I couldn't articulate what had happened, or the devastation of losing the entire coven in one fell swoop, only that I’d lost my family. The aftermath of keeping the exact, horrifying details of the attack to myself have led to his ongoing concern about my safety, and it’s the first question he’s asked each morning.
I'm safe… are you?
I try to make it sound casual and inviting because, if this man is my mate, I feel as though we should be learning more about each other, but I don't have any experience with this sort of thing. The only men I’ve been around were those in the coven. When you grow up with the same group of boys, it makes flirting or teasing impossible. They'd all known me since I was born, and there was no way to be coy with such people.
They also only ever seemed likeboysto me, and the voice in my head is most assuredly aman.
As safe as I've ever been. I've already told you not to worry about me, croí.
I wonder which coven he belongs to. There are hundreds of them spread around the Southern Lands, many of them large enough to aid Pemba and I in restoring our home, and a small seed of hope plants itself in my mind. If he’s a Briarwood witch, or even a Wyndlore witch, then our home may be saved. I get a sense of power from him, and not just from the commanding way he speaks to me. He’s self-assured and demanding, sure, but there’s a strength in him that radiates into my mind.
I’ve been relying on that a lot these past few days.
I have every intention of finding this man once I’ve been to the Seer and been told my fate. To be perfectly honest, I'm hoping that the Seer will point me in his direction. Then I won't have to continue playing these games with him. Just this once, I’d like to have an easy path to follow.
You're tired. What has been keeping you up?
He’s poking at me again, a gentle push for information, as though he’s trying to gather clues. It’s endearing, and maybe just a little humbling too. I don't know how he can feel my exhaustion, and I start to wonder whether I'm going to be able to keep him out of my mind when I want to, especially if he can feel it at such a distance.
This could be dangerous.
He’s beginning to sense more through the connection—my emotions seem easier for him to read when I let down my barriers to speak with him. I need to lay some groundwork, tell him some details to bridge the gap between us without giving too much away.
My brother and I are traveling together. It’s a long walk, and I'm not used to covering such distances.
He doesn't like that answer, and I can feel his reaction to my discomfort very strongly.
Where are you? It's dangerous to be on the open roads at the moment.
Wherever he is, he’s not as sheltered as I’ve been.
He must know of the war Pemba was talking about, and the unrest in the Southern Lands. He could be a traveler or high up within his coven—he sounds confident and assertive, so I’d guess he’s in a position of power. The way that he draws information out of me is far too skilled for him to be a villager or a farmer. Those life-paths aren’t bad, but I’d guess he’s somethingmore.
I want to tell him where we are, to find his coven and get my brother to safety and away from all the responsibility he's carrying for us both, but something stops me.
Something always stops me.
I already told you I'm safe. If you don't want to tell me your name or where you are, then I'm not going to tell you where I am either.
He's frustrated at that answer, and I sigh deeply enough that it wakes Pemba. He lets out a small groan as he stretches as far as the natural enclosure will let him. I keep my eyes shut a moment longer, just a little extra time to enjoy the voice’s presence before the hard journey of the day begins.
It's better for both of us if you don't know until I get there. Safer for us both, croí. Tell me where you are, and I will come and get you.
I won’t.
We both know it.
I open my eyes…just in time to see inky black fingers wrap around Pemba’s ankle and tug violently as a wraith pulls him out of the tree hollow with an ear-splitting screech.
CHAPTER TWO
Pemba lets out a shocked yelp as he’s dragged across the riverbank, straight down to the frigid water’s edge.
I scramble up and stumble after the skeletal being, desperate and only thinking of my brother. It doesn't attempt to harm Pemba, but wraiths never do to begin with. It's taking him back to its nest, and only once he’s there will it devour him whole.
I'm not going to let that happen.
When it opens its mouth to let out a screech, it shows off rows of blackened teeth, a gnarled tongue that lolls about too much, and green-tinted strings of saliva. Its eyes, misted over with a white film that makes me sure it can’t actually see us, roll around in its head as its nostrils flare coltishly.
