A scream. A shriek. Darkness. Then nothing else but three boys, a mule, and Reike holding her swords. No trace of Annath of his men, as though shadows had eaten them. Trisha swayed, the music dying.
Don’t forget, mortal. Once you know the truth. I’ll be waiting to collect my prize.
The shadows dispersed, the sun breaking through. As it did, all strength abandoned her. Trisha’s knees wobbled, and she fell, the lyre tumbling down on the grass. Across the plain, Reike’s face was white, her hand clutching the hilt of her sword. Next to her stood Dietric, his mouth slack, red hair simmering in the sunlight.
Trisha swallowed. Regret filled her entire core. This frail friendship she’d built—gone. And Blainor, what would he do? She’d whisked away his chieftain. There would be grave ramifications.
More than that, she owed a boon to a nameless god.
Shi’as had given his name like a present. She should have known then not to accept it. Never to use it.
The High King had been right. Even worse, there would be no avoiding the questions. The people knew. She’d exposed her past, the connection to the Undying Lands—the High King would demand his compensation. Either in blood or magic.
And as for Blainor… She might survive his questions. He knew. But what she couldn’t survive was her reckless promise to an immortal.
Shi’as had played Trisha like an instrument in his twisted song long before she had even realized.
Her body hit the ground, but even the pain of the impact didn’t hurt. She was too far gone. Darkness took hold.
30
A throbbehind her eyes pulled Trisha out of her slumber. She groaned, every nerve in her body on fire, bone-deep exhaustion making even breathing an arduous task. Everything hurt, as though she’d been tossed over rocks. Her skin was sore, bruised. Even her innards were tender as though someone had carved her hollow. All she wanted was for the blissful oblivion to take her back. Anything but this relentless ache.
Breathe in. Breathe out.She dared a peek through her lids, and a whimper escaped her. The light was too bright, assaulting.
She didn’t dare move a muscle. Only lay still and allowed her lungs to fill and empty. Slowly, the world started to gain stability. A touch of chilly air rustled the strands of her hair. Rich with heather and salt, it blew through the dust, mildew, and smoke in the air. Underneath them all lingered traces of spice and pine. Trisha wrinkled her nose. Her fingers twitched, rubbing against the texture of lush furs, a soft mattress beneath her… A bed?
The cedar suddenly made sense. She’d woken up in this frame before.
“So. You live.” Blainor’s voice cut through the air as though the realization had summoned him.
A creak of wood and a few steps. A weight landing next to her dipped the mattress.
“You know, Trisha. It’s almost uncanny, your ability to dismantle whatever plans I have for you. But then again, I should know by now to expect nothing else.”
“What do you mean?” she croaked, eyes peeled half-open. The light was too much, Blainor’s silhouette but a formless shape against the brightness. Her vision swam, nausea and exhaustion warring inside her. Her mouth tasted like ash. “Where am I?”
“Moorhafen. In my chambers.”
Gods, it hurt. Her throat was dry, raspy. As though she’d screamed for hours. Perhaps she had, in her dreams. She could still hear Shi’as’ laughter, low and taunting.
“Reike. The boys. Are they?—”
“They’re fine. Startled. Scared. Can you blame them?”
Regret clashed with relief. She’d saved them, but they’d never look at her the same way again. Not after today. She’d torn the veil between the mortal realm and the twilight world asunder.
“And it’s not them you should be asking after, is it, Trisha?” The tone was light, but beneath it ran something darker. Something furious.
Her heart’s pulse stalled. She couldn’t deal with this. Not now.
“Can’t you just leave me alone?” she whispered, eyes tightly shut as if blocking her view would wipe away everything transpired.
“Alone?” he repeated with a scoff. “Would you prefer the moors? More dangerous creatures dwell there if that’s what you wish.” A dry, unamused chuckle followed. “But from what I understand, even they would pale against the monster you summoned.” His voice dropped, becoming almost too gentle. “Tell me this at least, my dear. Is that beast still part of you?”
The silence pressed, wringing out her nerves.
Of course, the others had told him. Why wouldn’t they? And still she couldn’t admit the truth.
