Page 52

“What’s wrong?” Worry laced the words. “Reuben said this morning your ankle is nearly healed and that there shouldn’t be any long-lasting effects.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “My leg is just numb.”

I twisted my hands into his sweater. I was a half second away from having an entire freak-out the likes of which hadn’t happened since I was a preteen.

“What?” This time it was incredulity instead of worry.

“They’ve been freezing since the snow started.” I pointed to the parts of my thighs that were soaked through. “And I don’t know how to adjust everything so my hips don’t keep going numb when we ride for hours at a time.”

There was a long silence while he stood motionless in front of me. Worry clogged my throat, making my skin itch. I knew I sounded petulant and childish, but I was cold and miserable and just wanted to curl up in a ball and dissociate for a day or two. After an endless moment, he slid a finger under my chin and urged me to look up at him. The liquid feel of his eyes was gone, the gold hue flat. A frown tugged at his scars.

“Amaria said you were reacting to being without my scent,” he said, confusion in the words. “Why didn’t you say anything about being cold?”

Why in the world would a lack of his scent drive me to be such an emotional wreck? The confusion burned under my sternum. I hated feeling so weak and helpless. My frustrated indignation cut through my common sense that urged me to be tactful.

“Would it have actually made you stop?” The question was bitter and angry, full of distrust.

He clenched his teeth, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he let his hand fall away. Part of me wanted to cry out at the loss, but I strangled that piece until I couldn’t hear it anymore.

“I am not a monster,” he said, low and scathing.

“So polite, good-natured men are perfectly fine having kidnapped women dumped into a religious rite to find good little spouses?”

His eyes flashed, the emotion one I couldn’t quite name, and his lip curled. One of the women gasped behind Callum. All at once, I felt like a rabbit stuck in a snare staring down death. I swallowed and tried to backtrack.

“S-sorry,” I whispered. “That was⁠—”

Callum cut me off, his voice a dangerous thing that sent a shiver down my spine. “What in the goddess do you mean kidnapped?”

My heart beat so loud I could hear it in my ears.

“Amethyst,” he said, his voice gentler than before, though the thread of violence still wound its way around my name. Then he dropped into those syllables that didn’t translate.

“I-I don’t understand when you talk like that,” I admitted through my entire body trembling with the cold.

His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. And then he was walking away from me, his hands running through his hair, pulling on the ends. He said something in that language again, the words more broken than anything I’d heard before. It was Vincent who came up beside me, moving before either of the women. His hand was gentle where he looped his fingers around my wrist, but his eyes were on Callum.

“You’re not understanding when we speak Nyndrec?” he asked.

“Nyn… Nyndrec?” My voice shook with panic and cold.

Vincent dropped into those long, flowing syllables. I quickly shook my head. His lips tightened, pulling flat. The ground under my feet rumbled, and Vincent cursed viciously. He dropped my hand and crossed to where Callum stood, still facing toward the forest around us, his hands now shaking.

“Callum, breathe,” Vincent said, harsher than I’d heard before. “You need to recenter before you lose control of your magic completely. You’ll regret it the moment you calm down. You know you will.”

He bit back something, and Vincent chuckled. How was he laughing right now? Amaria came up beside me, and I flinched as she circled my wrist.

“Why do you do that?” I asked.

Apparently all of my filters were gone now.

She frowned and tilted her head. “It... can mean lots of different things. Mostly it’s how we give comfort. And it’s how we greet those considered close to us, a hello and sometimes a goodbye, too.”

I glanced down at my wrist as she dropped her touch. So it was like a hug after all.

“You did not consent to join the Rite?” Shelby asked from just behind Amaria’s shoulder. She had her hand on Elyssian’s flank like Callum had done. She flicked her tail but didn’t stomp like with Vincent.

“When I woke up, they just started… doing things to us. A guy laid this.” I pointed to the translation tattoo. “And then a woman named Lillian got us dressed the next day and brought us to a camp like yours but… smaller. No one asked us anything.”