A muscle feathers in his jaw. “Soon enough.”
The wails of the dead grow louder the deeper we move into the forest, until I feel like I can no longer remember what silencesounds like. I close my eyes and try to shut them out, but it’s impossible. They’re all I know.
As the wails grow to a terrible crescendo, a strange sensation tickles the back of my mind. And an utter certainty comes over me. There’s something I need to remember. That in itself is nothing new—I’ve forgotten so many things. But this is different. There’s something on the tip of my tongue, so close I can almost taste it. I reach for the memory.
But the thought startles and takes flight before I can catch it.
I sigh, close my eyes, and rest my head against Taliesin’s shoulder. The strength of him—the scent of rowan and leather clinging to him—is a balm against my pain and the rawness beneath it. I keep replaying the moment I saw Osian in that camp and hearing his words echoing over and over in my mind.
Release her. Give her to us.
Notlet her goordon’t hurt her. And he was with Maelor, the one who took me captive in the first place. They moved like partners, two warriors bound to the same purpose, not like one man trying to free me from the other.
The night drags by at a sluggish pace until, at last, the sea wind rushes across my face and the dark wall of trees falls behind us. We escaped the forest alive.
Taliesin carries me into the rebels’ old camp and gently sets me down on one of the crumbling walls. The moment my arse touches the cold stone, the tension inside me begins to unravel. I exhale slowly, then draw in a breath of salt and sea air. Bryn climbs into my lap and presses her small, warm body against me, like she’s trying to tell me everything will be all right. I trail my fingers through her fur, and the tightness inside me loosens even further.
Taliesin’s hands hover near my arms, like he’s worried I might break if he touches me.
“I’m fine,” I say. “You don’t need to look so concerned.”
“Tell me what they did to you,” he demands, like he didn’t hear a word I said.
“I can’t tell you because I don’t know.” I reach behind me and gently press on the talisman. A dull pain throbs through my skin.
“We need to take that fucking thing out of your neck.”
I flinch. “I can’t.”
“Why?” He frowns. “It’s the only thing left linking you to them. Take it out, and they can never reach you again.”
“Except the magic I get from this talisman doesn’t rip my mind apart,” I whisper. “Without it, all I have left is the thing that breaks me.”
“We’ll find a way to fix your magic, so it never hurts you again.”
A startled laugh pops out. “That’s impossible, Taliesin.”
He gently takes my hand, anchoring me in a way I didn’t know I needed. “You’re like me in so many ways. I can use my magic without losing myself. So can you. We just need to find out how.”
I meet his gaze, my heart hammering. He means this. There’s no mockery or doubt in his eyes. He truly believes there’s a path forward for me, but…
“My power is only good for one thing,” I say bitterly. “And that thing helps no one.”
He arches a brow. “Tell that to the firebird whose life you saved.”
I shift on the wall. He has me there. Still, I don’t know who I am without the Order’s magic, and when a cold gust sweeps in from the sea, I find an excuse to turn the conversation elsewhere.
“I don’t want to do anything until we reach the rebels’ new camp. They’ll have fire and warm food and hopefully news about Brioc, Gwenydd, and the harp.”
A deep frown furrows his brow. “I need to check you over for wounds.”
“I’m not wounded, I swear it.” I press a hand against his chest, the remnants of the broken chain rattling between us. “They did something with the talisman but no more than that. And the thing that will help me the most right now is getting somewhere warm and safe.”
By the look on his face, I can tell he wants to argue. He can see the tremor in my hands, and my face is probably pale as death. But I’m not only trying to flee this conversation. I do want to get back to the rebels. I need to know if they recovered the harp. I need all of this to have meant something.
Still, he doesn’t move. “And Osian?”
I clench my teeth and look away. “What about him?”
