Despite my call of assurance, they had kept coming. As though I had not spoken.
I frowned. Perhaps I had not—from their perspective.
“Your shadows,” I spoke to Velra over my shoulder. “They can see through the illusion you are creating, but they cannot feel or hear.”
She pulled them back in the next moment, but then in my peripheral vision I saw her hastily shrugging off Lazriel’s hoodie.
“Drop the wall for a moment,” she told me.
I wouldn’t risk that.
Not after almost losing her.
Instead, I thrust the hoodie through the wall without compromising it, and tossed it into the distance, deep into the forest a hundred feet away at the very least.
Moments passed, and then the arrows ceased.
The forest fell still once more.
And then I saw movement.
Somebody emerged from the heavy concealment of the trees clad in an overhanging brown and deep green hooded cloak that blended in exceptionally well with our surroundings.
Lazriel’s hoodie hung from one hand.
In the other was a glowing white bow, a quiver full of more arrows hanging off their shoulder.
“You are with him,” a forthright female voice rumbled, projecting all the way to us rather impressively, using not just voice, but the growl of a wolf to carry it. “You are with my boy.”
She held up the hoodie. “Now you have dropped your concealment fully, there’s not just this—which he wouldn’t give just to anyone—I can scent him all over both of you. Beyond skin deep.”
In the next moment, she pulled back her hood, revealing rich, dark hair that fell in waves around her shoulders, framing a face marked by both strength and pain, lines etched into her skin that signified the hard years she’d lived. Her amber eyes were alert and calculating, as she regarded us.
Rhyza Thaine.
Former Alpha wolf.
One exceedingly difficult being to find.
And, most importantly per our mission, Lazriel’s mother.
A smile graced her lips. “Come on then. It seems we have a lot to talk about.”
I could already seethe similarities between Rhyza and her son.
Instead of offering tea or some sort of light beverage for refreshment as I’d come to learn was customary and polite on this plane, she’d offered whiskey.
Given that I didn’t care for it and Velra didn’t drink, she’d gotten refusals on both counts. That hadn’t stopped her, however. She’d merely stepped inside the house to discard her camouflage robe, and to retrieve a full bottle of whiskey, and then she’d led us back outside. We hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of the interior of the home from the entranceway where she’d had us wait. It hadn’t been visible from that vantage point.
Although, while we’d briefly been standing there, I had seen a pair of motorcycle boots and muddied rain boots that were Lazriel’s size, along with a hefty winter coat. When she’d seen me looking, she’d explained that he wore it when suffering from one of hisfreezing cold phases.
She took several sips from the bottle as she led us to the rear of the sturdy, timber-framed lodge.
“He doesn’t experience that anymore,” Velra spoke.
“What’s that?” Rhyza asked over her shoulder.
“Those blistering hot and then freezing cold episodes. Sylas found a solution that gives Lazriel equilibrium.”
