Sight was supposed to be the holiest blessing from the Goddess. I thought it was a curse.
And my fated mate?
He’d only finalize the doom that our deity had started uponblessing me with irises in an icy shade of blue—the most powerful color among the Angels.
“Sylaira,” Heraphia hissed, drawing me out of the haze of anger and back to reality.
I started, hand slipping and nearly cutting myself with the sharp scrub brush. The skillet I’d been cleaning had a deep gouge from the force of my actions. “Sorry,” I murmured, dropping both into the washbasin. Water sloshed, frothing the soap bubbles and wafting citrus into the air. I turned to face my oldest friend, shoulders slumping inward—only to find aquamarine eyes wide with fright and scouring mine.
My heart leaped into my throat. “What’s happened?”
Heraphia swallowed, a hand hovering over her heart. “I think we need to move.”
I took a tentative step forward, the dishes forgotten. “Have you had a vision?”
Like me, Heraphia wasblessedwith Sight. Her eye color was only a shade weaker than my own, which made her—both of us—a great prize for the rulers of the Angels. For decades, we’d hidden from the crown. The Koron and Korona wanted the Seers to wield like weapons of war.
I wanted no part in their violence. In their bloodshed. They called the loss of life Goddess-sanctioned, but it was ritualized slaughter. The mere thought of all the broken bodies I’d Seen brought bile up from my stomach. I’d spent my life among the Elessarum, and I’d do whatever it took to ensure my hands remained unstained by ruby.
Except See.
Which was why I consumed virelthorn like it was the air I needed to breathe.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice shivering despite the heat of the summer. Heraphia didn’t take the herb to suppress her visions. Three times now, a flash of the future had come a daybefore hunters for the Korona. Three times now, she’d saved us from being snatched from our beds in the middle of the night.
“When?” I pressed, dread drowning my veins. We’d only just settled in here. But the bounty for reporting members of our peaceful group had doubled since the Demons invaded the Angel’s sovereign territory the previous winter. The army had beaten them back, but the current peace was tenuous at best. It was only a matter of time before the two realms, positioned on either side of the Skala Mountains, clashed again.
It had been ten brutal years, to say the least.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It happened so quickly. Maybe it was nothing…” Heraphia trailed off, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she gazed out the window behind me.
I grasped her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “If you think we should go, then we will go. What did Zuriel say?”
She sighed. “He isn’t back yet. That's why I came straight to you.”
I glanced behind me at the stack of unwashed dishes. “Okay, here’s the plan. Alert the others. I’ll finish up here. We’ll be packed and ready by the time he returns.”
Our group of peace-lovers was scarcely more than twenty these days. Two years ago, an Elessarum stronghold had been raided, during which my parents had been slain. After the massive loss of life, we’d kept to smaller numbers, hoping to remain unnoticed among the myriad of merchants coming and going.
Zuriel, having been born to one of the noble houses of the Angel Realm, carried a regal air that was unmistakable. Perhaps he’d been spotted in the village and someone had alerted the local hunters, which had triggered his wife’s latest vision.
Whatever the case, if she sensed it was time to move on, it was time to move on.
“Do you need me to pack your bags?” Heraphia asked, dropping my hands and stepping back.
“If you can.” I offered her a sad half-smile. “There shouldn’t be much to put away. Haven’t had much time to unpack.”
Anguish twisted her lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault. You are always protecting us,” I said, yanking her into a warm embrace. I rubbed my hands over her back, trying to soothe the ache of having to move on so soon. We relied on her to keep us safe, a fact that made me feel guilty more often than not. But I couldn’t bring myself to come off the herb and allow myself to fall into the horrors in my head.
“You’re right,” she hiccuped, and I released her. She dashed her cheeks with the backs of her wrists. “Okay, I’ll go now. No time to waste.”
“Go in peace,” I told her.
“Always in peace,” she replied. Then, she disappeared from the kitchen and into the long hall that led to the other rooms in the estate we’d rented.
Tears pricked my eyes the moment her skirt swished out of view. I held my breath for another ten seconds, stomping back toward the washbasin, and tried to stem the flow of salt so I could see what I was doing as I yanked another plate from the dirty pile.
