“No. We go in together.”
“It’s not necessary. I can—”
But he cut me off with a shake of his head. “Let me be clear:You’re here because I asked it of you. My people don’t take risks that I’m not willing to take.”
There was something heavy in his eyes, like he was literally shouldering my burden. I hadn’t asked that of him and didn’t expect it. We were the Lady’s people, me and Wren, and even she didn’t offer her protection. And I wondered what it might be like to have that shelter, that protection, from someone who wasn’t paying me for work.
For now, the rules were his to make. “Your coin, your choice.”
Nik looked at Galen. “Stay here with the horses. We may need a quick getaway,” he added before Galen could object, and followed me to the threshold.
If the Anima were bothered that we moved closer, they didn’t show it. They continued in their slow circle when we reached the door and stepped inside, the increasing pain around my heart throbbing a warning.
The room was empty and smelled of dust and long-untouched things. There was an empty hearth at one end, a small window at the other. The wooden floor was scattered with leaves and dirt and debris, and instead of gods, glossy black spiders waited in corner cobwebs, surveying all that happened below.
A low doorway led to the left. I walked toward it and whatever waited beyond, and saw the shape on the ground, sparkling with dirty green Aether. I rushed toward the body and crouched down, but we were too late. His eyes were open and staring.
He had light brown skin, dark hair, and pinprick scars from sparks and hot metal. “His name is Tommen,” I said. “He’s a blacksmith from the district. He’s a good man.”
“Who it seems came to a lonely end,” Nik said. He touchedTommen’s forehead, then gently closed his empty eyes. “He hasn’t been dead long.”
That was the worst kind of tardiness: when a few moments might have made the difference.
“And he’s covered in Aether,” I said, wincing at a particularly firm pinch in my chest.
“There are no obvious wounds,” Nik said, looking him over. “Could he have been killed with Aether?”
“I don’t know.” There were small, singed holes in his clothes, and the skin beneath was burned, but he didn’t bear the jagged traces we’d seen on Innis’s arm. “Maybe the practitioner tried another possession but it didn’t work. Or maybe these marks are just something Aether can do. Something a practitioner can make it do.”
“Innis didn’t have them.”
“Not that I saw, no.” My ignorance felt like an unscalable wall and left me frustrated. “I want to help, but this is all unfamiliar.” I needed Luna, but she didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t have a way to reach her when she wasn’t already near.
“You aren’t alone there.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Is he why the Anima are here?”
“Probably. Anima who remain in our world can be drawn to Aether if there’s enough of it.”
“Does it frighten you?” he asked. “Seeing them, I mean?”
I shook my head. “Anima can cause trouble, but they don’t usually have the power to hurt anyone physically.” I looked back at Tommen and sighed. “The ones who are devastated—that’s hardest.”
“Because they’re the most human.”
I looked up at him and found his gaze on Tommen now, sympathy furrowing his brow.
“Yeah,” I said. “What was he doing this far from the stronghold?”
“We’ll ask his family. For now, let’s check the next room.” He rose and offered me a hand. This time, I took it, climbed to my feet…and felt something slide beneath my boot.
I looked down, found a bit of linen near Tommen’s foot. I moved to it and picked up a drawstring bag with a familiar weight.
“What is it?” Nik asked.
I emptied the gleaming coins into my palm. “Maybe the reason he was out here.”
“Maybe he came to get paid.”
Before I could respond, there was a loud noise—the cracking of wood—behind the house.
