VIOLENT DELIGHTS¹ ━━ John Murphy

𝖛𝖎𝖎. Brother-Sister Bonding

𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗-𝖘𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌

          WANHEDA.

     Commander of Death.

     Clarke Griffin.

     Three things that very much should not have anything in common — unless Clarke Griffin were to be killed by the Commander of Death. But she can't be killed by the Commander of Death because Clarke Griffin is the Commander of Death, and she never really struck Glass as the suicidal type. Though, to be fair, she never really struck Glass as the mass-murdering genocidal type either. But here she is, three months and three hundred and eighty deaths later.

     Clarke fought the mountain and somehow, somehow, she won.

Good for her! But, also, now the Azgeda Queen wants her head and Lexa has an order for her capture. Not so good for her!

Word is she's on the run. After what she did at Mount Weather, she'd turned her back on her people and disappeared into the dark night. But the shadows whisper — Bounty Hunters and traders and mercenaries who don't align themselves with any one clan — and their eyes have been on Wanheda for many moons. Now that bounties crown her head, Wanheda is being hunted, whether she knows it or not.

"You should've worn a cloak."

     Glass rolls her eyes. "I already told you, I'm not cold."

     "Are you sure?" Roan raises a thick brow. "It's going to get colder when the sun sets."

     "Um, I'm from Ice Nation," she huffs pointedly. "I don't get cold."

"You look cold."

"I'm not cold!"

"Si vobis yu tu shof op?" The Trishanakru scout they've taken with them grumbles. "Bene nowe captis Wanheda laik disha."

Would you two shut up? We'll never capture Wanheda like this.

Glass refrains from shouting at him to know his place. If he knew who he dared raise his voice at, he'd be on his knees and groveling for forgiveness in a heartbeat. But he doesn't.

White and black war paint is smeared across her face, sticky and rough. Roan's is similar. Dozens of scouts and bounty hunters have been scouring the earth for any sign of Wanheda, this oaf of a man being one of them. As it is forbidden for Roan to be anywhere on clan territory, his disguise saves his life. Meanwhile, Glass can neither get caught with Roan or have the Queen find out that she's going behind her back and, technically, betraying her.

Technically. It's a technicality. Because surely the Queen will see that Glass was in the right when all is said and done and Roan can just come home.

So. Here she and Roan stand (with this scout idiot) and they are back on Glass's absolute favorite place on the entirety of the miserable little planet — Trikru territory! That's right, somehow — somehow — Glass has managed to find herself back in the wilderness surrounded by trees and rocks and mud. Which, by the way, is currently mushy because it rained a few nights ago. It even smells like dirt and rain, to the point where Glass is trying to breathe through her mouth instead of her nose, because ew.

(And the woods hold memories, long-lost words clinging to the shadows and burned into rough bark.)

There's a trading post up ahead, and the Trishanakru scout beckons for them to follow. Roan and Glass exchange looks before dutifully marching behind him.