He was suddenly closer to her. When had he moved?
“As I watched you outside of Haldis’s that morning, there was a sudden shift, just a flicker of your hair and eyes. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but that had made it three times that you, and only you, had somehow changed before my eyes into that white-haired, emerald eyed woman from the forest. Too many times to pass as simply a coincidence.”
Oriana didn’t dare move; she just stared at him and kept her breathing steady and relaxed, a slow even rhythm. Her glamour must have faltered. She had been too overcome with emotion and need when she was around him. But even so the possibility of her enchantments breaking was slim indeed. It was not just a matter of them fading away over time. Her enchantments were tangible things set into motion and would continue until she willingly brought them down through her own power.
Had her subconscious somehow caused her magic to waver in his presence? Maybe a small piece of her had wanted him to know, to make the connection. But no–it could not be so. He had somehow seen through her glamour, just as he had found her small sliver of paradise in the woods.
Garren brought a hand to her chin, angling her head so he could look her directly in the eyes. The silver pools she had remembered as storm clouds all those weeks ago shimmered like bright stars on a clear winter night.
“There is something else,” he said, and she felt a heavy weight settle in her stomach as she waited for his next words. “Last night, as I was looking through some texts in the monastery, I found something. It was a tomb I had already combed through many days before and yet this time, as I flipped through the pages, something peculiar happened. A new page appeared out of nowhere. It was not there at all, but then it was. And do you know what this page spoke of?”
Oriana didn’t blink, didn’t even move one muscle. Dread pooled in the pit of her stomach.
“It spoke of the Woman in White. A ghost with flowing white hair and glowing green eyes. She is said to be the White Demon’s first victim, trapped within the forest, forever watching over the town of Sardorf. She has been spotted only a few times in recent years, but each time it was at the forest’s edge where you found me, watching over the people like a guardian angel.”
Oriana’s head pounded as blood rushed through her at a racing speed. He was piecing it all together.
She had to stop this, had to stop him from digging even further into the histories. He couldn’t find out who she really was. He couldn’t come after the White Demon.
“Oriana.” His voice was soft. “Are you the Woman in White?”
Her breathing grew shallow, her heart racing.
“You didn’t find me on the edge of the forest that night, did you? You found me when I stumbled into that strange place filled with golden light.”
“I–I.” She had finally found her voice, but quickly turned from him. “I think we should go back to town.”
Oriana took off toward Sardorf. It was too much. It was all too much. Garren would never stop. He would keep searching, keep uncovering secrets until he finally figured it all out. And it would be too late. She would devour him, and she couldn’t let that happen.
Her mind conjured thoughts of Darragh. His death had been like a thousand shards of glass piercing her heart, but she knew that losing Garren would be far, far worse. Their connection ran deeper than anything she had experienced before. His loss would destroy her.
“Oriana!” he yelled after her, but she kept her pace and ignored him until they finally broke through the edge of the wall of evergreens.
“Oriana.” He grabbed her wrist and forced her to a halt. “How?” was all he asked.
She knew what he wanted to know, knew that he was asking how she could possibly be the Woman in White, but there was only one thing in her mind, something she could not understand.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Garren only angled his head in question, but before he could offer any kind of response, the mid-morning air shifted around them. A cold bit through the warm rays of the sun, stealing the breath from her lungs. Garren must have felt it, too, because he went taut as a bowstring beside her.
A figure peeled itself from the town’s shadowed edge, walking toward them.
“Well hello sister,” Orrick’s casual voice droned as he sauntered through the field between them like a cat coming to play with its favorite toy. “My, my. Who's your monstrous friend?”
Oriana watched as Orrick’s gleaming white locks came into view before the rest of him. She glared into his glowing green eyes. Garren’s head whipped up toward the voice, hand hovering over the dagger he had belted on his thigh.
Orrick only glanced at Garren’s fingers inching toward his blade. “Oh, my dear boy, that won’t be of any use to you.”
Garren made no movement away from the blade, only remained as he was, eyes narrowing at the stranger.
“Sister,” he chided. “Look at you, so very…” He flicked his hand back and forth through the air as if attempting to brush the word he was looking for from the air. “Common.” He finally decided. “Blending in nicely, I see. Tell me, who is your new pet?”
She growled at that. “Orrick! Leave us. You are not wanted here.”
He placed a long-fingered hand over his chest, stumbling as if he had been hit by a large blow. “You wound me, sister. It’s been ages since our last visit. I’ve only come to see how you’re faring. Exceptionally well, it seems.” His eyes darted to Garren and then back to Oriana with an exaggerated wink. “Come now, where are your manners? Won’t you introduce me to your new friend?”
“No,” she snarled.
