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Knowing my name is one thing; it’s another to know about his mental state. How could she possibly know of the other alters? I didn’t even know that until recently.
Dessin takes a taunting step forward, looming over me like a reaper of chaos.
“That prophecy of yours knows intimate details about my life,” he says calmly. Too calm. It’s the peace in the eye of a storm. “Details that I’ve kept hidden at great cost to me.”
The woman lifts her chin, quickly becoming aware that she has treaded too far. “My name is—”
But Dessin has a sword slicing through the air until he reaches her neck. The woman is nailed to a tree, broad hands encapsulating her pallid throat.
“I’ve killed for less,” he growls next to her ear.
I’m on my feet with DaiSzek, who is snarling at the sudden outbreak of violence. He can’t kill her. We need to find out how she knows so much.
“The woman who—birthed you,” she croaks. That colorless face swiftly turned a sickly shade of pink. “Sophia!” she blurts with every bit of strength she has left.
Dessin loosens his grip, awakened in a way by the name of Kane’s mother.
“Speak.”
“She must have shared the stories of the colonies. And when she did, she would have given you advice for when you are grown and in a time of need!” The woman’s words that were once laced with sultry appeal and warm vanilla sweetness are now urgent and forced.
Dessin looks off in the distance. Listening. Waiting. Analyzing something no one else can hear.
Kane.
Sophia must have told all of this to Kane, not Dessin. He’s scouring their memories or listening to Kane confirm or deny this new information.
Dessin’s eyes dart back to the woman, still gasping for breath. “She said to seek out the seven forests for safe harbor. The ancient colonies know more than the city.” He speculates her stance, those eyes suffused with menacing darkness. “What is your name?”
“Runa,” she says, standing straighter now. “Our prophecy says you would stumble in our territory at the years of nineteen and twenty-three.”
The space between them collapses as Dessin backs away, sliding his glance to me.
“You want to help us?” I ask.
“So it is written.”
I find Dessin’s gaze. “We should go with her,” I tell him. “At least until we know more about this prophecy.”
But he isn’t sure. If it isn’t written in his grand plan, it must not have been written at all. The confusion and doubt casting over his features are like shooting stars. Rare. Mythical, even.
I inch forward. “We owe it to Sophia to look into this.”
His attention snaps back to me like a rubber band. Confusion clears from the murky water of his mind. He nods. Although, I can see it isn’t easy or natural for him to be deterred from his own plans.
Dessin turns on his heels to face Runa. “If you betray us… I won’t hesitate to behead you first.”
Understanding washes over her cold, pointed expression. If she knows as much as she claims, then it should be apparent to her that Dessin is true to his word.
~
Venturing back into the Evergreen Dark Wood is a dower, silent journey. Dessin keeps me close to his side as we follow behind Runa. He’s on high alert, watching her steps with precise detail, scanning the forest for threats, even with DaiSzek keeping a closer eye on the perimeter.
“Is there anything we need to know before entering a fortress that may or may not try and trap us inside?” Dessin’s skepticism rolls off his tongue with lazy ease.
“Actually, yes.” Runa turns her head to give us a side-glance. “We never see outsiders here. And most don’t believe in prophecy anymore. It’s the way of our ancestors and since nearly forgotten to our generation.”
I hadn’t realized I was fidgeting with my hair until Dessin’s hand caressed my back, calming the nervous current running through me. My body sighs in relief, air expelling in a silent flutter from my lungs.
