Page 31 of The Silver Ones


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“Ronan,” Gally stated. “Jackson lost his left eye and struggles to speak at the moment.” Gally gestured to her lips and swiped her index finger along her cheek. “His mouth is torn. It will heal, but with a scar.”

Rem stood taller, a surprising surge of joy spreading in her twisted heart at observing the suffering of another. Especially since she hadn’t expected Ronan to brutalize the Callon so greatly. “Why so much damage?”

“Because my brother is an idiot and forgot that you’re a Silver and a guest of Warden. You’re still human, and Silvers are still seen as gifts from our goddess… I don’t feel sorry for him, though. He should have checked in with Fiona before offering up corporeal punishment. No Alpha worth his fur would be alright with what happened to you. If Jackson wasn’t already known to be so hotheaded, Ronan might have looked deeper into it. But he believes it was just Jackson being Jackson.”

Rem’s smile faded as Ronan had beensoclose, and yet his hesitation to look deeper was like swimming all the way to the surface, only to find an impenetrable ice sheet over it. Some part of her registered that the Alpha had defended her, but confusion only bound these revelations together.

Who could she seriously trust in all of this? Did Ronan do it out of obligation? Because he is kind? Or because he hates the Callons?

She didn’t linger her gaze for long, looking down at the ground when her gaze connected with Fiona’s, the Elder Witch’s eyes completely lacking any warmth.

Jackson didn't bother to address Rem, sneering at her with his one good, blood-shot eye as he gave her his back. Fiona turned with him as well.

Rem didn’t immediately follow, as everything about this was suspicious. Rem’s eyes widened when a thought came to her. “Are they going to hurt Oliver? For revenge? Is that why Fiona is allowing this?”

Gally scanned Rem’s face, a surprisingly gentle expression in her gaze. “No. I…” Gally looked away, shaking her head, “Nevermind. But no, they won’t punish Oliver. Fiona believes Jackson earned it.”

Despite how much Rem wanted to grab Gally and shake her until all the answers and truth fell out, she let it go, not wanting to make a scene that might make this all worse.

Taking a step forward to follow them all, Rem felt nauseous, her palms clamming. Pressing on was necessary for Oliver. Surely, he was just as afraid. Maybe drawing a map would provide a creative solution, something she could present to Nia or the Alpha.

Rem numbed the fear in her heart for the sake of her family.

7

FAMILY

R E M

Gally,Jackson, Fiona, and a few Gammas escorted Rem to the human village of Thomasville, which took nearly an hour of walking on gray stone. Her uncle had been a stonemason back in Ashmire, and she knew laying this was meticulous labor.

Was this what her gran saw in the human cities where the hunters lived? Rem gently smiled, thinking of the old woman that would forever inspire her. Her gran rarely gave her opinion about shifters.

And here Rem was, deep within their territory.

She hoped to go home one day, to tell her mother and father about this. About how humanslivedamong the shifters—like in Thomasville—which housed the humans who made clothes and materials for the shifters of the Warden, along with any foods, mead, and goods… Including stone, iron, and woodworking.

She frowned, as to tell her parents of this meant telling them of everything else, like how she was being coerced into a game of selling her body to save Oliver, how one of them had attacked her. Rem’s stomach constricted. What if she was mated by the next time she saw her family or carrying their offspring?

Focus. Focus on Oliver.

The surrounding terrain didn't change much as they walked, the trees enveloping them. The road broke off into other paths every now and then, and they even crossed three rivers over intricate bridges, with the largest being a quarter mile wide. A few groups of humans eyed them carefully, most maintaining the stone and cleaning where horses dropped their dung. Carriages appeared in more frequency as they neared, carrying goods and harvests.

One of the humans, a middle-aged man wearing brown clothes, kept glancing at Rem as he passed them.

Gally looked at her as well. “Tuck your hair in.”

Rem glanced down to see a strand of silver had escaped the cloak she wore.

Jackson faced the human, in a demeanor similar to the one when he attacked Rem. A residual fear made her throat tighten, ready to run this time.

That disappointed her. She didn’t like him having such control over her emotions.

But Jackson did not attack the human, rather leaning in and threatening, “Is she your business?”

“No,” the man croaked, looking down.

“I know your scent. Keep your lips sealed, or I will find you,” Jackson said with derision.