His face was incredulous. “Moira?—”
Screw it. “There’s a rumor about Giulia’s death, that she was killed by a skinwraith.”
Ciaran froze, paling further. “I-I had nothing to do with that, I swear.”
Of course he’d deny it.
My throat constricted and I stepped away, feeling sick. How could he betray me like this?
Would he betray me like this?
He’d been so furious. So adamant that we needed to tell someone.
And he was the only one who knew outside of Tara and my mother. I couldn’t believe either of them would let that information slip.
Raging at him here wouldn’t get me the truth. Not with Moira bleeding on the ground.
I needed to find Rykr.
Without another word, I turned away. Despite his sister’s injuries, Ciaran sprang up, following me. “Seren, you have to believe me?—”
“I don’t know if I do.” I gave him a sharp look over my shoulder. “You hate him. You want to see him gone. And your love for the tribe—telling them what happened?—”
“But I didn’t!” Ciaran’s face flushed red. “Godsdammit, Seren, I wish I had told them! Look at this forest! Look at the dead and injured, including my sister. I don’t know who is dead, but those things got to the encampment first. They attacked the most defenseless in our tribe. If we’d said something, we could’ve been more prepared, but I didn’t. And now I’m just as guilty as you are because I didn’t say a fucking word.”
Acid burned in my throat.
I swallowed hard and shook my head, unsure of what to think or believe. “I have to go. I have to find Rykr.”
Ciaran reached for my hand, but I pulled it out of his grasp. “Seren, listen to me, I know you care about him but?—”
“Not here. Not now.” My voice was frosty. Turning on my heel, I dashed forward. “Rykr!” Silence had settled into the bond between us. I had to find Rykr. Something was wrong.
My arms and legs ached with each step, a reminder of the last few nights training with him and the sparring ring this morning. The strange weakness I felt—as though something had been taken from me—wasn’t him, was it? That wasn’t how the bond worked. He died, I died … right?
The entire tone of the encampment had changed, and it was a whirlwind of movement as tents were broken down, wooden pikes sharpened and stacked, wounded cried in misery, survivors wailed in anguish. The stark remains of tents smoldered from destruction that must have happened in the chaos of the attack.
This no longer looked like a village, but a smoking ghost town.
A tribe on the move.
How long had I been unconscious, and what had caused that? It seemed several hours had passed. How was that possible? Ciaran had carried me straight here, hadn’t he?
My mother appeared by my side once again, as though she’d been watching, waiting to talk to me. “Darling, listen to me,” she said, hurrying to keep up with me. “The tribe is restless and looking for someone to blame. They fear what they don’t know. Come with me. He needs you.”
I gave my mother a worried look. “Rykr?”
She nodded.
“You know where he is?”
She took my hand. “This way. Seth and Darya are guarding him.”
What in the gods’ name?
I rushed behind her, dread filling me. “Has something happened to him?”
“I tried to tell you … he used your powers, I think. But all the tribe saw was a powerful Lirien with magic that frightened them. The Vangar mobbed him in their fury. Seth fought them off, but Rykr was badly wounded. I think he did his best to keep you from the pain, but you were too lost to the intrusion on your soul to know.”
