His lips press together, before he responds. “I wish things were different.”
Yes,in other words.
But things are not different, and we are here.
Tobias straightens from where he leans against the wall of a dilapidated storehouse as we approach him on the cobblestones. The male sweeps his gaze between us and the darkness behind. “Anything?”
Silently, I shake my head. Callan tilts his head up, toward the path ahead. “We’re walking back. We won’t need an escort.”
Tobias doesn’t move.
And Callan’s voice cools. “Where exactly do you expect us to go?”
Tobias glances toward the steep wall that stands to our left, casting us in its long shadow. It runs ahead, parallel with the path, cutting off the open stretch of land that used to lead to the endless stretches of forest that make up the northern territory. “There are places, as you well know.”
“I very much hope,” Callan’s voice drops to something dangerous. “That you are not insinuating anything.”
Frowning, I look between them. There’s an undercurrent between the two that I cannot read. A silent conversation takes place in the turned down corners of Tobias’s mouth, in the faint glow that burns in Callan’s eyes. There are no trees, not here at the dock, but the small rocks and pebbles beneath my feet begin to tremble.
Tobias does not back away. “There was a discrepancy in the cargo inventory lists. But I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”
A small smile tilts Callan’s lips, though it holds no humor. “I really couldn’t give a fuck about the inventory lists, as you well know. We take as much as we can.”
“A far bigger load this time.”
Callan’s shoulders lift. “I was testing myself. Thankfully, it worked out.”
Tobias eyes him a moment longer. His blatant dismissal as he turns away irks me, even though his tone is bland and polite when he addresses me. “I’ll escort you through the town, Selene.”
“I do not need an escort.” My voice is soft, but I have my own steel that lingers beneath. “The last time I moved throughthe town, it was the Caelumnai I avoided. Your assistance is appreciated, but declined, Captain.”
Tobias frowns. “I would prefer if you had one of my men with you—”
“Then send us Riordan.” Words crisp and cold and ice in my throat, I sweep past him, ignoring the surprise on both their faces. “He is one of your men, is he not? I feel more comfortable with people that I am familiar with. And if you expect me to use my maegis to fix the consequences thatyourpeople caused, I shouldn’t have to remind you that surrounding me with the men who slaughtered my sisters is not the way to achieve your goal.”
Only silence follows.
I take a half-dozen strides up the path before Callan catches up to me. “That was masterful.”
My eyes trace the wall to our left, looking for any exit. I can't find one. “I suppose. Where people here are concerned, I know what is expected of me, and I can work with it.”
Matthias was right, in a way. Let them think of me as a creature of Hala. A possible savior. An ally, if treated correctly. An opportunity to fix what has been broken.
And while they focus on that, I will attempt to learn what my sisters kept from me. What the Mother, the Maiden, and the Crone knew about my fate.
Why I had to leave, only to return when Asteria is almost beyond saving.
The stones beneath our feet give way to packed mud, the wall pulling away to give space to turf that used to be green, overflowing with ripe berries and flowers of a dozen different colors. Pausing, I move past Callan to crouch in front of a blackened patch of twigs. It’s barely recognizable as anything that was once living. “This is the lichen, I presume.”
It’s the first sight I’ve had of the plant Esme described to me. The plant choking the life from Asteria, pushing the Caelumnai closer to starvation.
“Correct.” He kneels beside me, snapping off a twig and showing how it crumbles in his hands. “There’s plenty more of it.”
Where there was once wood is now twisted darkness, the plants consumed by the black moss-like growth. I run my fingers over it, feeling the roughened edges. The texture reminds me of a healing cut. Of the scab that forms, and I grimace before pulling a little of the moss away from a blackened branch to see what’s beneath.
Oozing black liquid drips, splashing the ground as I turn the moss over in my hands. Lift it to my nose. This is the scent from the dock, the one I could not place.
It smells like decay. “How widespread is this?”
