And a man—broad and hooded and caped in black—standing in the shadowed midst of the potted shrub I stood beside only moments ago.
My heart races, a cold sweat prickling my skin as I study him.
He fills the space so effortlessly, like he was hewn for the darkness. Forged beneath its arcane pressure. For some strange reason, I picture him wrapping that same darkness over my face and using it to suffocate me.
I blink, and he’s gone.
Gasping, I flick my gaze over the surrounding space, kicking off the wall to garner a broader view of the courtyard.
Nothing.
Either my swelling insanity is carving specters from the shadowsor—
A low laugh crawls up my throat, morphing into a growl.
I pull out my sword, punch my lantern over the threshold, and charge into the night.
* * *
Damp earth clots between my toes with every haloed step. The lantern flame is my shield; the heady chorus of crickets my companion; the soft, barely there rain a refreshing spritz to my face and hands as I backtrack our earlier trail, glancing over my shoulder every few steps.
Packed full of restless energy, I scan the ground for whatever it was that tripped me earlier. I spot a root poking free from the earth like an upturned worm, and excitement bursts in my belly.
Waving my lantern off the track, I illuminate a sea of wet, bobbing shrubs attacked by the odd heavy drip of rain breaking through the canopy.
I think this is right.It looks so much different under the full cover of night …
I check the path both ways before tiptoeing off the tailored soil, my bare foot breaking through the carpet of loose twigs and rotting leaves …
Too loud.
Wincing, I check over my shoulder and rock into another crunching step, then another. The sleepy bundle of blue dawns into view, taming my galloping heart and easing my lips into a stolen smile.
Found you.
A shiver scuttles up my spine as I kneel in the damp earth, lay my sword in the soil, and pull the mug from my knapsack, tamping it full of soil that sticks to my hands. I use my finger to dig a trench around the bluebell’s base—
The crickets stop chirping.
Just ...stop.Like they all dropped dead.
The hairs on my arms lift, and a chill shrouds the back of my neck as the air around me hollows, like it’s suddenlystarving.
My next breath out is an alarming blow of white.
I freeze, pulse pounding in my ears, gaze fixed on the bluebells as a familiar perusal scribes across my skin like a cold flick of oil …
My heart stops, dug from my flesh and lumped in the soil as I let my eyes flutter closed.
Squeeze them tight.
Not him.
It’s not him, Orlaith.
I force them open and continue digging up the root ball as though the cold, prickly presence is nothing but another specter of my insanity, swiftly tucking the bluebells in their little mug-home. I pack some extra soil around the edges so they’re nice and snug, then pull it close to my chest and breathe.
Breathe …
