Page 285 of Blade of the Nightking

Her brows drew together as she studied me, the bowstring taut, its arrow unwavering where it pointed at the hollow of my throat.

Then her gaze dropped to Rìan.

The tension bled from the bow at once. Her eyes widened with recognition. Then disbelief.

“So it’s true, then,” she breathed. “The Veil fell... but we never knew whether to believe the whisperings. Whether you’d come back…”

“I need your help, Saskia—” Rìan barely finished the sentence before his body seized with a fresh wave of pain. I dropped to my knees beside him at once, reaching for his arm.

Saskia shouldered her bow and knelt opposite me, paying me no mind whatsoever. She peeled Rìan's hand away from the wound, her frown deepening as she examined it.

“You're injured.”

“A bolt with an iron coating,” Rìan panted.

“You need a lodestone.”

“I do.”

She leaned closer, studying the wound before snapping her teeth. “Who did this?”

“It happened in Pelaga.”

“Pelaga?” She looked sharply back at him. “That's hours away.”

“I know.”

Her eyes narrowed as they flicked from the wound to his face. “You should be dead.”

“I had some assistance.” He nodded toward me. “The last Eidra.”

Saskia's gaze lifted to mine, her gray eyes widening beneath thick lashes. Despite her youthful face, her stare carried an ancient stillness that made my skin prickle.

Her attention drifted to my wrist, then to the knife still clutched in my hand. A faint smile touched her mouth as she caught sight of the carved bone hilt.

Before I could react, she reached for my free hand. Her grip was strong, her hands rough and callused, her nails packed with dirt. Still kneeling, she guided my palm to the center of her forehead. Around us, the other women followed suit, lowering their heads and pressing their own palms to their foreheads beneath the skulls they wore.

The same gesture Rìan had offered the Brinnekin. The same one Nadja had sought from him.

Saskia’s forehead was damp with sweat.

“The gods have returned,” she murmured. She sat back on her heels. “Welcome to the Barrows, Eidra. We've waited centuries for this day.”

As Saskia straightened, I caught sight of the curve of her ear beneath the tangled hair.

It wasn't pointed. It was rounded.

Human.

How? He'd been imprisoned beyond the Veil for three centuries. No human lived that long. How could Rìan possibly know her?

“It's... Elowen,” I said weakly, unable to tear my eyes from her. “My name is Elowen.”

“Elowen, then,” she smiled, showing crowded teeth.

Rising in one fluid movement, she gestured to the others. Four moved to lift Rìan. One woman planted her bare foot on the Brinnekin's chest and tore the arrow from her forehead before the others hoisted her up, several moving immediately to support the enormous tail, nearly the length of Rìan himself.

I didn't know why they were taking the Brinnekin with them, but I didn't ask.