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“She was a nymph.”
Broca’s eyes brighten with a gleam I can’t decipher. She glances over at Kendall before continuing. “You are good with nature? Manipulating life?”
Tori’s expression hardens. “Plants. Not humans.”
“Tell me about the pain.”
“It was sharp. Like being stabbed.”
Her words distract me as I climb to my feet. How does she know what it’s like to be stabbed?
Before I can ask, Tori’s eyes narrow at the glaistig. “I thought you were here to answer my questions, not the other way around.”
“Do you have enemies?” Broca asks, completely ignoring Tori’s comment.
Tori snorts.
Broca’s brows lift at that. “I see.”
“Is it a curse?” Tori asks.
Broca doesn’t answer. Her green irises morph to cloudy white as she calls forth her power. In the distance, thunder rumbles. Broca begins muttering quietly. The air in the room warms, and my skin prickles. I take a step forward, not sure whether to intervene or not. But then Broca stops, and the pressure subsides.
“Well?” I demand.
“She’s cursed.”
The glaistig stands, and Tori leans forward, suddenly earnest. “That’s it?”
“What else is there?” Broca faces me, a shadow darkening her gaze.
There’s more, but she won’t say it here.
“How about telling me how to fix it,” Tori demands.
Broca glances over her shoulder then back at me. “Stop touching people,” she says and then walks out.
“Is she serious?” Tori demands.
“I’ll be right back,” I say and follow Broca out into the hall.
She’s fast, and I don’t catch her until we’re at the end of the hall near the stairs. Instead of taking them, she keeps moving, somehow seeming to know her way around despite the winding turns of this place.
“Tell me the rest of it,” I say.
She casts me a sideways glance that does nothing to ease the worry tightening my chest. “Walk with me.”
I walk with her to the back doors that lead to the gardens, waiting for her to say more, but she continues silently onward, all the way back to the courtyard where the narrow stairs lead down to the road. The wind is stronger here, whipping her red hair against her collar. I bite my tongue, knowing if I push her, it’ll only make her more difficult.
“Who is the young one?”
Her question is not one I expect. “What?”
“The girl. The seer. What do you know about her?”
“Kendall? She is dark fae and nymph like her sister. I don’t know much else.”
“Has she had training?”
