My blood freezes in my veins. I must be seeing things, because there’s no way this new sovereign could be offering immunity for having magic. This must be some kind of trap—if anyone falls for this, they’re either foolish or desperate.
As I read the notice again and again, a horrifying realization dawns on me.
I may be both foolishanddesperate.
“I won’t be home from tomorrow night,” Gruffud murmurs as I rub obnoxiously fragranced oil into my skin.
I glance up at him from the vanity as I seal the jar and set it on the table. “Where are you going?”
“Darragh.”
Lips puckered in thought, I run my fingers through my wavy hair, dispersing any leftover oils from my palms. Carefully, I begin braiding the wavy strands. When Gruffud still doesn’t volunteer more information, I dare to request it. “Business deal?”
“Yes. Since damn Murtagh snatched the building I had my eyes on right from my grasp.”
That’s … not how that occurred, but alright. “What will you gain from this business deal in Darragh?”
He climbs into bed and pulls the covers up over his legs. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, wife.”
I bite my lip to keep more questions from spilling out, even though they gnaw at me. Gruffud leans over to his side table and turns off his oil lamp. He rolls onto his side, facing away from me.
For a few heartbeats, I stare at his back, certain that I’m imagining things. Since we’ve gotten married, there’s rarely a night when he’s simply fallen asleep. But the last couple nights, he’s left me alone.
Maybe the godsarealive because this is the best birthday present I could’ve asked for.
Chapter 30
For days,we don’t see many others on our route. Every so often, a tradesperson crosses our path with a wagon of goods. The sun is sinking in the sky as we trek through Diadun. A woman with a knotted mess of chocolate brown hair runs out of a nearby house, waving her arms frantically above her head.
Ava looks back at us and says something. Tiernan relays the words into my mind. “She’s asking us to help her ill child.”
There’s hesitation within our group; an unscheduled stop is risky. But what is the point of having the ability to help if we don’tuse it?
What if the rebels hadn’t gone out of their way to rescue Taig?
We all seem to come to the same conclusion—that we cannot just walk away and leave someone in need. Especially a child.
We dismount in the small front garden among limp flowers and bushes, a wheelbarrow, and a toy pull wagon made of wood. Sloan, Isobel, Osheen, and Chiyo stand watch while the rest of us trail the frantic mother into her home. On a bed of quilts in the center of the modest room, a child lies shivering. She looks to be no older than twelve. A lean young man with unruly dark brownhair and a square jaw stands from where he’d been perched beside the child.
“You’ve come to help …?” I don’t quite make out the name he uses for the child or Ava’s response to him. I miss being able to easily communicate and understand what’s happening around me.
I feel Tiernan’s magic nudge against my mind, and I let my walls sink. “The child’s name is Nuala. She’s eleven years old. The lad is Cahel, and his mother is Jacinta.”
“Thank you,”I mentally respond as Cahel leaves the room.
“She’s been feverish for days,” Jacinta says as we step closer. Numerous candles burn around the room, leaving a greasy scent in the air and making it harder to read Jacinta’s lips. I find myself having to focus intently on her words.
“I’ve tried giving her teas and herbs. I’ve even—” She stops speaking abruptly.
Tiernan’s gaze is on the child, his shoulders tense. I glance at him, a question lifting my brows.
“What is it?”I throw my words toward his mind.
“She’s a Wielder … Waterweaver.”
“Oh!”
Alys is already walking toward Nuala. Ava stands nearby, her arms folded over her lean torso as she stares at the woman she’s been avoiding speaking with. Alys kneels beside Nuala and places her hand on her shoulder. A heartbeat later, she flinches back and looks to Jacinta, then us. She signs as she speaks, “I sense dark magic.”
