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If it wasn’t for her, I would probably have lost control and hurt someone by now.
After I’d rushed from Leca’s home with a spear in my hand and a horned wolf at my heels, I’d been ready to slaughter anyone who got in my way of Runa.
The sun had blinded me as I’d slammed to a stop and glowered at the multiple dwellings. Some larger than others, some adorned with ropes of handmade decoration with animal bones, beads, and feathers.
Runa had spoken of the Fire Reader as one of the most important members of this clan. Therefore, his lupic had to be one of the best.
With my heart winging and Zetas snarling beside me, I’d dashed past younglings playing in the trodden dirt with different-sized sticks and river pebbles, and ran toward the largest lupic at the head of the camp.
But then the large man who’d led his people across the grass seas to take what was mine appeared. He blocked my path, stepping out of the lupic with his meaty hand wrapped around a carved staff. His body was clean and black hair freshly braided over his shoulders, but his eyes couldn’t hide his weariness.
“I’m relieved to see you survived,” the man said coolly, looking me up and down, his attention lingering on my jaw and temple. His gaze widened when he found no wounds. No swelling or discolouration.
I let him assess me while Zetas bared her teeth. “Take me to her. Now.”
The man shook his head, looking to his left as a tall, strong woman slipped out of the lupic and stood beside him. Crossing her arms over the bison fur wrapped around her chest, she muttered, “Before you do something stupid, allow me to tell you how a fight within our home would go.” Arching her chin at something behind me, her lips thinned with authority. “Look.”
With my hand fisted around the stolen spear, I looked over my shoulder.
I stiffened at the swarm of hunters who’d crowded behind me. Males and females, young and old, all armed with steely determination on their sun-weathered faces.
“Runa is safe. You have our word,” the woman said, wrenching my attention back to her and the silver threads in her black hair. “She walks in the flames. She is chosen and protected, and she’s the only one who can bring our Spirit Master back.” Her hands balled as her tone turned icy. “She cannot be disturbed. The fire will let her go only when she’s ready to be freed. If you try to wake her, you will cause irreparable harm to her and to Solin. If you try to fight us, you might kill some of our family but one of us will kill you in return. If you set your wolf on us, we will put her down with a blade to her belly before she can hurt our younglings.” Her eyes glowed with deathly promise. “Do you understand?”
I looked from the woman to her mate and back again. My jaw clenched. “Just let me see her. That’s all I ask. I need to see for myself that she’s—”
“You can’t,” the chief interrupted, his dark eyes glinting with challenge. “I’ve kept my side of the bargain not to harm you. And I will continue to do so, as long as you don’t give me reason to regret that choice.”
My shadows feathered out, creeping toward every hunter behind me. Power fed into every darkened tendril, full of the same warning the chief had given me.
I hadn’t asked for this.
I hadn’t asked to be taken away from Salak or wake without Runa by my side.
I was surrounded by mortals who blindly worshipped an element that could hurt so easily, so callously—an element that’d tried to kill me for stepping into its embers—and refused to let me near Runa.
“I just want to see her,” I growled. “I need to see her.”
Anger built, growing hotter, churning in my shadows.
“Tral...” the woman muttered under her breath. “Look.” Her eyes locked on my shadows as they thickened and twined, licking around the ankles of every male and female who stood too close, fogging over their weapons, mocking their belief that they could hurt me before I could hurt them.
As my shades touched their skin, I tasted their fear and determination. I felt their loyalty toward their leaders and love toward their clan; their confusion over Kivva’s death and the sharp flavour of their hate. The novelty of sensing who they were at their core made my power quake and quiver, building with strength that robbed me of breath.
I didn’t just touch them.
I touched their spirit.
I stroked each one with a simple shadow.
And all it would take was a choice.
A single decision to swipe them off their feet, snatch their spears, blades, and staffs, and drive a bolt of night through their hearts.
