He said nothing, only stepped in front of her, so that he was now between her and the fire. Thia frowned. “What are you….” But then mist reappeared.
A girl. Not Melina. Young, with light brown hair and white skin, her lashes long and doe-like. “Da?”
Thran’s breath hitched.
“Da, is that you?”
Thia gasped. “Your daughter?”
Thran shifted, putting his back to the flames so he faced Thia again. His mouth pulled into a harsh line, but moisture glistened on his cheek in the trembling light. “An illusion.”
But she understood what he wasn’t saying. She was dead, the same as Thia’s parents. That these specters wore their faces meant nothing.
Thia sagged. “How?”
“As the lass said,” Thran replied, jutting his chin at Oskaren’s sleeping form. “Departed souls, embittered against those still living. They sense your thoughts and use them against you. Should you have followed, they would only have led you to death.”
The specter had never named the song. Only hummed it—while the same melody was playing through her mind.
A chill crept over her. They would have killed her. Wearing her parents’ faces. And she would have let them, if not for Thran.
Thran, who had left her to the nÿgens. Who had evidently lost a daughter.
His face was unreadable as he waited for her response. She wasn’t quite ready to thank him. “You can go back to sleep,” she said instead. “I’ll ignore them.”
Thran’s attention flickered between her and the flames. He opened his mouth, then seemed to think the better of whatever he might have said. He climbed back into his roll.
But, Thia noticed, when he rolled onto his back, he didn’t close his eyes. And when her parents returned, urgent and beckoning, she was glad not to be alone in the dark.
SIXTEEN
WHEN THE FIRE HAD DIMMED,EACH WATCH FULFILLED,THEY SETout again. Thia’s muscles had stiffened with the hours of little movement, and each step was a battle. Oskaren shouldered her pack once more, and Dess acted as a crutch, practically dragging her up the hill with an arm around her waist. It was an awkward angle with their height difference. Her shoulder ached, but she didn’t think she could manage on her own.
When they finally reached the peak, it was without celebration. Oskaren’s typical aloof amusement was replaced by a haggard grimace, and Thran was shaking from exertion. Dess set Thia down, only to stumble when taking a seat of his own. The barest hint of dawn was visible on the horizon, the first whisper of gray in an otherwise still-midnight sky. With no moonlight, it was difficult to see what lay at the base of the mountain, or in the valley before them. Dess said he believed it to be fields and farmland, with Cyning and the Lightning Tower a few days’ journey beyond. Thran set about collecting wood for another fire, the others following suit.
Alone, Thia put her head in her hands. She felt heavy, like she had lost her parents all over again. Maybe she had.
A brown hand appeared in front of her, holding out what appeared to be dried berries. “You should eat.” Oskaren dropped into a squat so they were at eye level.
“I don’t think I could.” She was probably hungry, but her stomach was an angry knot.
Oskaren inspected her—almost clinically. Then the girl said, “I should have taken the full watch.”
Confused, Thia raised her head. “What?”
“You saw your mother.”
“You were listening.” Maybe she’d heard the whole conversation with Thran.
Oskaren, of course, didn’t have it in her to be ashamed. She only shrugged. “You were hardly whispering. The two of you woke me.” She paused. “You wanted to follow her.”
Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but this was Oskaren. How could it be anything but a barb? Thia tugged the ends of her hair. “Yeah, well. Thran stopped me. You were spared the consequences of my uselessness.”
“Then I was also spared the chance for a daring rescue. How tragic.” Her eyes glittered. The humor was a sharp knife in Thia’s fragile emotional state, and she shifted away.
“Just don’t, okay? I’m not in the mood.”
Long fingers touched her knee, brief and fleeting. “Thia.”
