She turned her back on him as she knelt down. There wasn’t much blood, just a few drops on the leaves. She could use the blood to track his men. Just a taste and it would form a connection between them. She’d be able to follow it even if they lost the trail.
Casrian wouldn’t like it, but it wasn’t like it was a spell. Not really. This was just a trick. She’d done it a dozen times before. They were getting nowhere wandering around like this. It was only a matter of time before one of those familiars managed to surprise them and then it was all over. It wasn’t safe to keep on as they had been, especially if she couldn’t depend on the trees to help guide her.
The crunch of leaves signaled Casrian’s approach. Before she could second guess herself, she picked up a leaf and touched it to her tongue.
Casrian reached her as she let the leaf flutter from her fingertips.
He touched her shoulder. “Rowan?”
She looked up. “I found the trail.”
Straightening from her crouch, she studied the area. Someone had slept here recently. Maybe just last night. She pointed at the pile of leaves, at the blood, at the trail that she could feel pulling at her.
“It’s recent,” she said. “We need to move quickly.”
Before she lost the taste of it.
As Casrian examined the ground, she let the blood pull her. She saw the wounded man. He was young with curly hair, cut close to his head. Hazel eyes and copper skin. She had other impressions too. That he was a good rider. That he was short, but very strong. That he was one of Casrian’s men. She was certain of it, though she couldn’t have said how, something about the clean sharp bite of his blood, like licking a knife. He was very hurt. Something was wrong with his leg, but he was still alive. He wasn’t going to be alive for much longer. She felt that too. Death was with him. It was threaded through the connection she’d made with his blood.
Casrian turned to study her. “What were you holding just now?”
“A leaf.”
She’d had to make a decision—find his men and kill the witch or wander around until the familiars found them again. She wasn’t going to die out here. No one else was going to die out here if she could help it.
Turning on her heel, she hurried to Copper and mounted. Before Casrian could ask her anything else, she was off. The trail led back toward the river, angling toward the fort.
And it was a trail.
The farther they went, the easier it was to see it. Horses had passed this way. A day ago, at most.
When they reached a place where his patrol had stopped to rest, Casrian dismounted and studied the ground as if he could count how many of his men had been there.
“We should stop here. There will be water nearby. We can eat some food.”
“We need to keep moving.”
“You can barely keep your seat. You’re exhausted.”
He started to dismount, but she nudged Copper forward. “We’re too close. We can’t stop now.”
She could feel it. That tug in her chest was getting weaker. The magic wasn’t fading. Edar was dying. She’d need to release their connection soon. She couldn’t follow him down the path he was about to take. She didn’t want to tell the Casrian that. Shecouldn’ttell him any of it.
She heard him mutter a curse behind her, heard the creak of his saddle as he settled himself, and then hoofbeats following. The path widened. He moved up right next to her and caught her reins, pulling Copper to a stop.
“Rowan,” he said in concern. “We need the rest. The horses do, even if you don’t.”
She looked into the woods, trying to get a sense of how far away they were from Edar, but the bond was fading so quickly it was hard to tell. She needed to let him go. It was barely a pull anymore. She didn’t think they were moving. That made sense, she supposed. They would probably want to stop to bury their friend.
She closed her eyes and thought about releasing the spell, felt it unravel from that spot where it had anchored to her chest. It almost felt like a loss. She always felt that way when she accessed any spell through her blood—that she was touching something deep and wild and so vast it was incomprehensible. That if she just understood it better, she would be able to do wonderful things. Not just track things, but create and heal and understandthe whole world. Casrian thought all magic was evil, but she was certain he was wrong. Maybe he’d feel differently about it if he knew she was using it to find his men. That was good, not evil. Evil was what was out there hunting his men.
Edar was gone.
There was a sick feeling in her chest. Even after she’d let the connection go, it was like some trace of it lingered. Death. She couldn’t stop thinking about the wild man she’d killed. The men Casrian had killed. She’d felt it then too. Death clinging to her. It was all around them now.
When she opened her eyes, Casrian was watching her, his expression cold. In his hand was the witchstone, glowing blue. “We need to talk.”
28
