Two familiar figures.
I don’t know quite what to do with myself. My heart hammers in my throat as I make a mad scramble behind a tree, hoping that either the trunk hides me or that neither of them will pay attention to the weirdo in a hooded cloak in the blazing sunshine.
Holding myself as still as possible when the world still feels like it’s spinning and tilting around me, I grip the tree trunk to keep me from toppling over as I wait for them to pass by.
“The city really is best at this time of year. I must come more often.”
My eyes close involuntarily at Jack’s voice. My friend, my brother’s crewmate. While I might not be as close to him as I am with Finch or even Torin, he’s still been with Finch for a long time now.
And I have no idea what he’s doing here.
‘What did you do?’
Those same words have been haunting me from the moment I came to inside the crypt house. The trouble is, I can’t quite place them or who said them.
“Mother is arriving tomorrow. You’ll want to pick up a new suit before she arrives.” That’s Jack’s brother. Another voice that seems to be seared into my soul, even if it slips out of my memory like sifting sand. He was inside the house, I’m sure of it.
Miles was there on the island. I’m sure of it. I can picture him standing on the causeway while a cold wind blows in my face. His beady eyes bore into mine, and everything in me freezes, trapped in place by a venomous predator about to strike.
But why can’t I remember why he was there or what he said to me? I wrack my brain to recall anything else, any other detailthat I can latch onto to try to work out what happened to me or how I ended up here.
But I come up empty.
The two of them pass by, and it’s only once they’re midway up the street that I can finally take a full breath. I keep my chin down, eyes up as I watch them sauntering along the street. When they pause outside the house I just emerged from, my gut twists.
I spin around, stumbling along faster so that I don’t have to witness what happens when either of them touches the cursed door. The intersecting street at the far end is crowded, busy with people milling about with singular focus. Perfect. It’s exactly what I need to disappear into the crowd.
The pavements are grey stone and the buildings are also a dull grey, shops and other businesses alike. Wagons, pulled by a mixture of horses and bigger beasts, are clogging up the middle of the street. It’s been a long time since I was last here, but I know exactly where I am. Somehow I’ve wound up bang in the middle of Ashwick, at least a three-day hard sail from the sanctuary of our mouldering mansion.
How did I get here? And, more importantly, how much time have I lost?
There’s an odd tightness in my chest. Judging by the sluggishness of my thoughts and the dry yet tacky inside of my mouth, I’m guessing it’s been a while since I last ate or drank anything. I rub at the spot between my ribs and have a shock when it feels like the tightness bites back, snapping at my fingers like my own body is trying to attack.
I really must be losing it.
The feeling morphs into one of warmth and... concern? Almost like that bundle of something inside my chest is reacting to me prodding at it. Another surge of pure worry hits me, but it’s strangely disconnected, almost like it’s a feeling happening to someone else.
That’s the moment that I realise exactly what it is I’m feeling. It’s the mate bond with Reva, the one we thought we’d lost forever. I’m not feeling my own emotions. Instead, I’m feeling a tiny trickle of those coming from Reva.
Concern. Frustration. A heady dose of relief. All chased by this undiluted affection that cuts me off at my knees, nearly sending me rolling into the path of a wagon pulled by an ox that snorts in frustration.
Fuck. I’m a little shaky from the mix of sensations and the love that she’s pumping out at me. Like she knows that I’m here somewhere. She sees me.
And she loves me.
Holy fuck. I might start bawling again.
Then the ox beside me snorts again, stomping one foot in a clear display of frustration.
“Don’t judge me, man,” I mutter as I swipe at my leaky eyeballs.
It snorts again, and I let out a wet chuckle. But when I look at it properly, I spot the wounds where the harness connects with its flesh and the scarred flesh all around it. There’s also something off about the way it's looking at me. Something about the look in its eyes has me pausing and cocking my head to one side. It has a metal bit around its mouth, connected to a thick collar around its neck, and I take an involuntary step closer. I wish I had Jack’s spectacles on me, the ones that show you magic and spells. But perhaps I don’t need them.
I don’t know how, but I can sense magic around the thick clasp at the base of their neck. Reaching out slowly, the ox snaps its teeth at me, and my fingertips tingle as awareness itches the back of my mind.
“That’s not very nice, is it?” I say. “Look, buddy, I’m trying to help you. I’m going to try to get that shitty collar off you, all right?”
At my words, the ox freezes in place as though it understands exactly what I’m saying. It then takes a couple of hesitant steps forward before charging toward a nearby alleyway. I grab the harness that’s attached to its back, glancing around at the bustling street. Thankfully, there’s an alleyway nearby and absolutely no one is paying attention to either the ox or the hooded guy it’s dragging along.
