“Respectfully…” Lachlan started toward the garden gate. “You’re never walking anywhere ever again.”
Halla’s tattered gown and knotted hair glowed yellow in the dregs of the storm light. She trailed after Lachlan and Agatha quietly, her head bent toward the earth. The gray mist was rolling back in from the sea after being blown away by the storm, and it curled through the garden path, coiling around Imogen’s still-bare feet. She began wringing out the water from her long hair.
I studied her as she did. The exquisite lines of the muscles in her arms, the round of the shoulder that held her thick tumble of waves so well. Her lips were just parted; a drop of water hung from the end of her swooping nose. My gaze moved over her body slowly, noting the softness and the strength, the edge of the pale scar that peeked over the top of her soaked trousers.
And though I couldn’t articulate why, the word that came to mind wasboundless.Like the sea. Like the air. She moved the world around her. Her emotions ebbed and flowed with lucent power. Without even trying, she could alter the air in my chest.
Little wonder she fought like hell to be free.
I kept myself rooted beside the old hedgerow. “You lied.”
Slowly, she met my gaze and spent a long moment searching for her words. “You can tell.”
It wasn’t a question. She didn’t seem surprised.
“When I was younger,” she said, “Agatha used to tell me it was my eyes that gave me away. That I would blink too much.” She attempted a partial smile. “Do I still?”
I stepped closer. “No.”
The crease between her brows deepened. “What, then?”
“You stare too intently. You go too remote.”
She gave an empty, ironic laugh.
I went to her then. Stopped before her and lowered myself so we were eye to eye. “Tell me what happened.”
She recoiled. “If… if I do, if I acknowledge it—”
Her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes shut. I took her warm hand in mine and drew my fingers over the back of it as she breathed. The mist grew thicker, filling in between us. Finally, she looked up around the garden in wistful silence.
“Theo?” she whispered. “Do you think you could make something grow here?”
I squeezed her hand at the question, not certain how to answer.
“I just thought that—” Tears were collecting on her bottom lashes. “You could clear that spell from my stomach—I thought maybe…”
I turned her hand over in mine, so her scarred palm faced the strange sky. “You know, if we were bound again, you could try it yourself.”
She tried to glare at me, sweet little lines creasing her nose and eyes as she did. There was no ferocity in the look, though, and my mouth curled into a smile.
“Shame on you for being relentless when I’m down.”
“Is that a yes?”
She shook her head, regretfully. “No.”
I’d not expected her to agree, but a carving pain still moved through my chest. I nodded my understanding and then pressed my hand to the earth at her feet. “I’ll try.”
My power dove through the soil. Through the blight and old roots. Just as it had been when I’d healed Imogen, a cold, draining sensation overtook me, as if a slow frost crept through my flesh. I bent with concentrated effort, swaying as my energy drained further.
Imogen reached for my shoulders to steady me. “Theo?”
My vision threatened to dim as a bright green sprout broke through the dry earth. It grew quickly, stem stretching, leaves broadening, and then a deep-purple bloom cracked open and unfurled. A wildflower.
I met her honeyed eyes. “The land is very sick.”
She nodded as the gentle rainfall gathered and rolled down her cheeks like tears.
