroidered with gold in a flamelike motif, and her light hair was done up in a simple but elegant style, strands of agate beads woven through it.

Lithra. Darius had to work hard to keep his expression neutral as he looked at her. Bad enough that Tanitha was being dragged through nine kinds of hell on his behalf; he didn't know how she could ever forgive him now that her sister had been pulled into this mess.

It didn't matter, he reminded himself shortly. All it meant was that he'd have to see to Lithra's safety as well when he made his move, and that was easy enough. This would all be over in a matter of hours.

As he and Kai entered the courtyard, silence swept over it, not so much as a stray whisper escaping as the guards and servants saw them and dropped into deep bows. Darius kept his posture straight and firm, ignoring the myriad tiny stolen glances toward him. He stepped forward, Kai at his side. He knew there was likely no shortage of rumors about his absence from the public eye after his fight with Naratha; half of her motivation in allowing him to leave his cell tonight was probably to quash them. Well, he'd play along for now.

Lithra dropped into a very precise bow, the motion practiced but still not entirely natural, as he approached. A faint tremble darted over her shoulders, and he quickly extended a hand. He expected some trepidation when she took it, and indeed there was a hint of that.

What he did not expect was for her to fully glare at him when she was again standing upright.

Darius, taken aback, didn't speak, but Kai cleared his throat, and Lithra promptly neutralized her expression.

"Greetings, Your Highness," she said, her voice clear and her accent a passable imitation of the one most favored by noblewomen. "It's an honor to accompany you tonight."

Darius had his doubts about that. "The honor is mine," he said, his own tone a bit stilted.

"Very convincing, both of you," Kai muttered, barely audible. Darius just refrained from sending him a glare; what did it matter if people here didn't believe that the woman at his side was Tanitha? It would surprise no one to learn that they'd used a stand-in for a public appearance, if only for safety's sake.

Nonetheless, he made sure that his motions were less stiff as he gave Lithra a half-bow himself, then helped her to alight in the palanquin.

The second the crimson curtains of the palanquin were drawn shut around them, he turned to her urgently. "Is Tanitha all right?" he asked her, voice low. "Is she safe?"

She gave a short nod, not looking at him, which offered only very limited reassurance. He paused, not entirely sure what to make of her manner toward him. He'd have expected at least a passable showing of respect from someone of her station, but then, it was perhaps not surprising that such considerations had long since fallen by the wayside for her.

"And you?" he prompted her. "Are you being treated well?"

Another nod, though her gaze was still set forward. She didn't glance his way, even when the palanquin lurched as the servants outside lifted it and began to move forward. He pursed his lips.

"You can speak, you know," he said.

Despite the swaying motion of the palanquin, there was a hardening to the set of her shoulders. "With respect, Your Highness," she said quietly, "I think that I shouldn't."

Something in her tone clarified her feelings far more than any lengthy explanation ever could have. He assumed the anger was at least mainly on Tanitha's behalf, but was it out of her own view of the situation, or because of something Tanitha had said? No; he was confident on Tanitha's feelings toward him, even if he thought them kinder than he deserved. Whatever the source of Lithra's anger, it was her anger.

"I know none of this is fair," he said, voice low and even. "And I'm sorry. I plan to do what I can to make it right."

She pursed her lips, still not looking at him. Several seconds passed. Then, abruptly, she said, "What happens to women like Tanitha?"

His brow furrowed. He wasn't sure what response he'd expected, but it wasn't that. "Pardon?"

"I've helped treat women who were in her situation," Lithra said, her voice taut. "Women who were with a demon, carrying a demon's child. They weren't with a prince, though," she said, casting him a sideways look. She folded her arms around herself, her knuckles white with the tightness of her grip. "You said I could speak, so I'm speaking," she finished. "Those women vanished. I want to know what happened to them."

Sudden clarity struck him. He'd known that Lithra's decision to push Tanitha on the matter of his true form was rooted in fear for her sister's physical safety, but he hadn't really understood why she'd been so certain there was danger. Considering the matter from the angle of someone who had just glimpsed the edges of a policy founded on secrecy… perhaps it wasn't so strange that she had advised her sister to do anything but tell Darius that she was pregnant.

"They aren't harmed, if that's what you're thinking," he said at last. She still wasn't looking at him. He wasn't certain if her reticence was a matter of anger, or of fear. He made a conscious effort to keep his tone level, near emotionless. "Demons aren't any better than humans about treating people well when they see them as different from themselves. And there aren't enough of us that we can afford to be dismissive of half-breeds, especially when there's often no appreciable difference between them and demons with less diluted heritage. The children are taken and raised as foundlings in demon households. The women are compensated and sworn to silence."

"They lose their children and can never even speak of their grief?" Lithra shook her head. "That… that isn't right. It isn't fair."

He didn't answer. It was, in fact, something he'd been considering of late. Such cases were rare in Karazhen— he only knew of about five such that had occurred over the span of his own life— but nonetheless, he was angry at himself for not having considered the matter before this point. He knew there was no real reason he should have, as infrequently as it occurred, but he prided himself on being aware of the needs of his people. And Lithra was right; it wasn't fair.

"Do you plan to change it?" Lithra asked abruptly.

Darius' only plan at that point was to break loose at a critical moment, get Tanitha free, and flee. As such, the question caught him flat-footed. He started to speak, then stopped, not sure what he could say.

Lithra made a noise suspiciously like a scoff and turned slightly away.

"Right now, I'm more focused on keeping both her and you safe," he said, keeping his voice low. Her posture, if possible, hardened even further. "What?" he asked. She didn't answer. "We're both prisoners right now, you know," he said, annoyed. "You might as well tell me what you're thinking."

She let out a hard exhalation. "I don't believe our situations are exactly equivalent, Your Highness."

"I think they are," he said. "I'm here because I didn't adequately safeguard her. And you're here because you gave her some incredibly dangerous advice."

She whirled to face him, apparently finally baited beyond her determination to minimize her interactions with him.

"You are here because you were careless," she said, her voice low and furious. "Because you, despite being a prince, proved yourself just as heedless of her safety as every other man that was with every poor woman that ever came to me for help. I am here because I tried to protect her from the consequences of your carelessness. We do not share equal levels of blame for this."

He eyed her. There was a hard fierceness to her gaze that one wouldn't expect from a foundling girl staring into the eyes of a demon prince, but oddly, he found that he appreciated her anger. Despite how clearly it was directed at him, there was some assurance to be had in the fact that at least there was one other person who truly was as interested in Tanitha's safety as he was.

"What would you have done?" Lithra asked abruptly. At the flicker of confusion that passed over his face, she clarified, "If Tanitha had never come to me. If I hadn't told her to… if she had believed it was safe to tell you she was with child. A demon prince, a betrothed demon prince, who'd just been told that he'd soon have an illegitimate child with a human woman… What would you have done?"

He started to answer, but Lithra wasn't done. Apparently once she'd begun speaking, she was finding it difficult to stop.

"The problem," she said, "is that I can't think of an answer you could give that would satisfy me. She said you were always kind to her, so I'll dismiss thoughts that you might have killed her or even just forced her to end the pregnancy." Darius tried not to look affronted that either of those had even occurred to her, though he was unsure of his success. Lithra continued, "But even casting those possibilities aside, you still would have hurt her."

"I would not have hurt her," he said angrily.

"You would have," she said. "You were careless, and it led to a situation where you would have had no choice but to hurt her! What could you have done? Kept her secret and secluded, unable to make any kind of life for herself? Or would you have done something drastic, fleeing Karazhen with her and forcing her to give up everything she'd ever known? And whatever you decided, would she ever have had any choice in the matter?" She took a short, ragged breath. "You know, I think that's what makes me angriest about all this," she said finally. "That she never had a choice. That you took her away from her home, from me. And she didn't have a choice about any of it."

Darius looked at her incredulously. "I saved her life by doing that."

"You spared her life," Lithra shot back. "You didn't save her, you just spared her life when it never should have been in danger in the first place." She gave a short, angry shake of the head. "You spared her life but then gave her no ability to choose what she might do with it."

Darius folded his arms. "You're wrong," he said. She made no response, just watched him with anger still smoldering in her eyes. "She would have had a choice. It's true that I hadn't yet offered her one, but that was because I hadn't been able to establish yet what our choices were. " He let out a sharp exhalation. "I can't say that I blame you for being determined to see the worst in me," he said. "I likely would take a similar position if our roles were reversed. And in truth, I'm glad she has you for that reason. But she would have had a choice. I would never have been able to bear seeing her unhappy."

Lithra was quiet, and for a moment he thought that she wouldn't answer. But then she asked, "Does Tanitha know that?" He frowned at her, and she said, "Does Tanitha know that you meant to offer her a choice in which path her life might have taken?"

He started to answer, then paused, uncertain. He'd had little choice but to be vague with Tanitha, very selective in what information he gave her. Gods. Whatever he might have said to Lithra in his own defense, there were parts of what he'd done that he would never forgive himself for.

"The reason I ask," Lithra said quietly, "Is that she seems very concerned that you might take her choices from her again."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"She is afraid," Lithra said. "Not about what Lady Alethia or the queen might do. She's afraid of what you might do. She's afraid that you might force her to run. That she might lose everything once more, that she might have to run and keep running. That she might never be able to choose her own fate."

Uneasily, he thought back to what Kai had said earlier about how Tanitha wouldn't thank him for doing exactly what he planned to do.

"She told you this?" he asked.

Lithra nodded. "She wants us to trust her," she said. "And… it's hard. If it were just my own feelings, I think… I think I'd be begging you to do exactly what they're trying to stop you from doing tonight. I'd be begging you to get her to safety, whatever else happened. But … but if you did that, you'd both be hunted. And however that ended, even in the best possible circumstances, even if the gods had mercy on you both… even then, the cost would be too high. She wants to live on her own terms," she said. "It's not a gift I can give her. But maybe you can."

Darius looked away, momentarily torn. He knew he'd taken many choices away from Tanitha, restricting her choices by restricting her knowledge. He'd had reasons, yes— reasons that ranged from the gods to the fates to the queen of the Shadowborn City— but they all seemed so meaningless now. They had since the moment he'd left Tanitha's side that fateful night.

And yet, he had to do it once more. To do otherwise was to stand aside while she tried to atone for mistakes for which she never should have shouldered the blame.

He set his jaw. Tanitha might have been willing to blame herself for what she'd done, but that didn't mean he had to let her. And he certainly wasn't going to let her die for it.

Whatever Lithra said, he was going to put an end to this tonight.

Torius and Hathia were waiting for them outside of the stables when Tanitha and Alethia arrived.

"Alethia," said Torius, moving forward. "Are you all right? We just got word. Has Zharen…?"

"Zharen has long had contingency plans in place for this," Alethia said firmly, though Tanitha caught a faint flicker of uncharacteristic anxiety in her expression. "And a small enough population that those plans can be put into place without gaps."

Hathia still looked concerned. "And the roads? Queen Naratha has already decreed a temporary halt of passage on our side, but…"

"Locked down with demonic patrols from Iathen to Zharen," Alethia said, still with that front of firm unconcern.

Torius let out a quiet exhalation. "And do we have any answers yet?" he asked. "About how this happened? Where did it come from? I've never heard of a flare that spread this rapidly."

Alethia's face was grim. "It seems the town's priests succumbed first. We suspect the rose water used in the ceremonies. Iathen doesn't manufacture it locally. It seems someone was able to place agents among their suppliers."

"The rose water ?" Torius let out a quiet oath. "Bastards."

"Agreed," Alethia said grimly. A hard knot of dread was forming in the pit of Tanitha's stomach. Alethia continued, "I'll be seeing to them personally, once today's matter is addressed, and once we've confirmed the identity of the culprit."

"And her?" asked Hathia in an undertone, with the slightest nod to Tanitha. "Is this something she's capable of addressing?" She turned to Tanitha directly. "I mean no disrespect— your soul-speaking was truly impressive— but it's all we've seen so far."

"Queen Naratha has decided it is an appropriate matter for a Trial," Alethia cut in smoothly, before Tanitha could respond. "If Tanitha cannot address it, I imagine containing the matter will be quite manageable between the three of us."

Hathia and Torius glanced at each other, then back to Alethia.

"We'll fly ahead and ensure the patrols have word to let her pass unhindered," Torius said, with a nod to Tanitha.

Alethia gave a nod of acknowledgement, and with that, Hathia and Torius abruptly vanished. It was too dark to fully identify their small winged forms as they flew to the north-west.

"Your horse," Alethia said, and Tanitha glanced behind her to see the stable keeper emerging. Alethia thanked him as she took the grey horse's reins, and he left a few seconds later, presumably to return to whatever observances of the Awakening he could keep while on duty with the horses.

"Here," Alethia said, reaching out to hand Tanitha the reins.

"What is happening?" Tanitha demanded, making no move to take them. "You said that the roads have been restricted? And…" She trailed off. Some of what Hathia and Torius had said had given some hints of what might be to come, but she was refusing to draw conclusions until she'd been told more. There was no need for her to try to fight through the worming sensation of fear before then, nor to let her mind take the paths it seemed determined to leap down.

"You'll see soon enough," Alethia said. "Follow the main road out of the city gates, and then take the coastal side where it splits. You are going to Iathen. It's a small town, little more than a village, really, but it's strategically placed to be an important stop for overland traders." As she spoke, the horse flicked its ears, angling its head to look at her before lowering it to lip at some dried weeds at the side of the path in investigation. "I don't intend to walk the entire way to Iathen, but I will remain nearby," Alethia continued. "It's in your best interest to arrive quickly as well. Your task is time sensitive."

"And what is my task, precisely?" Tanitha asked, keeping her voice level.

Alethia gave her a grim look. The fact that she didn't seem inclined to make light of whatever it was even for the sake of baiting Tanitha did not, in Tanitha's opinion, bode well.

"I will explain on your arrival," she said. With that, she vanished. Tanitha jumped slightly as a blue damselfly zipped away from her.

Tanitha turned to the horse. It had apparently been trained in close proximity to demons, since it had taken the abrupt form change with all the equanimity of a cow watching a tangle of dried weeds blow past in the wind. Tanitha, for her part, was feeling considerably less calm.

It took her two attempts to get into the saddle, which was annoying, as she wanted to look more competent than she felt, but at least the horse was bearing it patiently. Uncertainly, she nudged its sides with her heels, and it started forward at a placid pace. Even that motion made her grip the saddle in sudden apprehension, and she forced herself to breathe. She loosened her tight hold on the reins slightly. The horse slowed to a stop, investigating another patch of weeds.

Tanitha nudged its sides again, which it ignored. Tanitha pursed her lips, her earlier relief that Alethia didn't appear to have procured a spirited mount evaporating; a placid, apathetic beast might actually be worse. With one hand gripping the saddle's edge, she took a deep breath, then touched the horse's mind with a gentle suggestion to walk. A few moments later, when she was confident that she could keep her balance with the swaying motion, she directed it to trot.

The horse took off at a brisk pace, and Tanitha kept her gentle pressure on its mind despite wanting nothing more than to call it to a halt and dismount, trusting to her own two feet instead. Gradually, though, her discomfort faded, and some of the tension left her body, allowing her to change her posture to better mimic what she'd seen from more experienced riders. She checked her senses for the presence of demons. Alethia was somewhere overhead, as she'd said, but other than that, she was alone. The city was strangely still, the streets eerily empty; the night of the Awakening was a time of solemn introspection and purification up until the dawn, when raucous celebrations would break loose. For now, though, all was still.

The city gates were already closed for the night when she approached, but Alethia must have delivered word that she was to be allowed to pass, because as soon as she came into view, the gates began to slowly draw open. She left the city, keeping the horse at an even trot, and though she knew there were few enough people to see her, she kept her posture straight and firm, determined that she'd betray no hint of anxiety or fear.

The road arced away from the city and its surrounding lands, taking her near to the shore. The ocean's hiss seemed abnormally loud in the silence of the night. At one point, the road narrowed to the width of a single cart, running alongside a cliff overlooking the ocean. Tanitha's throat felt close as she remembered Alethia's casual statement about Tanitha's clear lack of ability with water. Eventually the road turned away from the sea, though, taking her further inland, and Tanitha was able to relax, if only slightly. Whatever this was, she didn't imagine for one second that Alethia intended to show any mercy or compassion.

She glanced back toward the palace, its white shine visible even from this distance. Though Alethia's words about speed being on her side were ringing in her ears, she nonetheless pulled on the horse's reins, halting it halfway through a turn back toward Karazhen.

Even at this distance, she could still sense Darius, and the moment she let herself focus on that, tears came to her eyes. She blinked them back hurriedly, though she doubted Alethia was near enough to see, and even if she could, it would hardly afford her any new information. It wasn't as if she didn't already know how much the separation from Darius was hurting Tanitha. She and Naratha both knew perfectly well what Tanitha was willing to do to be with him.

Nonetheless, it wasn't as if she wanted to go through another Trial if there was any other possible option.

For a moment, she remained there, gazing back toward the city, feeling torn. Alethia wasn't nearby; she was clearly relying on Tanitha's own stubborn determination. But Tanitha didn't feel determined. She felt lost and alone and frightened.

Gods, she wanted to be at his side.

She could run from this Trial, she thought. She could return to the city. She could ride into the Sanctuary itself. And if Alethia tried to stop her before she reached Darius, before they could flee together… well, perhaps they would all find out if Tanitha could overpower the will of demons other than Darius.

And then her mind returned to her first Trial, to the destruction that had been wrought when two demons fought. How much worse would it be this time, if Tanitha were there? What kind of destruction would occur? How many innocent people, gathered together for the Awakening, would die for simply being in the path of demonic wrath?

Besides, if she did that, if she and Darius fled… she'd be taking everything from him. And she had already cost him far too much.

Though her heart was still aching, she knew there was only one thing she could do. She turned her horse back to the path and nudged it forward once more.