I settle back into my seat, forcing my hand away from the door. My wolf snarls its frustration, but for once, we're not at odds. We both want the same thing. To be with her, to protect her. The difference is merely in methods.
I turn to look at the Elvin man, truly studying him for the first time. His clothes are ragged, filthy from whatever ordeal he's endured. His pointed ears quiver with each panicked breath, and his once-fine features are gaunt with hunger and fear. Someone or something has carved strange symbols into his forearms, the wounds still healing.
"What's your name?" I ask, keeping my voice deliberately gentle.
He startles, eyes widening as if surprised to be addressed as a person rather than cargo. "T-Tharin," he manages after a moment. "Tharin of Willow River."
"You're safe now, Tharin," I tell him, though the words feel hollow even to my own ears. Are any of us really safe?
Cormac takes a sudden turn onto a narrow road that winds through dense trees. "I’ll send someone from the ranch to return the car after the sirens take us through."
Tharin stiffens in the back seat. "Sirens?" The single word carries a universe of terror.
"Not like before," I assure him quickly. "Our sirens are allies."
His eyes widen in panic. "No—no sirens. Please." He presses himself against the door, as far from us as the confines of the car will allow. "They took me. They?—"
"These sirens are safe," Cormac says firmly, but with compassion underlying his tone. "They've been with our rebellion from the beginning."
Tharin shakes his head violently, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow.
"We have no choice," I tell him. "It's the only way to reach the ranch without traveling for days."
The car slows as we approach a small, secluded pond, silver in the moonlight. Nothing about it appears remarkable to the human eye. And nothing should.
Cormac parks among the shadows of old oak trees. "I'll go first with the ring," he says, reaching into his pocket for the small silver band. "Call them and explain the situation."
He exits the car and approaches the water's edge, kneeling to touch the surface. The silver ring catches moonlight as it drops from his fingers, disappearing without a ripple.
I track Cormac's movements, muscles tense. Every second here is wasted.
Astrid is out there. Unprotected.
My plan solidifies. Get to the ranch. Extract information from the elf. Then return to Astrid before dawn. The connection between us throbs like an exposed nerve, my wolf clawing beneath my skin with each mile that separates us.
For a moment, nothing happens at the water's edge. Then a pale hand breaks the surface, fingers wrapping around Cormac's wrist as he leans forward. I catch fragments of their conversation… urgent tones, hushed warnings.
The scent of Cormac's concern reaches me before he does.
"She will return with two more," he says, sliding back into the driver's seat.
Tharin is trembling violently now, his eyes wide with panic. "No—please?—"
I turn in my seat to face him directly. "Tharin, look at me." I wait until his frantic eyes meet mine. "I give you my word as a Knight of the Round Table that no harm will come to you."
Something in my tone or perhaps the formal oath seems to reach him. His breathing slows slightly. After what feels like an eternity, he gives a small, jerky nod.
Relief floods through me. I was seconds from simply hauling him over my shoulder, oath or no oath.
Together, we help Tharin from the car. His body trembles like a trapped hare, adrenaline rolling off him in waves. I half-expect him to bolt. His legs barely support him, and I end up half-carrying him to the water's edge, my grip firm enough to prevent any sudden flight.
He stiffens with each step closer to the pond, muscles going rigid beneath my hand. The acrid scent of his terror intensifies.
"Close your eyes if it helps," I suggest.
At the shoreline, the water ripples before we even reach the edge. Almost immediately, three sirens surface in unison, their opalescent skin catching the moonlight. The first has hair the color of midnight mixed with brilliant purples, another's is pale as sea foam, and the third's is a burnished copper and bright reds that gleams like fire even in the darkness. All have eyes that shift color with each blink—blue to green to silver.
Tharin whimpers at the sight of them, his body pressing against mine. The stench of his terror spikes, sharp enough to make my wolf bare its teeth.
