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“I doubt ghostly prophets stock the kitchen,” Flint said, amusement lingering just below the surface. Macey didn’t turn to look at him. If she did, she’d probably see the smirk that was surely on Jared’s face, and then she’d melt. And forget to be mad at him. Come to think of it, she was kind of melting a little already. Damn incubus.
“How would you know? Are you a ghostly prophet? He loves waffles.”
“I find it highly unlikely that he makes them himself.” Flint’s voice cracked, and Macey almost stifled the giggle she’d been suppressing.
“Ah, so you’re not too mad at me then, little kelpie.” Her giggle ended, and something very different to amusement flooded through her. Especially as Jared’s voice sounded closer than it had before. A lot closer.
Strong arms circled her, and without meaning to, she leaned back into him, enjoying the closeness.
“No, I suppose not,” she grumbled.
“I really didn’t know what was happening, I swear it.” She twisted her head to the left so that she was looking at him, and noticed the overwhelming earnestness in his eyes.
“I know,” she half-whispered. His expression changed before her eyes as a large grin spread across his face. He leaned in and kissed her quickly, not lingering for a second. Much to her disappointment.
“I’m glad.”
“Right, now that’s sorted. Shall we?” Flint asked, waving his hand towards the Staran in front of them. Macey nodded, untangling herself from Jared’s arms, and making her way towards him. She wrapped her arms around Flint’s waist, wishing it was her legs instead. Looking up at him, she saw the soft smile on his lips. He was clearly feeling a lot better than while they’d been under water. For that she was glad.
“Ready when you are,” she said.
“Oh, I’m always ready for you.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and Macey’s skin flushed just thinking of all the things he would do. She decided she needed some alone time with him soon.
“Let’s get going
, Flame-Man.”
“I see you’ve finally arrived,” an echoey voice greeted them as Macey’s feet touched the ground, and she pulled away from Flint. While weird, at least this voice wasn’t just in her head. She’d had enough of those kinds of voices after the encounter in her bedroom and with the storm kelpies.
She turned in the direction of the voice, before stumbling back slightly in shock, narrowly avoiding falling only through the steadying hand Flint placed on her elbow. A head floated in front of them. An honest-to-the-seas head. It was a little bigger than a normal head, maybe about the size of Macey’s chest, with a long flowing beard and hair. Oh and had she mentioned the lack of body? Or the fact that it was white and ever so slightly translucent?
“Malan,” Cam acknowledged, taking a step forward.
“Camdan, good to see you again.”
“Again?” Cam frowned, and Macey wanted to take a step towards him and offer support. But that meant going closer to the head. No, Malan, she shouldn’t keep thinking about him as just a head. That would be rude when she knew his name.
“For me, yes. I watch all of the new Wardens. Macey, Flint, Jared,” he acknowledged them one by one with a nod. Which was impressive in the circumstances.
“New?” Macey squeaked.
“Well, yes. You didn’t think you were the first Wardens, did you?”
“I’m not even sure I’m any Warden,” she muttered.
“Oh, you are, little Kelpie Princess. But you’re not the first. Nor even the second. Nor will you be the last. Though I suspect you may last longer than the previous ones. Humans can be so fragile, even when blessed with eternal life.” Malan sighed wistfully, as if it was of no great importance that he’d just announced other Wardens had died.
Macey wanted to take a step back, to get as far away from the prophet as possible. But something was telling her that she needed to hear this. That, actually, even if she didn’t want to accept it, this was her fate, and she’d probably better get used to it.
“I’m not human,” Macey said defiantly, refusing to let the head-prophet see how insecure she felt in his presence. “I’m kelpie.”
“Yes, you are. The Fates have decided to mix it up a bit. Good. It was getting boring.”
She stared at him, unable to hide her disbelief. How could he be so nonchalant? He was talking about other Wardens dying, for waves’ sake.
Malan sighed. “If you’d seen as many people pass through my doors only to die a few decades later as I have, you’d be the same, little kelpie. Now ask your questions, chop chop. And no, Jared, I don’t have waffles.”
The big question Macey wanted to ask was ‘what happened to the rest of your body’, but she’d been raised to be more polite than that.
