Trik stared at the Book, chest heaving, Cassie’s presence echoing in his blood like a vow.
“Yes,” he said grimly.
“Why?”Cush asked, his voice laced with anguish.No doubt, the pain of the bond that linked him to Elora being severed in such a violent, absolute way.
Trik felt the fire in his eyes that matched the heat in his veins as he answered.“I don’t know, but it’s going to learn why that’s a mistake.”
* * *
The fire burned low,its flames curling inward as if conserving strength.Embers popped softly, sending brief sparks into the air before they vanished beneath the canopy.Moonlight filtered through the branches above them in thin, fractured ribbons, catching on bark and blade and the sharp angles of Oakley’s shoulders as he crouched near the fire.Syndra watched as he jabbed at the coals with a stick, harder than necessary.
The forest answered with a rustle, not wind, Syndra realized, but something deeper.Leaves brushed together without moving.Branches creaked faintly, stretching like joints that hadn’t been used in a long time.It was well past midnight but the forest was not asleep.
Syndra felt it in the way shadows gathered just beyond the reach of the firelight, pressing close without crossing an invisible boundary.In the way the air seemed thick, heavy with awareness.She didn’t feel fear, but her instincts stirred, ancient and alert.
Oakley scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, fingers dragging through his hair.“Okay,” he said finally.“So ...we’re talking about it, right?”His voice echoed too clearly in the clearing.
Syndra stretched her legs toward the fire, boots catching the light as she shifted.She kept her expression deliberately neutral, even as her gaze flicked toward the tree line.Tamsin sat beside her, straight-backed and still, his attention fixed outward as though he expected the forest itself to answer.
“Talking about what?”she asked lightly.
Oakley shot her a look.“Seriously?”
A low crack sounded from the woods—wood settling, perhaps.Or something else.
Her brow lifted.“You’ll need to narrow it down.The list ofitsis long.”
“That guy,” Oakley snapped.The stick stabbed into the coals; sparks leapt, sizzling as they died.“Your weird forest hermit neighbor.”
Syndra blinked once.“Rezer?”
“Yeah,” Oakley muttered.He shifted, sitting back on his heels, restless energy rolling off him.“Him.”
She exchanged a glance with Tamsin.His answering sigh was barely audible, but Syndra felt it all the same.She felt the tension settle deeper into her chest.Discussing Lisa was never simple.Discussing Lisa with her son present was worse.
“Oakley,” Syndra began carefully, “Rezer is?—”
“He’s dangerous,” Oakley cut in.The fire popped again, loud in the sudden silence.“He gives off ...you know.”He waved a hand vaguely, fingers flexing.“Creepy vibes.”
Tamsin’s mouth twitched.“Creepy vibes.”
“I’m serious,” Oakley snapped.“He’s a dark elf.And he’s hanging around my mom.”He paused, jaw tightening.“Mymom.”
A breeze whispered through the clearing, stirring loose ash.The fire guttered, then steadied.
Syndra leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.“I know you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried,” Oakley said quickly.His voice cracked.“I’m ...annoyed.”
“You’re worried,” Tamsin said, calm and unyielding as stone.
Oakley scowled.“Well, he’s ...him.Tall.Smug.Mysterious.Brooding.”
“Sounds right up your mom’s alley,” Syndra said before she could stop herself.
Oakley glared.“Not funny.”
She knew her grin suggested otherwise.
