Chapter 6 #2
“Slow down.” The stranger urges his horse alongside mine, his hand outstretched as if to hold me back. Then he edges ahead, placing his horse between me and whatever waits beyond.
I frown at him. The message is clear. He expects me to follow his lead. Irritation slices through my chest, as cutting as the wind whipping toward us. I don’t like it. I don’t even want him here. But stars save me, I have no choice.
“You know, I’m not a hopeless damsel in distress.”
The words tumble out before I can stop them. Instantly, I want to take them back. He’s not Taliesin Wynn, or a rebel, but he’s clearly some other enemy of the Order. It’s in my best interest for him to underestimate me.
His pale blue eyes sharpen on my face. “Oh, that I can tell, Swynwraig. But we don’t know what awaits us. Or who. We should leave our horses here, so they don’t hear us coming.”
The intensity of his gaze sends a fire rushing up my neck.
I swallow and glance away, though it does little to dull the heat.
I can still feel him watching me, like he’s cataloguing my every reaction, every expression, every slight tension in my body, so he can dissect it all later to understand exactly what I am.
We tether our horses to a weathered rock and leave them grazing at the road’s edge. Keeping low, we push through the bracken and tall coastal grass, following the cries of the gulls. As we draw closer, several plunge toward the ground. White feathers float on the wind and settle on the stones.
We inch forward. The stranger’s shoulder brushes mine.
A crushing cold presses through my cloak, startling me.
I glance at him sharply, expecting…something.
Anything. A shard of ice? I don’t know. But his eyes remain fixed ahead, determination carving a deep crease between his brow, like he didn’t feel it at all.
The Order exiled Taliesin Wynn from the Kingdom of Gwalia because he threatened to turn Caer Draen into a frozen wasteland. The High Swynwragedd insist he can wield ice infused with magic, powerful enough to cover the entire continent.
But no frost glimmers along this stranger’s skin.
Am I imagining things?
His breath catches, and he stills. “Fuck.”
Tensing, I follow his gaze. At the base of the tree slumps a vacant-eyed man, his head tipped back against the wood.
His unmarked neck is ruined by a bloody wound.
A seagull perches on his shoulder, pecking away bits of flesh.
Others swoop low, batting their wings each other, their shrieks cutting my ears.
Nausea burns the back of my throat. I press a hand to my mouth, my eyes watering.
For a long moment, we wait in silence. I know what I’m thinking. He’s likely thinking it, too. The wound looks fresh. Whoever did this can’t be far. I listen for footsteps but hear only the rattle of the tree branches and the distant roar of the poisonous sea.
Slowly, he rises and moves to the corpse.
I follow, taking in the emptied pack, the broken dagger scattered in pieces across the ground, and the Order’s clasp fastened at his throat.
I don’t recognize him. There are hundreds of us in the Order now, but that doesn’t lessen the sting of sorrow. He’s family. The only one I’ve got.
My hands drop heavily to my sides.
“You know him?” the stranger asks, glancing toward me.
I shake my head.
“It’s not often I run into one of you out here. Now I’ve seen two in less than a full turn of the sun.” His gaze flicks back to the body. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
My pulse quickens. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice I don’t like. And now, more than ever, I’m certain he reviles the Order. But who is he? What does he want with me? And if I answer incorrectly, how will he react?
But more urgently, I worry he’s right. What are the odds another Order member is this close to the northern coast—only a handful of miles from the warded lands—at the same time I am?
They could have sent him to look for me.
With a message, or a request to return to Caer Draen.
Or…my chest tightens. Something’s happened to Osian.
I need to search his things. See if I can find any hint as to why he was here.
“I swear I’ve never seen him before.” I frown and point at the horses up the hill. “What’s that? Is someone there?”
He turns. I nudge the dead man’s pack with my boot and peer inside. Empty. Whoever attacked him took everything.
“Did you see something?” he asks, his gaze sweeping the road.
“I thought I did.” I shrug. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Hmm. Get behind the tree. Wait there.” He glances over his shoulder, his eyes burning with a cold intensity. “Keep low. If something comes for you, scream.”
I bristle at his command, but at least the diversion worked.
As he stalks up the road, I duck behind the tree.
The corpse stares back at me with vacant eyes.
He’s younger than I first thought. Can’t be more than twenty or twenty-one.
Sighing, I lift my fingers to his throat, hesitating over the bloodied skin.
After everything that’s happened, I hate doing this, but I have no choice. I need to know why he’s here.
“Anadl einioes,” I say, my voice flat.
The magic surges through me. I flinch at its sting, hating the way it pricks my nerves like a thorned rose. Hating the screams that echo in my mind. Hating the metallic burn on my tongue.
Hating the way it makes people look at me, like I’m a wild beast that needs to be caged.
Because sometimes I wonder if I am.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, another memory crumbles like ash.
I gasp, reaching for it. No, not that one.
I hiss through my teeth, feeling the sudden loss like a punch in the gut.
This time, the magic took something important from me.
I sink back on my heels, straining to scan my mind for whatever it was, but of course I can’t remember it now.
It’s gone. Forever.
You never notice when something becomes everything until it’s ripped away.
Tears fall, and the ache in my chest swells. What did I lose? Please, don’t let it be Osian. Trembling, I scramble to find my memories of him.
And he’s there.
His name still rings in my mind. I can remember the day we met. His rich laughter. The crinkling of his eyes when he smiles. I sag forward, relief rushing through me. At least I still have all my memories of him.
And as long as I have those, I’ll be fine.
The corpse’s cloak rustles. Seagulls hover above, shrieking, like they can sense what I’ve done to their meal.
I brush my tears aside just as the man’s eyelids twitch.
His vacant stare brightens for a moment, but darkness still hovers at the corners, waiting to drag him back to the land of the dead.
I have no memories of this man. He’ll be gone in minutes.
“Hello?” he croaks, his voice far too loud.
I press a finger to my lips. “Speak quietly. There’s danger nearby.”
“Who are you?” he asks, nervously wetting his lips. “What do you want from me?”
I lean closer, despite the scent of death wafting off him. “I need you to answer a question for me. Who sent you here? Are you looking for someone? What is your mission?”
I wince. That was three questions. Corpses get confused when you ask too much of them at once. Rookie mistake. Clearly, my nerves are getting the better of me.
He suddenly shudders, his body jerking against the tree. I grab his clammy hand and hold it tight. A tether to the here and now. It won’t work long, but hopefully it’s enough for him to answer.
“Tell me your mission,” I command. He’s compelled to answer me honestly. It’s the only control I have over the resurrected…in most cases.
“Exile,” he hisses between clenched teeth. “Don’t…go near… M?rfaen Cliffs. They…will trap him.”
Confusion whips through me. “What? The Order plans to trap the exile at the M?rfaen Cliffs? How?”
The cliffs are just past the border, edging the warded veil that keeps the exile confined to his tower.
He shouldn’t even be able to reach them.
But that’s not the strangest part. What he’s saying directly contradicts my mission.
Why would the Order set a trap when they’ve already sent me to use my power against him?
A knot twists in my gut. None of this makes sense.
“There’s more,” he rasps. “The veil…broken.” His hand goes limp, and his gaze shutters.
Cold dread washes over me. I let the corpse slide from my fingers and stumble back, his words ringing in my mind like a warning bell. The warded veil has been broken, which means…there’s nothing to hold the exile in the tower. Taliesin Wynn is free.
My gaze shifts to the road above. The silver-haired stranger stands by the horses, his cloak whipping around his powerful frame. He’s glaring down at me. And for one horrifying moment, I forget how to breathe.
I swear I see something ancient and terrible in his eyes.
No, he can’t be.
It’s the thought I’ve whispered to myself since the moment I first laid eyes on him. But now I know he could be.