My father was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.
“How interesting indeed,” he sneered.
I stiffened, feeling like a bright light had just been raised above me, exposing all the unspoken things I kept from him.
“Indulge me. Does it go both ways, or only one?” he asked, sending my heart plummeting into the pits of my stomach. “I don’t understand the limitations of old magic, but I must say I’m impressed you’ve mastered it so quickly. Then again, you are my blood. You share my intelligence.”
I made a move to walk past him, bashing my shoulder into his as I went. I was bigger than my father, better built and riddled with far more muscles than he could even dream of. And yet, when his spindly fingers wrapped around my wrist and pulled me to a halt, I was a child again, falling to his beck and call.
“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”
I almost couldn’t control my anger, hot and flashing white like lightning in my veins.
“Take your hands off me,” I seethed, spit flecking across his face as I squared up to him.
Just to prove to me that he still controlled everything in my life, he held on for a few more beats before releasing me. The skin around my wrist itched like a vile bracelet. I’d need boiling water to scrub that feeling away.
“How about I share another truth with you, and then you can share one with me in return,” Tomin said.
“How about I choke you until the blood vessels in your eyes explode?” I jibed as I stormed off, with no clear direction besides getting away from him. “See how long it takes you to bring yourself back from that.”
He knows. He knows. He knows.
I had to find Hector. And quickly. The blood dripping down my cheek, my swollen skull, they were all signs that something had happened tohim, and I had no way of knowing if he was okay.
I trusted in his ability to protect himself, but that didn’t mean I wanted to let him. It was my duty… my single burning need. I would do anything to protect him, which was exactly why my father was right.
I had used old magic on Hector.
Last night, after we’d shared an intimacy together on a level we’d not explored before, I’d done something to him. And Tomin had just worked it out.
It was foolish and brash, but from the wounds across my body, I didn’t regret it.
The rune was meant to keephimsafe. A few soft lines painted onto his sweat-damp skin, followed by a silent murmuring of a spell I’d not read or learned, but manifested in the moment.
A spell to shield him from suffering and offer it to me instead.
Hector would kill me himself when he found out, and I hoped that was true. Because that would mean we both survived long enough to see each other again.
I was vaguely aware that Tomin was following me. Instead of looking back, I forged ahead, using my gut to guide me… my heart to lead me. He didn’t question me again on the old magic, but my silence was enough of an indicator that he’d worked me out. I scolded myself for being so reckless, so pathetic.
For hours the view around me had been the same. Rows upon rows of gravestones marking the endless number of people who’d died in the pursuit of witch hunting across generations. After a long while the landscape changed. Ahead of me, out of the mist, a new horror came into view.
Six pyres had been erected in what my heart told me was the middle of the grave-site. Bundles of dried wood skirted the bottom of towering gibbets. Mist danced like silver flames amongst the kindling, mocking the very tools used to burn those who were named witches, regardless if it was true or not.
“I must say.” Tomin cleared his dried throat. “Bahmet has done anexcellentjob of making these look as authentic to the originals as possible.”
He came to a stop beside me, hands grasped in front of him as his shoulder brushed mine.
I glanced his way, confused as to why he looked so proud that tears sheened his eyes. It shouldn’t surprise me that a man with such dark tendencies would cry with joy at the sight of an instrument of death.
Floating around him were flecks of what looked like dust shifting in the wind. I lifted a hand up to catch one in my palm. I ran a thumb over the fleck, watching how it broke apart and smudged my dark skin grey.
It was no dust.
It was ash.
I brushed my hand down my dirtied trousers, wanting to rid myself of the ash, but I only made the smudge worse.
