Sorcha nodded. Relief and confusion tugged at her in equal measure. Giving a brief salute, she turned to leave. She could go home and crawl into bed, pretend the day hadn’t happened, but her nerves refused to settle.
Her boots carried her, almost without thought, toward the low amber glow of the tavern windows. Inside, the familiar hum of clinking mugs and quiet voices wrapped around her like an old cloak.
Drystan looked up from his corner table, one brow raised. The color of Scots pine lingered in his hair, a burnished brown touched by the sun, which was half pulled up in a neat knot. The rest falling over his shoulders stopping short of his collarbone. A few stray pieces fell across his cheekbones, framing his face.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he murmured, sliding a mug across the table without waiting for her to ask.
She dropped into the seat across from him; the wood creaked beneath her weight.
“Something like that,” she mumbled, lifting the ale and gulping down a few mouthfuls. Then she leaned back in the chair with a sigh.
Drystan chuckled, slipping an arm around her shoulder. Those bluebell eyes, adorned with long eyelashes, stared into hers.
“Let’s have it,” he teased. “What’s going on?”
Sorcha looked at his devilishly handsome face and exhaled, letting herself lean into the comfort of his arm.
“You know that quiet family on the edge of the fields? The ones who always give out apples at harvest?”
Drystan nodded. “How could I forget? Those apples alone kept me alive all last season. Why?” Then his smile faltered. “Did something happen to them?”
Sorcha let the words fall freely as her hands trembled slightly. “Many of the livestock perished along with their dog being severely injured. Their barn is also damaged.”
She shook her head, teeth clenched. “Whatever did it didn’t kill to eat. It tore them apart and just… left the bodies.” Her thoughts went back to the beast in the woods as her voice trailed off. She reached for the mug again, gulping more down.
Drystan was quiet for a beat, his fingers drumming against the mug, watching her stare into hers. Then he gave a small nod.
“I’ll head over there tomorrow, lend a hand with the barn door. I’ll have Mason come with me.”
Sorcha turned to him, her expression softening. “Thank you.”
He waved it off. “Don’t. It’s the least I can do.”
He flagged the barkeep for another round, then gave her a grin full of trouble.
“So… how many drinks till you come home with me?”
Sorcha chuckled into her mug. “I came out to drink, not to carry your sorry ass home.”
Drystan winked. “That’s one way to get you into my bed.”
Sorcha laughed again, raising her mug. “To surviving another day.”
Drystan shook his head and smiled. “Another day.”
Chapter 5
Merciful End
As the fog thinned, the golden city blurred behind him; his knees hit the soil before he’d realized he’d dropped.
The fog carried Kyron and the creature on a storm cloud of mist, landing them into a grove just beyond the sanctity of the Tuatha Dé Danann. The city shimmered behind him, fading into the distance as he turned to the figure slumped by his side. Gnarled bark and twisted limbs wrapped around a body blackened like ash. Crimson veins pulsed beneath the skin like molten sap, crawling through the bark that veiled what was left of a face.
His gaze caught on a faint star-shaped mark etched into its shoulder, and his breath hitched.
Alenia.
She had vanished from the Tuatha court two weeks earlier, a witch and a scry gifted with healing andforesight. Kind and soft spoken, her eyes had been the color of primrose petals, and a small star birthmark had rested above her heart. Whispers had always followed her, saying she came from the stars themselves.
