WATCHED
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Saya Claymore
Shadows move. That’s what they do—but not on their own. Not when the one casting the shadow stands still.
Gripped by fear, I watch the shadow hover across the wall. The flame between me and the moving shadow does not flicker. There is no breeze. What I am seeing can be nothing more than an illusion.
Trickery.
But this isn’t trickery. This isn’t an illusion. Before me, floating across the tiled walls, is a shadow with long hair flowing behind it, while mine rests stiffly against my back.
I can’t even run. I’m immobile from fear, holding a fucking can of fruit.
The shadow moves to the side wall, creeping closer.
My hand that held the dagger earlier flexes, but my panic is so suffocating, I can’t call the blade.
Long, clawed hands break away from the shadow, reaching for me. “Pir avacen,” she whispers, with the same voice I would hear when I prayed with Mum.
Icy hands touch my face, as though trying to convince me they’re vegodian. I suck in a breath, and with it, I’m standing in the meadow like I was with Serun. The moonflowers and vervain glow like cold heartbeats.
Magik draws up my fingertips, a crack in the wall.
With a heavy-lidded blink, I pull the essence back into the kitchen with me. Words breathe from my mouth, controlled, precise, as if I’ve said them a thousand times before. “Fink hon.”
They are the same words Mum used whenever the village endured a storm and the electricity burned out, leaving us in the dark. It feels as though I’m stealing words I’ve never learned and claiming them as mine, but somehow, I know these words mean pulse light, in vegodian.
White light bursts forth and shadows break away like puzzle pieces. Blinding incandescence burns the walls and floors, stripping away the night and turning it to day.
I take a step, rolling my ankle with a wince. Still, I push through with gritted teeth and run. Light radiates from me as I barge through the double doors, still clutching a fucking can of fruit.
I race through the manor for my room, pulses of light bursting from my skin and illuminating everything it touches. Whatever darkness floods these walls flees from me as I pass, finally barging my way into the office.
Suddenly, exhaustion grips me and the light from my body fades. With a final step, darkness falls.
Fucking—
I try to keep myself upright with the desk, only for my hand to slip on the book. I drag it with me as I collapse to the wooden floor. Pages turn, letters blurring as the edge of my vision creeps into the centre.
Vervain plants are a barrier of protection created from vegodian magik. Burning them…
Exhaling, I close my eyes, as a bite of frost touches my cheek and down my jawline. “What an odd place to sleep.”
Serun?
“The one and only.” I rise, as if floating in the air, and I rest my head against a tense chest that cools my burning skin. Too tired to open my eyes, my entire body sags in acceptance.
“Nightwalker,” I groan, struggling to bring myself to talk. “You have a liar’s tongue…”
“I do.”
“You’re holding it after I sleep. I have questions.”
“Any other requests before my consort falls asleep because she overexerted her magik?”
“You saw?” I murmur.
“I saw a very Saya-shaped glowing human running upstairs, as if she stole the very stars,” he chuckles.
I sigh.
His hands tighten on my flesh. “Remember I spoke of my fears when we were in the feeding ground?”
I grunt.
“When I heard your heartbeat sputter tonight, I was fucking afraid.”
Pinching my brows together, I rest my head against his chest, any words I might have spoken becoming inky streams instead.