An ember sparks in my chest as I glance at Wren. She has been through so much, this gods-blessed who changed my life, and she ismine.
Alaric directs Wren and me to a small bench near the fire before he steps back, falling in line with the others who entered behind us. The bench is close to the wall, and I tug Wren to sit next to me. Even though I’d like nothing more than to be back to my old self, the time I spent in that dark, empty space is taking its toll on me.
Letting my muscles rest, I survey the room. It comes to me as easily as breathing—as a Hunter I was always paying attention, always looking for the next threat. Even though I broke my vows, that part of me hasn’t been erased.
Two dozen rebels are present, and all of them are armed save for the seer. A few of them glance at us warily, but for the most part, they seem to have accepted our presence.
Touches of life, reminders that there are people other than soldiers here, decorate the hall. An abandoned stuffed bear lies forgotten under a bench near the back of the room. A blue blanket sits on the edge of a table, haphazardly folded. A cup teeters precariously on the lip of a bench near the back door.
It’s clear that this space is well used, and something about that helps me relax a bit. Not entirely, though. I’ll never fully let my guard down, not while my father is searching for Wren.
Several minutes pass before the sound of a book closing echoes through the otherwise silent hall. Fabric rustles, and a cane smacks rhythmically against the floor.
I look up, slightly angling myself in front of Wren as the seer makes her way towards us. She moves with slow, methodical purpose, claiming the bench across from us.
Alaric and two others I don’t recognize form a loose line behind the elderly woman, clasping their arms behind their backs and settling into a relaxed stance every soldier I’ve ever encountered seems to know.
The seer directs her gaze to me, heavy and weighted. Wrinkles decorate her aged face, a testament to what she’s endured in life. She may be old, but her very presence commands respect.
King Andreas would despise her, perhaps even more than he would Wren. In the same way I always trust my gut because it’s never been wrong, I know that even if this woman weren’t Marked, she’d never be welcomed in the king’s court.
And that, more than anything else in this room, makes me feel at ease.
“Hello,” the seer says after a few minutes, breaking my stare to look at Wren and place a hand over her heart. “The circumstances of our last meeting were a little tense. I’m glad to meet you under better conditions now that my people have... adjusted to your presence.”
That is a rather diplomatic way to refer to how they kept us at a step above prisoners. Still, I won’t begrudge them for that treatment since they kept Wren out of the king’s hands, which is why I brought her here.
“It’s nice to meet you again,” Wren says. “Your people have been very kind to take care of us both, especially with Gabriel’s illness.”
“Yes. The Hunter.” The seer’s gaze returns to mine. “I heard you fought valiantly with my people.”
“Yes, ma’am. I vowed to protect Wren, and that’s what I did.”
“Your fated.”
My chest warms, and that thread inside me thrums, a presence refusing to be ignored.
The seer’s Mark burns brighter. Violet light washes over us as she studies Wren’s and my joined hands. “There is much I’d like to discuss with you, but first, I’d like to perform a reading.”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“It won’t take long, but it will show me what you know.” She looks at Wren’s Mark and frowns. “Or rather, what you don’t. The number of lies you’ve been told, the web of falsehoods that still need to be unraveled.”
“All the fucking lies,” Wren mumbles, her hand tightening around mine.
“Exactly.” The seer nods.
Wren rolls her bottom lip through her teeth. “Is the reading safe?”
A moment’s pause. “It will not cause permanent harm.”
Evelyn’s clever wording has me sitting up straighter, and I exchange a glance with Wren.
“But it might hurt,” my gods-blessed clarifies.
“It could, but it won’t last, and it’s not real,” Evelyn says.
Not exactly words of reassurance.
