She stands, slinging a pack behind her. “Killian. He calls me.”
I freeze in shock and then lunge forward to grab her hand. She’s trying to slip out of the tent flap and into the cold.
“What the fu—what are you talking about?!” I hiss.
My heart leaps into my throat. Not now, not after all this time. Not when he’s finally gone silent in my own mind.
Saela pulls against me, struggling mindlessly. My arms tighten around her, and I want to scream.
The sire bond. It must be the sire bond that Aldrich mentioned finally affecting her. Because of…
The necklace.
I’d put it on her almost immediately after she turned, hoping it would protect her. And it did, it seems—in a way I’d never predicted.
I wrench the necklace from my neck and force it over Saela’s head.
The moment the opal touches her skin, she sags in my grip and then turns to me, confused. “Meryn? What happened?”
“I—” Horror stifles my words.
Killian. That fucker.
My breathing returns to normal as Saela’s expression remains unmistakablyher.
“Saela, listen carefully. I need you to keep that necklaceon at all times, all right?”
Her eyes widen in fear, and she swallows.
Taking a deep breath, I lean down so that our eyes are level. Then I tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her on the cheek.
“Just promise me, okay? I’ll explain everything later, but I was wrong about me taking the necklace. You need it. Donottake it off while I’m gone.”
She nods in silence.
After another tight hug, I force myself to leave. As I go, I reach out mentally to Venna, letting her know about the necklace so she can keep an eye on it.
Then I catch up with Stark where he’s waiting with our wolves. Anassa greets me with her teeth bared—she’s edgy, riled up, and desperate to get out on the field.
Stark sits astride Cratos, decked out in full battle leathers. The layers of leather and padding emphasize his muscular arms and shoulders, the broadness of his chest. The two of them together are an inky black silhouette against the dawning light. A vision of strength and power.
“You ready?” I ask both him and Anassa.
Stark merely scowls at me. I know he’s still furious that I won the argument, that we’re charging off on this possibly foolhardy mission.
But I also know that he won’t let anything happen to me—not while he’s still standing.
“Let us go rain death upon them,” Anassa growls.
24
MERYN
Stark and I ride toward the Siphon encampment without fanfare.
Obviously, the point is for us to surprise the Siphon forces, so it doesn’t make sense to make a big scene out of it.
Still, it’s a little anticlimactic.
