But nothing happens. No one appears. The ceremony goes on, and my blood burns… no satisfaction in sight.
“May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ash Merrick,” Mags hollers at the end, fighting the wind. A dust devil looms in the distance, black and menacing.
The fiddler starts in, playing from memory, squinting through dust. Cheers rise against the impending storm.
Miranda Reyes, Jo’s grandma, squeezes my hand. “At least, this breeze took the edge off July.”
I nod. “Can I help with anything?”
She shakes her head. “No, I think we can manage. Want a lift back to the house?” she nods toward an old pickup, more rust and patina than paint.
“Thank you, but I think I’ll walk back.” I say, distracted, eyes snagging on a distant petroglyph.
“Alright then. Don’t get caught in the rain.”
“I won’t, ma’am.”
After the wedding party departs, I walk among the petroglyphs. The air vibrates. My heart throbs behind my ribs. For the first time in two weeks, Isensehim.
I lift a hand, shielding my eyes and staring off into the distance. It’s not possible. It can’t be. All I see are cows and fields in every direction.
I climb the stony outcropping for a better view. Then, I spy it—a familiar symbol. I carefully wind between rocks in my strappy lilac-colored sandals, perfectly dyed to match my off-the-shoulder gown.
“That’s what’s in my field,” I rasp, leaning forward and pressing palm to stone. I trace the lines. It feels cool beneath my touch.
Thunder sounds closer now, dark clouds blotting out the sun. I should go back before I get drenched by the rain. But I can’t. I won’t.
My feet won’t move in that direction. Instead, they go the other way, leading me to another outcropping and a new series of glyphs.
I would recognize them anywhere…
Symbols that glittered over Kael’s chest and arms beneath the stars. I raise a shaking hand, touching one glyph.
Somewhere deep inside stone, I feel a hum, then a pulse. I blink hard, mind scrambling for an explanation. Seismic activity? The approaching storm?
It comes again, stinging my palm. Buried deep between rock and bone.
“Kael Guthrie,” I whisper. The lonely wind carries it away. The stone no longer speaking. Still my fingers trace the image. “What does it mean?” I whisper, the cowboy’s name still hot on my lips.
Back at the ranch house reception, Mags draws me aside. Her lavender eyes exude warmth, her voice gentle yet firm. “The stones. Did they speak to you?”
I half-sputter, half-laugh. “Speak?” But guilt bores into me. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets.
She leans closer, her voice a whisper. “It might feel like a pulse or a tremor.” She casts her eyes to the side, searching for the right words. “Even a small earthquake.”
The last words hit too close to home. I step back, pressing my fingers to my temples. Mama was right. Stay away from the Wildbloods.
I search the room, separating them from regular ranchers. Suddenly feeling out of place.
Clay and Wilton… Mags and Ash.
The last two names stick in my head—the things they said to Kael. The way Ash treated him after the snakebite still nauseates me.
I shake my head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes narrow. She doesn’t believe me.
But before she can say another word, Miranda comes over, patting my hand. “You look hot, Liza. Tea or lemonade?”
