We pass the last trees of the forest, out to the sloping valley leading to the mountains. I stop short. The sun is uncovered, shining in full force. My hands dart up to my face to shield my pathetically vulnerable eyes. Even putting up my hood will not be enough. It's much worse than ever before, all because I decided to watch the sun rise.

“We should wait,” Syndel says. “Clouds could come at any moment.”

I shake my head. “I'll be fine.” Even as I say the words I know they're not true. In an hour's time, perhaps less, I won't be able to see anything. And the damage could be permanent.

“Stubborn,” Syndel murmurs. “If you think I'm going to watch you go blind, you're a dolt.”

In spite of myself, I chuckle. “What else do you suggest?”

She turns away for a moment, tapping her chin. I can almost hear her weighing our options. She doesn't seem to like any of them. When she finally faces me again, her expression is resolved and somewhat apologetic.

“You're going to ride Hetty,” she begins, “and you'll be blindfolded.”

At first, I want to laugh, but as the words sink in I see their merit. She is, after all, just trying to help. I nod. “Agreed.”

She seems surprised by her easy victory. “Good.”

Tearing a long strip of fabric from the bottom of her tunic, she walks behind me. I feel silly as I stoop down and hold perfectly still. The layers of cloth appear before me and tighten around my head. I stiffen as Syndel's hands brush against the sides of my face. My hands clench in front of me, my breath catches. Bliss and agony whip at me mercilessly. The monster is always ready to pounce. It takes all my self-control not to whirl around and snatch her in my arms, either to take what the monster desires or...

The other option brings me back to my senses, but not for long. My sluggish heart expands within my chest, though it feels weightless. In my mind I see myself holding Syndel, not in a posture of attack, but as a true embrace. Our faces flush and, as slowly as time will allow, my lips touch hers. The image is so vivid it frightens me.

This has been my true desire since the moment I saw her face. The angel. My angel. I don't want her bright, glorious soul. I want all of her. The monster scoffs, stomping on this tiny sprig of hope with doubt, fear, self-loathing, unworthiness, and so many other emotions I can barely contain them. Somehow, I'm able to push through, burying my feelings for her deep beneath reality. I will never deserve her.

Using my hands, I find Hetty and climb into the saddle. I clutch her mane with shaking hands. My swollen heart shrinks, sitting beneath my ribs like a stone. “Lead the way.”

***

The dips and rises of the valley make my ride uncomfortable. I know Hetty is trying to watch her footing, but, not being able to anticipate the terrain, I jostle around like a doll. I've taken my sight for granted.

The fabric obstructs my sight enough to protect it, keeping me from seeing anything but the faintest of shapes and outlines. One shape belongs to Syndel. Yet, I don't need my eyes to know exactly where she is at all times. My awareness of her has increased, and it has nothing to do with her aura. I continue to see and feel the strength of her soul, but it no longer has the same draw. This doesn't mean I'm immune. The monster will always be waiting.

I quickly change the course of my thoughts before they do more damage. I can't allow myself to dwell on the impossible and insane. I have one duty and that's to protect her. I will never be the Soulless in my nightmare, no matter how hard the monster fights. I'll willingly give myself to the Noble-lords and become their mindless puppet if it means keeping her safe. For some morbid reason this makes me feel better.

The dimness of my blindfold is suddenly assaulted by an orange-yellow glare, brighter than Syndel's aura—brighter than the sun. I throw my arms across my face, but it does no good. “What is this?” I holler as pain rips through my eyelids, penetrating my brain. I can't breathe. Streaks of red swim in the light, dripping like blood. My muscles seize and I fall from Hetty's back, slamming my head against a rock. The pain doubles.

Through it all, my thoughts focus on Syndel. I can't tell where she is. Ripping off the blindfold, I try to find her, but my useless eyes see only the fiery light and its blotches of red. I've lost her, and now I'm about to lose my mind to the fire. Is this what happens when the Noble-lords win . . .?

Noble-lords.

If they've done this to me, what will they do to Syndel? With a snarl, I leap to my feet. “Show yourselves!” I bellow. “If any harm comes to her, I'll break your bodies one by one!”

My chest heaves and, to my surprise, the searing light threatening to consume my mind and body fades away. Within seconds, I'm free. Blinking a dozen times, I look around. The valley is covered with thick grass and thistles. The mountain pass is mere steps away. Above me, the sun is blocked by a merciful cloud.

Both Syndel and Hetty are gone.

I drop to my knees. A different pain comes, one that only takes hold of my heart. I failed to protect the one person who matters more to me than anything else. My breath shudders as something hot and wet touches my cheeks. Reaching up, I feel tears on my fingers. Real tears. It's not possible.

My head jerks up. Slowly, I inhale through my nose. The air holds two scents I recognize—Syndel and Hetty—and a third, less noticeable, mixed with them. Getting to my feet, I follow them.

The scents take me back to the trees. I travel a mile or so until I come to a hillside. I climb, vaulting over patches of weeds and piles of gray-violet rocks. The scents grow stronger. I increase my speed until I hear the unmistakable sound of shod hooves coming toward me. “Hetty!”

My relief is minimal. Syndel is not with her. The mare trots to my side, her nose bumping against my shoulder. I grasp the sides of her face. “Where is she?” I whisper.

Moving her head away from my hands, she retraces her steps, leading me to a broad crack in the top of the hill. The fissure seems to split the mound in two. I stare down at the darkness, unable to see the bottom, yet I know Syndel is in there somewhere. If she's alive, I'll save her. If she's not . . .

Vengeance.

I pat Hetty's flank and then, without a second thought, I jump down.

The floor of the fissure isn't as steep as I expected. My feet hit the sloping side and skid along the smooth rock until it levels out. Standing up straight, I gaze along a tunnel. It is empty, save for a faint orange-yellow glow flickering non-threateningly at the far end. A torch? Candles? I have a feeling the light belongs to neither. It's similar to the light that assaulted me earlier. I strain my ears for sound. Nothing.

My instincts tell me it's a trap.

Trap or not, my feet take me forward. I'm not afraid. At least not for myself.

The tunnel makes a slight turn at the end, opening up to a chamber that strangely resembles a sitting room complete with bookcases, tables with knickknacks and ceramic vases, a fireplace, and cushioned sofas and chairs. One of the chairs is occupied by Syndel, whose gaze is fixed on the floor. I stare at her, my mind processing what my eyes see. She seems unhurt and she's alone. Where are her captors?

She lifts her head. Her eyes are red and puffy. She's been crying.

“Cress?”

Her voice is scratchy, yet it's like music to my ears, making all other sounds obsolete. “Are you all right?” I ask, waiting for my relief to be dashed by an ambush.

She nods, yet her hands are clutched tightly in her lap as if she too is waiting for something terrible to happen. “I'm sorry,” she says, the words barely audible. “I wanted to tell you . . .”

I take a step forward, but no more than that. The room explodes. The same blood-drenched fire consumes everything, giving me no time to react.

Unspeakable agony engulfs my entire body. My screams are hollow, my spasms earth-shattering. There is no end. It is unyielding, unchanging. I am fixed in this moment of eternal hell. The Noble-lords have won.

Then why hasn't my mind been stolen? And why, through the tortuous glare of light, can I still see her face? I focus on her, taking in every detail. Tears stream from her eyes; one of her hands is reaching out to me. If only I could take hold of it . . .

My feet are moving again, each step stiff and slow, yet the distance between us is shrinking. I'm going to make it.

The fire's rage suddenly increases, pushing me back. My insides are disintegrating, but I will not give up. Not until I've touched her one last time. With great effort, I lift my own hand and reach. Our fingertips are inches apart. I can't get closer. I try again, to no avail.

Syndel's gaze leaves mine and she says something I cannot hear.

“No,” a low voice declares somewhere in the chamber. “He must do it himself.”

I want to know who spoke, but I dare not break my focus. Syndel's eyes find mine again and instead of seeing more tears, I see encouragement. I see hope.

Part of me feels like laughing. Hope actually makes sense when Syndel is involved. She is, after all, the source of my hope. A smile graces her lips. I look at my outstretched hand. No. Our outstretched hands, now joined together. I did it. A different kind of fire sweeps through me. Anything is possible now. Wearing a smile of my own, I fall into nothingness.