Beacon: A Progression Romantasy Adventure (Aurora's Rift Book 2) by Emmie Mears

Author:Emmie Mears [Mears, Emmie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robot Dinosaur Press
Published: 2024-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-One

Because of my terse closing words before we set off, the last thing I’m expecting is Lorinal to come walk beside me within minutes.

Even more unexpected, the first words out of her mouth are “I’m sorry.”

She could be sorry for almost letting us die . . . or she could be about to tell me she has decided to join Arnantas.

The thought turns bitter faster than that horrid anti-nail-biting treatment my mother used to coat my fingers in. Lorinal may not have followed the trajectory of our current course to its logical conclusion, but before long, I highly suspect Sirethan will be a very polarised fracture of us versus them.

It may really come down to me or Arnantas.

I’m not sure I like those odds.

When I don’t say anything, Lorinal makes a small frustrated noise. “Are you going to make me grovel?”

“No, I’m going to ask you to use more words so I know whether you’re apologising for the arena battle or if you’re apologising because you’ve reconsidered your affiliations.”

Lorinal’s mouth opens and closes twice. I think I’ve surprised her, either with my bluntness or my inability to read her mind.

“I’m very sorry that I let you down in the arena. I spent the night meditating and praying about what I should do.” Her voice gives off a whiff of bewilderment, as if she’s surprised herself now.

“Did any insight come to you?” I try to keep my voice as neutral as possible, aware of Ferelthin’s too-silent presence and Eldan’s distance where he brings up the rear with two of the harts.

“No,” Lorinal says wryly. “None. And it occurred to me that . . .”

I let her trailing words hang there and wait for her to say whatever she’s about to say. Whatever it is, I don’t think she expected to make herself this vulnerable. I didn’t expect that from her. Vulnerability and Lorinal are things that don’t mix well, like slathering peanut butter on a fried egg.

Lorinal blows out a breath through clenched teeth, which makes it sound more like a release of pressurised steam than a person’s exhale.

“I have been a follower of the One God since I was an adolescent. But it occurred to me that I’ve never heard him speak to me. I can, however, hear you.”

I hold my mouth shut with the force of pure will, both because I’ve no intention of being a god and because it doesn’t matter how aware I am that religion is founded on faith. Having someone make a choice to put another person in harm’s way because they think their non-present god wants them to do it is something I have never understood—and I don’t want to understand.

“Say something, for fuck’s sake,” Lorinal blurts out.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask her the question with as much neutrality in my tone as I can manage. It still comes out dipped in irritation. “Do you want me to say that the humans’ religion almost always requires adherents to be a

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