Batting my doubts away, I inch toward the fire, holding my hands out to the warmth of the flames. Freezing to death wouldn’t help me.
A large spit stretches across the firepit. Clearly, they roast meat over the fire. At least they cook their food. Sometimes, at any rate.
The rainbow of gemstones circling the firepit mesmerizes me. My gaze catches on the glint of a blade, a knife discarded off to theside of the ring of stones, likely forgotten there from the last time it was used.
I take a bracing breath and fix my gaze resolutely on his face even as I inch closer to that blade, still holding my palms out to the welcoming heat. “You need to understand something.”
His lips twitch as though amused, and rather than disarming me, this heightens my unease. In this moment, perhaps more than ever, he resembles a predator toying with his food.
“What is that?” He circles me, silent on the pads of his feet, his movements casual, boasting an ease and idleness that only puts me more on edge.
I am not food. I am not prey.
I moisten my lips, and he tracks the movement. Never have I felt so intensely the subject of anyone’s focus...even when I was visible. “You can let me go—”
“Can I?” He angles his head in a sharp, abrupt motion. His eyes glow, the pupils vibrating unnaturally, and I hold very still, suddenly struck with the idea that I should make no sudden movements around him. “Killing me is no longer your sole purpose?”
I blink.
He continues. “You said finding a weapon of dragon bone feels like your entire purpose.”
I wince as he flings my words back at me. Probably not the most prudent thing to say. Though rather than attempt to deny my avowal of moments ago, I say instead, “I’m not going to tell anyone about you or—”
“Yes, you said that before.” He shrugs a big shoulder, impatient with me. “Your promise is not enough. There is too much at stake here. Discovering that we exist would change everything. Humans would cease their petty little wars with each other and march into the Crags to ferret us out. It would be the past all over again. For our protection, they cannot know we still live.”
I shake my head. “I won’t shatter their belief. You must trust me. I won’t tell anyone because I can’t.”
He stops, his sudden look of interest absorbing and deep. “You...can’t?”
I nod swiftly.
“Explain.”
“I’m cursed.” I shrug feebly as though to say,It happens.“A witch cast a spell over me when I was fourteen. She made me invisible.”
His gaze narrows on me. “Why?”
“Did she need a reason? I don’t know.” At his dubious expression, I shrug again. “I was a child...in a temper. I said something stupid. I didn’t mean to, but I summoned her, and she cast me...” I spread my arms out at my side, hating that I still feel shame all these years later for my reckless and foolish behavior. “Iaminvisible to humans. I don’t know how it is thatyoucan see me, but—”
“Magic cannot best magic,” he replies distractedly, clearly processing the information I imparted.
I pause, struggling to understand. “You’re magic,” I murmur.
He nods slowly. “And any creature of magic can see you.” I allow that information to settle over me as he continues. “Whatever spell holds you in its web won’t work on me.”
So as I suspected, I’m still invisible to human eyes.
Deflated, I realize a part of me had hoped the curse was broken. Maybe more than hoped. Briefly, I’d allowed myself to believe that it was broken—that I could move among my own kind and finally reunite with Henrik and Meya. That once I escaped these monsters, I could travel to the Borg and have a life again.
His gaze drifts over me, to the space all around me. “It makes sense now,” he says.
“What does?”
“Why you’re different.” He gestures. “You have an...aura. A pale glow surrounding you.”
“I do?” Was that what he had been talking about in the village? Not my mismatched eyes.
He nods, his expression thoughtful. “It’s almost like you’re surrounded by a halo.” He considers me for several moments beforegiving his head a swift shake. “It must be your curse. The spell. It manifests itself in a subtle light all around you.”
