Page 226 of The Edge of Darkness

She looked up from where she sat, shoving her feet into her boots. “I wanted to stay because I still had unfinished business.”

“You mean me,” I corrected her, tossing a wink.

“Gods, what have I gotten myself into?” she muttered. Her foot slammed into place, and she side-eyed me as she laced it up. “Just don’t say anything to Torin. Let me do the talking.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.”

“Nightmare indeed,” she murmured, fighting a grin.

Apparently, there were certain beings Nivelle did not allow into her home.

Deities fell into that category.

Nivelle stood in the center of a stone circle, amidst the trees, while I watched from the perch of a lowly, twisted tree branch. She’d pointed to the low-lying branch when we arrived, and I knew what she was asking before she even gave the command.

Below me, on the ground, sat a satchel of some of her belongings that she had gathered to take with us back to Calledan. One of those things, I flipped back and forth in my hand. It was a small silver token, similar to a coin, though the crudely carved markings were not any that I knew of. Nivelle said it was a prayer token that held an ancient incantation for protection—something that had been passed down in her bloodline. When I found it on the mantel of her fireplace this morning, she told me to keep it.

Since then, she had been quiet. I told myself it was in anticipation of summoning Torin. It had to be. We had left the cottage on good terms, and if my pride had anything to say about it, she was thoroughly satisfied enough to not harbor any resentment toward me.

But the day is still young.

I chuckled to myself at the thought as I flicked the token into the air and caught it. Nivelle glanced at me from over her shoulder as if to say, Shhh. Then, her eyes and markings pulsed with that strange, blue light as she dropped to one knee and began the summoning.

The atmosphere tensed. If this illusion of a forest could breathe, it was holding its breath at what was coming. Mist flooded through the trees like a rolling tide, and I watched as it encompassed the bag that sat below me until it was no longer visible.

The eerie fog enveloped Nivelle’s legs. A few slivers curled up around her face as if to touch her cheek, like a mother would. She didn’t lean into the movement, nor did she shy away from it. She remained still as a statue, head bowed.

“My dearest,” a hushed voice reached from the mist. It was Torin’s otherworldly whisper, the one that came from her, yet somehow . . . didn’t.

From where I was sitting, I could still see Nivelle. I kept my eyes on her, ready to unleash my power and protect her if need be. Against a goddess, I was probably little more than rabble, especially here, where power was nearly nullified to that of a human’s nature. But Torin would know my wrath in some form or another if she tried anything against Nivelle.

Fuck, that nagging thrumming kept tightening in my chest the more I thought about it. If this was the telltale sign of mates, I knew very well what Niall was going through every time he worried about Auren. At this rate, I didn’t want to let Nivelle out of my sight.

But I couldn’t tell her that. Not yet. Making any sort of bold declaration this soon was too risky. It might set us back again. And I rather liked the way things were progressing, even if she’d basically told me to sit and stay on this branch, like a dog.

The mist stirred, but Torin remained out of sight. “Surely the time has not yet come for war,” it said.

“Things are moving swiftly,” Nivelle replied. “I have given the Dionachs their orders, as Niall has instructed. They await their summons.”

“Then why have you summoned me?”

“I have a . . . request.”

Quiet. All-consuming quiet. Then, a form took shape from the mist, and Torin stepped forth, in the flesh.

Nivelle remained steady, unmoving.

“Look at me, dear. You know I hate when you keep your eyes lowered like that.” The tone with which she spoke . . . it struck me as condescending.

I clenched the token in my fist.

Slowly, with a defiant gleam in her eyes, Nivelle lifted her head.

What did she have against this goddess?

Torin took Nivelle’s chin in her hand and lifted it, examining what she found there. Her thumb pressed against Nivelle’s bottom lip as if she was trying to wipe away the inked line that sat there. “Such a brutal mark for a delicate face.” This time, Nivelle tugged her chin free, leaving Torin’s hand hovering where it had been. “Delicate on the outside, but so much rage beneath.”

Nivelle’s face remained raised, but she flicked her eyes down again, jaw clenching so tight I could see the muscles feathering from where I sat.