We should leave, exhaustion be damned. Dieter could attack any moment. He could be close; maybe that was why he was able to slip in so easily. He’s nearby, stalking, waiting.
Heshould behere already; if he left Trier before we did, even traveling with a large group of hexenjägers, he should have gotten here. Did he not figure out where this stone was? Did he go someplace else? Was Perchta able to keep him away?
Or is he waiting to intercept us near the Well, knowing we’d find the stone, hoping we’ll bring it to him, just as he’d hoped to control me into bringing him the earth stone from the Well? Was that his attempt at manipulating me into doing his bidding again?
Cornelia sits next to me, close enough to share body heat.
We shouldn’t go back to the Well, I want to say. It’s what Dieter wants, for the stones to be with the Tree so he can destroy it. We should run, as far as possible. Brigitta should take the air stone and disappear.
Wait—that’s what she’s saying to Otto. “…leave and hide so no one knows where it is.”
“What if Dieter can track you?” Otto asks. “What then? We wanted to bring the stones to the Well to protect them from him. The Well is still the best place to defend against him, isn’t it?”
“We risk him laying an ambush in Baden-Baden or somewhere else nearby upon our return,” Brigitta says. “I don’t like it. I don’t—”
“The earth stone is in the Well. Between that and the air stone, and the defenses already in place, the Well is the safest spot for Fritz—for the stones,” Otto corrects.
I wince.
Of course he’s thinking about me. How to protect me.
Cornelia is listening too. Everyone is, except maybe Alois, who is lying back with his head pillowed on his arms, eyes shut. He can’t be asleep, despite the lines of exhaustion on his face.
As Brigitta and Otto continue to argue, Cornelia leans closer to me. I feel the weight of unspoken words before she says anything, and when she does, it takes my brain a moment to catch up to what she’s chosen to say.
“Why did you not tell me you’ve been using wild magic?”
She saw me use wild magic in the barrow.
I’m grateful, in a way, that she asked me about this now, when I am too wrung out to feel anything like guilt or shame or fear.
“It should not be hard to guess,” I say. “Priestess.”
Cornelia flinches, mildly hurt, but she nods.
After a beat of silence, she sighs. “You haven’t made a single comment about what else happened in the tomb.”
The oddity makes me look at her.
“About Alois and I being…chosen. Fated.” She pulls a face, butblushes. “You said it was the reason we were chosen, but am I truly to believe you have no opinion on that matter?”
I stare at her for another long moment, then feel myself slowly, gradually smile. It’s small and trembling, but it’s a gulp of fresh air between surges of briny waves.
Cornelia’s answering grin of relief tells me she’d hoped I’d respond like this. Distracted. Uplifted.
Even for a moment.
“Oh,” I say, and rub at my eyes. “I assumed you were too busy planning your elaborate bonding ceremony. I was going to tease you later.”
“Arschloch,” she says, but her voice is all fondness.
We listen to Brigitta and Otto talk, their voices softer now, and I don’t know what they’ve decided.
Cornelia looks away. I want her to keep talking. For us to pick at each other, for something to be simple.
“Do you want it? To be bonded with him.”
She gives me a flat look. “Oh yes, do allow me to unload my troubles on you.” Her eyes go intently to my blood-soaked clothes.
