Ciaran’s expression made things clearer. He was here to protect her—cared about her. Maybe more than that.
Seren flicked her calm gaze back at me. “I had to use blood magic to save you. Your hair changed because of it. Magic like this always leaves its mark.”
Seren moved a few paces away, lifting a small, hazy mirror. She held it up for me to see.
My hair was dark.
I snatched the mirror from her, barely recognizing my reflection. My face was the same, though the scruff of my jaw was as dark as my hair. A long, thin scar with puncture points marred the right side of my neck, healing unusually fast, given what had happened.
A large tattoo had formed over the scar, spreading from the wound on my neck over my right shoulder onto my chest, an intricate design of runes and knots … just like the one on her left arm. Combined with the Seal between my shoulder blades and on the back of my neck, I now had black and crimson tattoos swathing most of my upper right torso.
The dark hair and tattoo disgusted me, not because of how they looked, but because of how I felt—like a stranger in my own skin. Something about me, something deep and irretrievable, was missing. A presence hummed in my mind that I couldn’t decipher, pressing into my thoughts.
“I want to know exactly what happened. Right now.”
“The vuk attacked and somehow you killed it.” Seren’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “I’ve never seen a vuk attack. Or heard of anyone killing one successfully. They’re immortal. Impossible to kill.”
“What happened then?”
Ciaran took a menacing step closer. “Then she should have let you die. Or killed you. The Viori code forbids us from allowing Liriens in the forest to live, except the first day of the Harvest Moon, if they seek refuge.”
“But the first day of the Harvest Moon is approaching. Wouldn’t I be admitted to your people by your own laws?”
“The first day only. Anyone who comes outside that time must be killed.”
“So, you’re just murderers?” I challenged his glare. “You kill all Liriens, regardless of the threat they pose?”
“I can handle myself, Ciaran,” Seren said firmly, then stepped between us, her face darkening at me. “If you’re done with your tantrum, I’ll answer your questions. Before you throw any more accusations, though, you might want to remember that I chose to save you, even at the risk of breaking the code. You never should have been in the Dreadwood to begin with.”
Dalric. Thorne.
What had happened to my friends?
I had no idea if they were dead or alive. Or how to help them.
“The Dreadwood belongs to Lirien. My reasons for being there aren’t your concern,” I snapped. “Now tell me what the fuck you did to me, and why—if it was your duty—you didn’t let me die?”
Seren sheathed her dagger. “Because in my family, a debt of a life is always paid with a life.”
I studied her. “Your family is from Pendara.”
She nodded.
Somehow, that comforted me slightly.
“Am I your prisoner then?”
Seren turned toward Ciaran. “I need a few minutes alone with him.”
The ox didn’t take his eyes off me. “If he causes trouble?—”
“He won’t.” Her voice held quiet authority. “Stay outside. I’ll call for you if I need you.”
His jaw tightened, but he obeyed, retreating with a sharp glance my way. “I’ll be close.”
As the tent flap fell shut, I crossed my arms. “Your lover, I take it?”
“Ciaran is a friend. Nothing more.” Seren frowned.
