“I am happy about that.”
She glanced around the tavern as the people went about their business as though nothing had changed. The large man at the bar continued to drink his ale. The ranger returned to his seat at the back, hood up, smoking a pipe, as though he hadn’t pledged his life to protect hers.
“But?” Roderick asked, his voice gentle.
She inhaled a deep breath, expelled it. “It’s just that I can’t shake the feeling she’s watching through her mirror.”
“If she is, then she knows we are coming for her.” He released her hand and went back to buttering his waffle, then poured a heaping portion of honey on top of it.
“Doesn’t that ruin the element of surprise?” she asked.
He sliced a corner of the waffle and stabbed it with his fork. “She has to know we’re coming for her.”
“We?” Snow lifted a brow.
He dropped his voice. “She sent me to kill you. I didn’t. She knows that. She’s also intelligent enough to realize that if you’re not dead, you’re still a threat to her.”
Her stomach twisted into a knot as a sick feeling erupted through her. “I think this was a mistake.”
He dropped his fork and pinned her with his bright gaze. “No, Snow. You’re doing the right thing.”
“But—”
“Sometimes the right thing is the hardest thing,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “When we finish breakfast, we will ride out to the next village.”
“Which one is that?” she asked.
“Lighthill. But I must warn you. Things are much different there than here.”
She pushed food around on her plate, watching as he dove into his with alacrity. “How different?”
He stuck a bit of waffle in his mouth, chewed, swallowed. “Different,” was his only response.
She didn’t like the sound of that one bit. As she poked her waffle with a fork, the door to the tavern burst open with a loud thud.
“The Wyldwood Forest is on fire!” a man shouted.
Her heart leapt to her throat as she jumped up from her seat, her chair scraping along the wood floor and then tipping over. Patrons spilled out of the tavern into the street, but Snow was faster. She moved past them all. As soon as she was outside, she saw the dark plume of smoke in the distance curling upward into the bright blue sky.
She sucked in a shuddering breath, as she thought of the elven village, Faradill and Annilen, and all the other creatures inhabiting the forest. She closed her eyes and opened her senses to nature, reaching out to the forest.
The fire was large and raging, burning through trees. She cried out with the pain she felt from them. Her mind raced to find Faradill. Thankfully, he still stood and was out of the fire’s path. However, the elven village did not fare so well.
“Snow?” Roderick’s tentative voice at her side broke through her thoughts.
“The elven village.” Her breath hitched, then her eyes flew open as she spun to face him, gripping him by the arm. “You have to do something!”
“Me?” He blinked.
“You are an Artificer. You have the power of all the elements. The power of water.”
Understanding dawned. “But I’ve never used the power of water.”
“Me, either, so we’ll have to try together.” She gripped his hand in hers and closed her eyes again. “The Sea of Mara is the closest water source. Envision it. Close your eyes.”
“I’ve never been there—”
“The coastline is rocky,” she interrupted. “With pale blue sand. The waves crash against the rocks. When the sand is wet from the undulating surf, it turns a deep blue. Can you see it?”
