Seth glared at me, eyes the color of blood.
“Something wrong?” I asked, hesitating.
“No,” he said quickly. “Come on. I’m sure we can find one of those.”
Breaking my gaze, he led the red mare away, Whisper trotting behind its hooves. Exhausted and aching, I trailed after him, adjusting my eyes to the night as we approached a nearby field to rob the poor farmers of their steeds.
Seth halted abruptly. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “For saving Percy.”
“It wasn’t the most elegant rescue.” I huffed, glad to be stopping. “We were supposed to be sitting by a fire with wine right now, listening to Percy slander you in a heart-wrenching ballad.”
“He did mention having a second song, didn’t he?”
“A more traditional crooning over your break-up, I’d imagine.”
The corners of Seth’s mouth twitched. “I do feel . . . a bit bad about what happened.”
“What did happen?”
Seth paused, tugged the horse’s reins, and continued walking. “I abandoned him.”
“I gathered as much.” Burning pain traced across my chest as we walked. “Why?”
He sighed. “Percy shouldn’t be out here. He should be at home. I thought I’d be doing him a favor, but I should have known he’d be too stubborn to do the right thing.”
“What do you mean?”
Seth’s brow lowered in thought. “It’s not my place to spill his secrets. Ask him. He’ll tell you.”
I tried to read between the lines of his words and expressions, wondering if Percy had a family or obligations he’d left behind. Seth’s tone revealed little save a worry for his friend. Pain flared in my chest again, and I doubled over, face torn in a grimace.
Seth grabbed my arm, steadying me. “Are you alright?”
“No,” I choked. “Hurts.”
He tilted his head. “Have you ever moonlit as a horse thief?”
“Surprisingly, no.” I gasped. “I didn’t leave the city much.”
Nodding, Seth whistled. Whisper’s ears shot up, and the hound hurried to my side, sitting on my feet. “Protect the lady, boy.” He released my arm. “I’ll steal your horse for you.”
Handing me the horses’ reins, he jogged into the night. Grateful, I sank to the ground and tried to sort through my thoughts.
I could stop the Empty. I couldenterthe Empty. Why?
And how had rumors about me spread? As a child, I’d been stupidly wandering the woods when the Empty had cleaved across the land toward me. Ainwir had appeared in the nick of time, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me to safety, running far faster than my short legs could have managed.
I’d sworn the Empty had receded from my touch, but I’d never shared my flights of fancy with anyone but . . .
Ainwir.
The masked nobleman had implied that Ainwir’s timely intervention was no coincidence. But . . . what did that mean? If Ainwir had known about my magic, why had he simply taken me on as an apprentice, nothing more?
My head hurt too much to think right now. Wrapping my arms around Whisper, I tried to drown out the sound of the wind, the insects, the distant rushing of the stream.
Pure silence had enveloped me in the Empty, devoid of senses, of breath. In a way, it had been . . . comforting.
The keres beckoned us to join them in oblivion. Free from suffering, from strife.
