Then me.
The mark on my shoulder flared again when her eyes settled on me.
The Priestess smiled.
“Well,” she said softly. “This saves me a great deal of trouble.”
“I’ve never liked her.” Twobble squeaked.
“Feeling is mutual,” the Priestess hissed.
Nova stepped forward, green fire gathering along her hands.
“You won’t take her.” She straightened her shoulders and looked into the Priestess’ gaze.
The Priestess tilted her head slightly.
“My dear Nova,” she said. The way she said it made the air feel thin. “You’ve always been so dramatic.”
Ardetia moved beside Nova, her expression cold.
“You’re not welcome here.” Ardetia narrowed her gaze.
The Priestess glanced around the clearing and smiled before bringing her focus back to me.
“And yet,” she said lightly, “here I am.”
More shadows slipped down from the trees, gathering around her feet.
Bella crouched low, ready to spring in her fox form as Stella raised the skillet.
Rendel was the one who broke the silence.
“You shouldn’t have come this far for nothing.”
The Priestess turned her head toward him, and this time she studied him properly, like she was dusting off an old memory.
Recognition lit her eyes.
“Rendel.” A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“So,” she said lightly, “the wandering mage has finally stopped hiding.”
Nova’s attention snapped to Rendel, and he cleared his throat. “She doesn’t have what you want.”
The Priestess laughed under her breath. It was a quiet sound, almost warm—if you ignored the shadows shifting around her feet like restless things waiting for a command.
“Oh, Rendel,” she said with a faint shake of her head. “You do have a habit of appearing where you’re least wanted.”
Then her attention shifted back to me.
“And Maeve.”
The mark on my shoulder throbbed again, a sharp pulse of heat under my skin.
Her voice softened, almost curious. “Did Rendel explain what that mark means?”
No one said a word, and the silence stretched between us.
