“Release me,” she said in a low voice. My chest tightened, and I dragged in a sharp breath, willing my shadows to ease their hold on her wrists. Slowly, deliberately, they unraveled, melting back into the darkness until her arms were free.
I shook away the sense of loss and stepped back.
Her hands fell to her sides, but she did not move away. She stayed there, pressed between me and the tree, golden eyes locked on mine. I should have stepped back. I didn’t.
Instead, I let myself feel it—just for a moment. The dangerous nearness, the heat rolling off her, the maddening urge to touch what I knew I could never claim.
Then the clouds drifted across the sky, and the sun rose in the east, casting a weak, pale sunlight, but light nonetheless. I cursed, my voice floating on the wind as my form turned fully incorporeal.
“Go down there,” I said desperately, hoping to convince her. “See with eyes that are not clouded by ritual and rank. Speak to those who have been ignored.”
“I will go find the answers we seek,” Elena said, her voice calm now. “And I will return in two days.”
Without a backward glance, she stepped away, moving to thevillage beyond the forest, and the wards that kept me trapped.
Would she be back? Could I trust her?
Only time would tell.
Chapter 9: Elena
As dawn broke, Dario melted back into the shadows of his forest, but the echo of his voice remained.
Go down there.
I did.
Each step closer sharpened an old, guilty memory: the Elders in their mahogany chairs, the way Kathar smiled too easily when I questioned relief shipments, the way plans could be folded like maps and filed away. I had asked then and been told to trust them, to leave administrative cares to those trained for them.
Even before the lane bent to reveal the first houses, I could taste the drought—metallic on the tongue, thick as unboiled tea.
A woman stood outside a house with a broom, watching the sun rise with tired eyes. Her gaze found me when I passed.
“High Priestess,” she said. She had not the strength even to bring her hands together for blessing. Her son sat beside her, ribs too visible.
My heart clenched. I stepped forward without thinking and laid my palm on his forehead. Heat flared from somewhere deep, the old connected magic answering in faint throbs. The boy’s skin warmed by a fraction, the fever receding from his face.
My throat closed. “We collected relief grain,” I said aloud even though I knew it was futile to ask her. “Why was it not sent here?”
The woman shrugged. “They’ve sent all they can, they say. The roads are dangerous. The caravans were raided. Trade has faltered.”
The words nearly sent me staggering back. This village hadbeen fed a lie: trade with our neighboring countries was better than before.
The Elders had lied; they had offered no help to this village.
I moved deeper into the village, my heart sinking further with each step.
The house which had been marked by the mage was still dark, like many others in the village. Even to my eyes, the sigil glowed only faintly, giving off a little shimmer in the rising sun.
To the villagers, it would be completely invisible.
Who lived inside? Why were they of interest to a mage?
And why was he wearing the robes of the Temple?
“Water?”
I turned, startled.
