"Stop!" I managed to croak.
A hand shoved into my back, tossing me forward. I landed on my hands and knees on a wooden walkway. Mist hung in the air, humid and heavy.
I caught my breath, overwhelmed. Disgusted. But closing my eyes did not erase the memories.
"Go ask Brighid," Vaf said, kneeling beside me, voice a low whisper. "Who she is marrying. Ask her if she has any choice." Standing, he walked away, voice fading into the distance. "You lived a blessed life, Mare. You must feel so lucky."
Lifting my head, I looked back. But the fae lord was gone.
I needed to get up. Needed to find Liam.
But I couldn't.
Vaf's magic no longer restrained me, but I was still frozen. Broken.
Chapter 49
Liam
Istumbled through an endless fog, beckoned by a song I could not deny.
As a child, this voice had called to me in my dreams. Mother had shaken me awake, face torn in panic.
'Don't listen to her,' she'd begged. 'Stay here, with me.'
Mother had abandoned me, eventually. And the dreams had stopped.
Fifteen years, I’d been free of them. Then I stepped foot in Galasvar, and my curse came rushing back.
I didn’t understand it. Mother had kept so many secrets, and I’d been too young to understand any of them.
All I knew was this: the Inquisitors wanted to burn us alive because of something she'd done, because the people whispered her name.
The Witch.
And in the void of darkness, I’d finally caught a glimpse of the one who controlled me.
Death, herself.
“Focus on the flame.” A voice broke through the mist. “Come toward it.”
Fire burned through the mist, through the shadows. Stumbling toward it, I felt the world around me sharpen. Too loud, too bright.
Gasping, I sat up. Fire flickered a breath from my nose.
Flinching away, I looked around. Panic rose in my throat, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.
Where the hell was I? It looked like a shitty cottage I’d find on the outskirts of Aenir.
“He lives,” the redheaded woman sitting at my side marveled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a miracle.”
“You alright, kid?” A blond man standing behind her asked.
I blinked, and they came into focus. Brighid, I recognized. But the Solheart behind her . . .
Was the bastard from Tsuyan—the man who’d been responsible for the attacks, who was chummy with Bláth.
Patting my belt, I found my dagger and drew it. Pain tore through my shoulder, and I winced, doubling over.
