Tendrils of smoke lift from his hair, as though he’s about to wink out of existence. “Because you’re the one who penetrated my mind, Behach Éan. Again.”
Fifty-Eight
Iblink at Lore, but when my lids drag up, he’s gone, and in his place is the low ceiling of Sewell’s house and my ever-faithful crow sidekick.
I take a breath. Two. Wait for the oxygen particles to clear the shockwaves racking my body. But then my brain replays Lore’s words, smiting the cleansing effect of lungfuls of air.
Because you’re the one who penetrated my mind, Behach Éan.
I can penetrate minds now? Minds of total strangers to boot?
It makes no sense.
I’m the halfling with no power. Resistant to iron, salt, and obsidian, but those are hardly powers.
I sit up so suddenly that the sheet pools around my waist. “Guess what?” I yank it up, then tuck it beneath my armpits, aching nipples be damned.
What?
“I think your power rubbed off on me because I just penetrated someone’s mind. And you’ll never guess whose!” Lore’s face with his strange makeup and piercing eyes scores my lids. “Oh my Gods, this must be my Crow side awakening!”
And if my Crow side awakens, then perhaps my Fae side will follow.
I shoot my gaze over to the bathtub and attempt to move the water.
Not even a ripple forms. I squint at it again.
Again, nothing.
Our powers don’trub offon each other, Fallon.
“But Isawyour master. Italkedto him. And I can assure you, he saw me.” His heated gaze on my bared flesh warms my cheeks. “He talked back.” My voice loses strength as my certainty wanes. “He even called me by that nickname you . . .” I stop pouring out my thoughts.
The only reason Lore would use the same nickname as Morrgot is becauseIput that word in his mouth.
Our encounter was a fabrication of the mind, a consequence of my high level of exhaustion.
“It was just a dream,” I mumble, my pulse dropping back into alignment, and then dropping some more. I swear, it turns downright listless.
Not that I wanted it to be real, but I wanted to have powers.
Morrgot must think I’m a serpent short of a den. Oh, why did I need to go and overshare?
Keeping the sheet tucked snugly around my torso, I dig my fists into my eyes and rub my disappointment away. When I lower my hands, Morrgot’s still staring.
“Is it time to leave?”
The silence stretches. And stretches.
Then, finally his mind-walking shatters it.It is.
Why did he hesitate? Because he’s worried about my mental wherewithal affecting this next segment in our journey? If anything, the combination of frustration and rest is flooding my veins and lending me a sort of manic vigor.
“How deep will I need to dig?” I’m hoping he says deep. My newly invigorated muscles thrum in time with my pulse. I need an outlet, and plowing through sand sounds ideal.
The noise of Selvati at night leaks through the thin walls, invigorating me further. I scoot my legs to the edge of the bed. I’m about to drop the sheet to grab the clothes I discarded before my bath, but they no longer grace the wicker chair in the corner.
“Umm. Do you have any idea what became of my things?”
