Caio’s grip tightened, his knuckles white against the man’s shirt. “A robber who ignores a wallet and goes straight for a pendant? Try again. Who hired you?”
“I don’t know a name! I swear!” the man cried, his voice cracking with terror. “They just… they gave me a picture.”
Caio’s eyes narrowed. “A picture of who?”
The man’s terrified gaze flickered toward me. “Of you both. They said to get the pendant from you. That’s all I know!”
I moved then, my shadow falling over the terrified man. I kneeled, pushing Caio’s hand aside gently and replacing it with my own on the man’s chest. I didn’t press down. I just let him feel the cold that radiated from my skin, a cold born of the deep river, a cold that had nothing to do with the jungle heat.
“The man with the knee on your chest can only break your bones,” I whispered, my voice a low current that promised depths he couldn’t imagine. “I can make you feel the river filling your lungs, right here on this dry land. I can make you drown for a thousand years in a single minute. Now, who gave you the picture?”
“Silva,” he choked out, eyes wide with a terror that went beyond the physical, his body trembling under my touch. “Ricardo Silva.”
A chill ran down my spine. Ricardo Silva wanted theSeolais. But why? What was so important about this pendant? The questions swirled in my mind, adding to the growing sense of dread that tightened its grip around my heart.
The museum now seemed like a place of danger, not a sanctuary where I could reconnect with a lost part of my culture. The shadows stirred again, no longer just a flicker at the edge of my vision, but a silent threat lurking just beyond the reach of the light.
I glanced at Caio, still kneeling over the would-be thief, his face grim, his jaw clenched tight. He looked different. Harder. And suddenly, a gulf opened between us, carved by the violence that had erupted so unexpectedly.
The guttural growl that had escaped my throat, the swift, brutal efficiency of my counterattack—these were not the actions of the woman he had come to know, the woman who had shared stories of her people and their peaceful ways.
This was the Encantado, the protector, the warrior. And in that moment, I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes, a fear that mirrored my own, but for a different reason. He wasn’t afraidofme, not exactly. He was afraidforme. And for himself. He was caught in the crossfire of a war he didn’t understand, a war that had followed me from my world into his.
The weight of guilt settled heavily in my stomach. I had brought this danger to him, this violence and darkness. The queen’s warning echoed in my ears, louder now, more insistent. Perhaps she was right, and I was a fool to think I could find refuge in this world, to build a bridge between two such different realities. Perhaps the only way to protect Caio was to distance myself from him, to return to the river, to the shadows and secrets that were my birthright.
But the thought of leaving him, of severing the fragile connection we had forged, sent a fresh wave of pain through me, a pain that rivaled the fear and guilt. I was trapped, caught between two worlds, torn between two desires, with no clear path forward. The shadows deepened, and the rustling in the trees grew louder, closer, as if the forest itself was closing in,waiting to claim me, to drag me back into the darkness, to the river from where I came.
My voice, when I spoke, was low and dangerous, laced with an undercurrent of power I could barely control. “Get out of here,” I snarled at the would-be thief, my eyes burning into his. “Before I make you wish you’d never come after me.”
I stopped myself just short of uttering the threat that formed on my tongue, a threat that spoke of ancient magic and terrible consequences.
I couldn’t unleash that part of myself here, not in front of Caio. But the would-be robber understood. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with terror, and fled into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as he had come.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the pounding of my heart and the whisper of the wind through the trees. I turned to Caio, but his face was unreadable, his expression a mixture of awe and apprehension.
The chasm between us yawned wider, a stark reminder of the secrets that separated us, reminding us of how so different we were and how the dangers that now threatened to consume us would keep us apart. I swallowed hard, pushing down the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.
“I need to see the artifacts,” I said, my voice tight, the words clipped.
He met my gaze, his expression hardening with resolve, and simply nodded. A strange sort of respect flooded me. He wasn’t running.
“Follow me,” he said, his voice calm in a way that amazed me. TheSeolaispulsed against his skin, a warm, silent warning against the cold dread coiling in my stomach.
The rustling in the trees persisted, following us, watching us, a silent promise of threats to come. I stepped into the shadow of the museum, knowing with chilling certainty that the answerswe sought within its walls might cost us more than we were willing to pay.
CHAPTER 13
Caio
We headed straight to the encased artifacts tucked away in the hushed ‘Lore of the River’ exhibit. My mind kept replaying her lightning-fast reflexes, the raw power she’d unleashed.
It had been terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly baffling. I’d been so close to the attack, yet I hadn’t even registered the threat until Luzia moved.
And the strangest thing?In a situation like that, the sheer stress of it should have triggered my asthma. But my breathing was clear and easy, even with my heart hammering against my ribs.
Could it beher?Washerpresence somehow affectingme?
The glass cases gleamed beneath the soft museum lighting, holding fragments of a world I was only beginning to understand. Luzia moved slowly, her eyes tracing the intricate carvings on a wooden mask, the delicate patterns woven into a feathered headdress. Awe flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a profound sadness.
