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Poppy briefly closed her eyes, and then she picked up Airrick’s pale hand. Her brow furrowed even more as she pressed the young guard’s trembling hand between hers. She seemed solely focused on the young man, the skin at the corners of her mouth taut—
Something happened.
Airrick stopped trembling. The pain eased from his features. At first, I thought he’d passed, but the man still lived. And he was looking at Poppy again with those wide, awed-filled eyes.
“I don’t…hurt anymore,” he whispered.
“You don’t?” She smiled at him, her hands still wrapped around his.
“No.” Airrick’s head relaxed against the cold ground. “I know I’m not, but I feel…I feel good.”
“I’m relieved to hear that,” Poppy said as a look of peace settled into Airrick’s face.
I started to frown. What in the hell was going on here? I glanced at Airrick’s nasty wound. The man’s guts were half-strewn across his legs. This wasn’t a peaceful death.
“I know you,” Airrick spoke, his breaths slowing, his words no longer thick and garbled with pain. “Didn’t think…I should say anything, but we’ve met.” More blood leaked out of his mouth. “We played cards.”
Her smile spread. “Yes, we did.”
They’d played cards? Had it been when she snuck into the Red Pearl? Or another time when she was somewhere she shouldn’t be? Not that any of that mattered. What was going on with Airrick right now did.
The man clearly felt no pain. Not only that, he looked relaxed and at peace.
“It’s…your eyes,” Airrick said. “You were losing.”
My heart started to pound. A lock of hair had fallen forward, brushing the tip of her nose. What in the fuck was going on here?
“I was.” Poppy leaned over him. “Normally, I’m better at cards. My brother taught me, but I kept being dealt bad hands.”
Airrick laughed—the man whose insides were exposed, laughed. “Yeah…they were bad hands. Thank…” His gaze shifted beyond Poppy, his bloodied lips spreading in a trembling smile. “Momma?”
Airrick took a breath. A moment passed. Another. I stared at Poppy as she lowered his hand to his chest, unable to believe what I had just seen.
She was born in a shroud.
My heart was still pounding as Poppy looked up. “You did something to him.”
“It’s true,” Phillips rasped, the seasoned guard clearly shaken. “The rumors. I heard it, but I didn’t believe it. Gods. You have the touch.”
THREE RIVERS
You have the touch.
Phillips’ words kept cycling over and over as I stalked past Noah’s horse. We’d found the steed a few hours after leaving the Blood Forest, grazing in a meadow without a care in the realm. We’d ridden hard, reaching the outskirts of Three Rivers at dusk with plans to take a few hours to rest and then ride the remainder of the way to New Haven.
Nearing the cluster of trees, I looked back to where Poppy sat near a fire, eating a supper of cured meat and cheese—mostly cheese, from what I’d noticed. We were on high ground with only a few scattered pines and a clear view in every direction. A small fire to beat back the chill was safe, but I didn’t wander far. Phillips was beside her, and although he hadn’t mentioned what we’d witnessed with Airrick, he kept looking at her in wonder.
And why wouldn’t he?
Phillips had witnessed Poppy—the godsdamn Chosen—ease a dying man’s grave and painful wounds with her touch.
Fuck, I was filled with awe and a little disbelief.
She’s Chosen, born in a shroud.
Gods.
I looked for Kieran. We hadn’t had a chance to talk until now. Luckily, he hadn’t gone far.
He appeared in the trees, the collar of his tunic damp from the stream he must’ve used to wash the blood away.
“Did you see what happened back in the Blood Forest?” I didn’t waste time.
“I heard Phillips saying some weird stuff about a touch.” He stopped in front of me. “But I didn’t see what was going on.”
“Remember what you said about the shroud?” I kept my eyes on Poppy as my thoughts ran a hundred miles a minute. They’d been like that for the last couple of hours. “That it wasn’t impossible for a mortal to be born in one? Well, I think that part about Poppy is true.”
“Poppy?” Kieran repeated.
“That’s what she—it doesn’t matter. It’s just a nickname,” I said. “Have you actually heard of a mortal being born in one?”
“Not that I can recall at the moment,” he answered, eyeing me closely. “Doesn’t mean one hasn’t been at some point.” His head tilted. “What happened back there?”
Brows raised, I shook my head. “She eased his pain with her touch—and I’m one hundred percent sure that’s what happened.”
“That’s not—”
“Possible,” I cut in. “I know. She’s mortal.” My heart fucking skipped as I looked at him. “Unless she’s not.”
“Half-Atlantian? I’m not even sure that would explain these abilities—this kind of gift,” Kieran argued. “The bloodline of Atlantians capable of such died out ages ago. And, yeah, sometimes certain abilities skip a generation or two, but that is a hell of a lot to skip.”
