An uncountable number of scars marked her exposed face, neck, and hands, each one short and thin as if drawn by a quill or sharp knife, not a sword. They disappeared beneath the seams of her black frock, which hung on her body as a sheet would hang upon spindly branches.
Her lips peeled back, revealing a set of rotten teeth.
Stand your ground, I urged myself, all too tempted to flee.
She couldn’t be worse than the wolves. I’d handled the wolves. I could handle her.
“And here I thought my day would be good,” she hissed, sounding as if she’d been strangled.
“Hello to you too, Josenne,” Harthon replied, seemingly unbothered by her aggression.
Pale, almost translucent eyes found me, revealing nothing butdisdain. They lingered long enough to cause my skin to chill. It was as if she could see into my soul.
With unexpected agility, she disappeared from the doorway, and I noticed Harthon’s shoulders settle. No matter how comfortable he sounded, he was still affected by the woman.
Harthon, who wasn’t affected by any adversary, was discomforted by the frail lady.
That wasn’t good.
The cottage’s layout resembled any other, but that was where normalcy ended. Skulls hung on the walls, and smaller bones formed piles on tables, counters, and floors, strewn amongst carefully arranged leaves and collections of briars. I studied them as we came to a small table, thankfully finding that none appeared human. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling every few feet, so low that Harthon was forced to duck beneath them, and every window was shuttered. Though it was midday, the only light came from the open doorway.
Josenne had been sitting alone in the darkness.
With her bones.
That was deeply disturbing.
“She isn’t themagvis,” Josenne spoke with certainty, falling into a rickety chair.
“No,” Harthon confirmed.
With themagvis’eyes and the story we’d told the public, there was no way the woman should have so confidently known that.
“But she has the eyes.” Josenne cocked her head, trapping me in her sight. “What color were your eyes before?”
I steadied my voice before I answered. “Brown.”
Her lips parted in a joyless, macabre grin. “I do love brown eyes.”
From anyone else, it would be an oddly-phrased compliment. But in that strained coo, it was a threat. Did she collect eyes with her bones?
“She is not themagvis, but she has the eyes,” she mused, smacking her lips together. She picked up a small bone, not unlike a bird’s leg, from the table. “Themagvisgave something to her.”
“Themagvisgave her knowledge of the path that leads into the Domus,” Harthon said.
Josenne pointed the bone toward me, and I couldn’t hide my grimace. There was little chance the bones were ever cleaned. “She can’t find the knowledge, and you want me to help. What makes you think I can help?” she asked coyly, placing the end of the bone between her teeth.
I fought a gag, silently pleading for Harthon to hurry this conversation along.
“We both know you can,” he answered flatly.
She slammed the bone onto the table, and I jumped. “You will leave, and she will stay,”
There wasno wayI was staying in this cottage alone with the woman.
Harthon crossed his arms, settling his stance. “No.”
She burst into a cackle, throwing her head back to reveal more scars beneath her chin. As suddenly as she started, she stopped. “Boy, you can cross your arms and threaten with your eyes, but we both know I am the only one with power here,” she sneered.
