Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
Lost
Clouds suffocated Aoife’s view, the air in her lungs thin. Hostile. Wind twisted around her, creating a sheet of blizzard-white. She saw nothing. Knew nothing. Except that she was far from where she’d meant to be.
She had summoned the Gates and walked through them, expecting to go home.
Now, she didn’t know where she was. She only knew she was alone, and cold.
So very cold. Aoife shivered in the middle of the Gates-Knew-Where, her robes about as good to her as being naked.
She suspected the Head Priestess may have been right: the Gates hadn’t wanted to be summoned.
Aoife had felt their anger when they had appeared to her.
As if she had ripped them from a deep, sumptuous sleep.
She had felt the ripples of their disdain as she’d walked through them.
The in-between had not been full of stars and hope this time.
No, it had been dark. Red. Like a monster’s murderous eyes.
She should not have done it. Should not have walked through the Gates, but what did they expect of her?
They had promised her true love and then given her a man promised to another.
They had broken their promise first.
Pulling her knees to her chest, Aoife tried to warm herself. Tried to keep her frozen body alive a little longer. She needed to think. To get out of here. But she was cold. And tired.
So very, very tired.