“Gabriel.” Luc stands. “You can verbally spar with Sol later. As for now, you must take her to the Seer.”
I dig my nails into my left palm, jabbing my skin instead of the man I have trapped myself with.
For Mother.
Always for Mother.
Wood digs into the dirt-packed floor as Gabriel stands and jerks his chin toward the door. “Come with me, Kyanite.”
“Sol,” I say.
ChapterNine
The Seer, a young woman with hair-streaked golden from the sun and a distinctive shell-shaped birthmark on her neck, settles vibrant blue eyes on me. They look through me, wrap around me, probe into all those places I hide my fire. My heart pounds against my ribs, but I remain outwardly calm. It’s all I have right now. Calm.
“Sol, of Tarrobane,” she whispers in a velvety tone.
Of Tarrobane? We may all live in the Tarrobane territory, but it doesn’t make us the same.
“I’m Sol of the Kyanite tribe.”
“So, I see.” She turns to the man sitting next to me. “You have chosen wisely, Gabriel. Sol is your path.”
It takes everything in me to remain in the chair, to not run for the door, or scoot away from Gabriel. The Seer placed the chairs so close, my shoulder brushes his. His heat burns through my thin surcoat, sparking my bitterness, my hatred.
Gabriel doesn’t speak. Deep down, a part of me hopes he will, and when he does, he will call off everything. Maybe I could actually walk away. Return to Father. Maybe he would accept me back with open arms.
But that is all a dream. Gabriel will never relent, and I can never return to Father or Kyanite land.
The Seer lays her hands on the table, palms facing up. “Take my hands, Sol of Tarrobane.”
Needing this woman’s approval, I follow her command.
She pauses for a long, uncomfortable moment. “If you succeed in your quest, you will lose everything.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I only want to serve the Bloodstone people.”
“Your heart is part fire and part ice. You are stricken with grief, loss, torment, ineptness.”
“I mourn those I have lost.” The truth scalds my tongue. But I cannot wish them unsaid. This Seer can’t see my lies if truth borders them. “My mother...”
“You witnessed her death,” the Seer says, her words soft, direct. “And after she was buried…” gently, she touches the serpent-shaped mark on my arm, “…the gods left this and scorched your soul.”
“Yes,” I say, my voice oddly strangled. Usually, I talk about Mother without losing control. Yet, here in front of this Seer, Iamvulnerable.
“You have lost a lot.” The Seer continues prodding at my defenses. “But you need to be wary of the path charred black with vengeance. It always leads to death.”
“I only wish to serve,” I say, repeating the words I said earlier.
A half smile touches her mouth. “Do you know what I am?”
“A Seer.”
“Yes, of the Tarrobane. So, do not lie to me, Sol. Not when I see through you as if you’re made of sheer fabric.”
She’s not a Bloodstone Seer. She cannot be. They have no magic.
Then, why is she helping them? They’re cursed, banned from using magic, yet she aids them.
