Chapter 27: Jealousy

I met Karlos’s gaze as we stood in the shadow of the ancient treeline, far enough from the fortress that the obsidian spires of Fortundra were nothing but jagged teeth against the moon. He offered me a warm, familiar smile, but his eyes were sharp, scanning my face for any sign of the girl he had lost to the silk and stone of the castle. I saw Bran resting on his right shoulder, the raven looking regal and tired, his black feathers ruffling in the mountain breeze.

For the first time since that gut-wrenching goodbye to Zion, I felt a wave of genuine relief wash over me. Seeing Bran and Karlos together made me feel safe in a way that was both odd and intensely familiar. I had missed them—missed the honesty of our shared history and the lack of pretense in our conversations. But a knot tightened in my stomach when I thought of our last encounter. I wondered what Karlos would say after that heavy silence in the woods. I wanted him to be happy; he wasn't just a scout who helped me survive the border; he was my best friend, the only person who knew the version of me that wasn't a lie.

"I have everything I need," I said, my voice sounding hollow as I walked toward them, the weight of the stolen blueprints in my satchel feeling like lead.

"I'm going back to Silvermere with you," he said quickly, his smile widening, though it didn't quite reach the corners of his eyes.

I gasped softly in shock, my eyes going wide. I hadn't expected him to make the choice so soon, or so decisively. "You’re what? Karlos, are you sure? I thought about what you said, and I don't want to cause you to give up your dreams just because—"

"This is my choice, Diana," he interrupted, his tone firm. "I want this. I want to be where you are."

I looked at him, searching for any sign of doubt. "Did you have to sneak out of the camp? Did you have to hide so the guards wouldn't see you or stop you?"

Karlos snorted and grinned, a bit of his old cocky self resurfacing. "No, I didn't. I’m a ghost in those woods, remember?" His eyes then moved to me, scanning my traveling leathers. "And you? Did you have to climb out a window to get away from the 'Prince of Shadows'?"

"No," I whispered. "I didn't."

His eyes widened, and I wasn't sure if it was in horror, surprise, or a bitter mixture of both. "What's with that face?" I asked, feeling a flush creep up my neck.

"You mean he knows you're leaving?" Karlos asked, his voice dropping an octave.

I nodded my head slowly, the memory of the kiss and the heavy goodbye pressing down on me. "Zion knows. He... he respected my decision to leave."

Karlos furrowed his eyebrows together, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that he fundamentally disliked. "So, he knows you're from Silvermere? He knows you're a spy for Ultarion?"

"Not that part," I sighed, moving my gaze to Bran and reaching out to rub the top of the raven’s head. Bran leaned into my touch, letting out a soft, sympathetic croak. "He doesn't know the truth."

"Where does he think you're going, then?"

"On another adventure," I answered, letting out a jagged laugh and rolling my eyes at the absurdity of it. "Which isn't a total lie. Returning to Silvermere to face the King is certainly an adventure."

"But won't he find out?" Karlos pressed, stepping closer, his presence suddenly looming. "Once he realizes his blueprints are gone and his 'guest' has vanished into the borderlands?"

"Yes, but by then he won't be able to find me," I answered, meeting Karlos’s worried, mounting gaze.

He frowned, his jaw setting in a way that signaled his growing agitation. "How can you be so sure? He’s a King with powers we don't fully understand, Diana. He could hunt you to the ends of the earth."

"I live in a cave, Karlos. He won't think to look in the mud and the dark for the girl he dressed in silk."

His eyes suddenly narrowed, dropping from my face to my chest. I felt the air leave the clearing as he noticed the pendant hanging there—the iridescent moonstone pulsing with that strange, inner light. I instinctively reached up, my fingers curling around the cool jewel, rubbing it softly as I looked down at the ground.

"Cute," Karlos said, his voice dripping with a sarcasm so sharp it could have drawn blood. "Where'd you get it? Find it on the road?"

"Zion gave it to me," I whispered softly, dropping my hand to my side, though the weight of the silver chain felt like a brand.

"Why?" His voice was sharp, a whip-crack in the quiet woods. "Why would he give you that?"

"I'm not sure," I lied, the guilt making my stomach churn. "He said it was his mother's. That it was a charm of protection for those in grave danger."

Karlos snorted and rolled his eyes, a harsh, jealous laugh escaping him. "His mother’s? Diana, that’s not just a gift. That’s a claim."

"I wanted to no!" I insisted, my voice rising in defense.

He scoffed at that, his arms crossing over his chest as he paced a small circle around me. "And yet, here it is. Hanging around your neck."

"I wanted to let him keep it! I wanted him to give it to someone he actually loves, someone who belongs in his world," I argued, feeling a hot tear of frustration prick my eye. I felt so incredibly guilty—guilty for taking it, guilty for the kiss, and guilty for the way Karlos was looking at me right now.

"Wait, you kissed him?"

"It was a goodbye kiss."

Karlos stopped dead in his tracks and placed his hands on his hips, his face contorted with a jealousy he wasn't even trying to hide anymore. "Are you in love with him?"

"What? No!" I gawked, rolling my eyes. "How can you even ask that?"

"Then why did you take some old heirloom of his? Why keep a piece of the man who represents everything we’re fighting against?"

"Because I—he—I wanted to say no, but I didn't know what to say," I answered, sighing in total defeat. "He said he couldn't be there to guard my back, so the stone would have to do it for him. It was a kindness, Karlos. A misplaced, tragic kindness."

"Have you ever wondered if he loves you?" Karlos stepped into my personal space, his hazel eyes burning.

"He doesn't. He can't," I snapped. "He barely knows me. He knows a ghost named Diana who likes roses and mystery. He doesn't know the girl who steals secrets in the dark."

"Well, guys don't give away their mother's jewelry, things that are supposed to save lives," Karlos began, pointing a finger at the glowing pendant, "unless they’re in love. He didn't give you a trinket. He gave you a piece of his soul."

"Karlos, please. He was just my mission, I promise," I said quickly, my voice pleading. "The pendant is just... it's just a weight I have to carry until this is over."

But as I looked at Karlos’s pained, jealous face, and then down at the shimmering moonstone, I knew we were both lying. The pendant wasn't just a weight—it was a tether. And no matter how far I ran toward Silvermere, I could still feel the pull of the man who had let me walk away.