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“I do not have the answers you are looking for. All of this is speculation. When I had the Guardian, it was unable to resurrect at all while split. I am not familiar with how it works other than what I have been told, and I am still learning the specifics of Diseased physiology. All that matters is you’re capable of resurrection just as well as any true vessel for the Guardian or Wraith, even with cases like myself.”

“Then why do you seem so upset about it?”

Jarek thought about telling her, but he’d done enough reflecting and socializing for one afternoon. He was beginning to feel suffocated, tired—weak—under the weight of what he learned and divulged. “I think I’ve given you enough to satisfy your proverb.” He straightened himself in the saddle and stared ahead. “Happy?”

“You tell me.”

Jarek grunted complaints at the fact she was, and he was the reason for it. “My promises have been fulfilled, so I’ll leave you be. No more games, yes?”

He gave the horse a kick, and it trotted ahead. He felt her eyes watching him long after he was engrossed with Croll’s drawling, and he didn’t release her anxiety until the boy awoke.

Chapter Seventeen

Unexpected.

That’s what the last few days had been, and it all seemed to mix together the further they got from the peninsula. They were nowhere near Rimore, but before her eyes, the entire landscape was the color of wheat, the air crisp, almost choking in the evenings as if it knew she didn’t have a right to breathe it.

She didn’t expect being called a witch to sting as much as it did. Nor did she expect that wolf—

Lily glanced one way then the other before turning toward the sky. That, whatever it was, ended up being a delusion. It had to be, right? She never saw it during the day, only at night when she was totally exhausted. It never got close, and with the way its slim form slunk between the shadows, vanishing and reappearing, there was no way she wasn’t seeing things. No animal moved like that.

She turned her head slightly, not looking back, but listened to the muffled voices of Draven and Croll talking behind her.

And there was Draven-fucking-Hazevale.

His very presence in all of this aside, the way he responded to the inquiry of whether he was responsible for it left Lily less than sure. But he did backtrack, being somewhat genuine with her concern in a way that made her believe he really didn’t know what it was.

Still, Lily didn’t completely dismiss him from being the cause of it. Even if he wasn’t messing with her, maybe it wasn’t intentional? He admitted to not knowing everything about Diseased souls. Neither did she, but she did know they almost had a mind of their own.

That had to be it. Lily never imagined things like this before he showed up. He was the most likely explanation for it.

And yet, an itchy feeling challenged that he wasn’t.

Regardless of the truth, the topic made him open up a little, and with it, she learned even a neglectful Imordial wasn’t without all their abilities.

Lily checked the fingers on her right hand. That aura was completely gone now, vanishing within a few days. What she intended to do was put the Serpent’s protection back, but instead she resurrected a part of him that she unintentionally killed.

She’d been questioning if resurrecting part of something was even possible, but clearly it was. Due to the Serpent’s ‘affliction’ no doubt. She suspected it wouldn’t work with a common soul.

A small smile pushed up her cheeks. Buried under all of the pressure of being tasked with taking life, it was nice knowing she could still give it in some way, even if Draven was ungrateful.

Lily pinched her eyes shut. How about positives not related to him?

She didn’t think she could trick a horse into thinking the Wraith wasn’t terrifying if all she did was present it with a tasty blossom every now and then. She wanted it to trust her despite the Wraith, which put a warm feeling in her chest.

The next surprise was waiting for them at the bottom of a steep hill. It was a man whose posture and looks rang a quiet bell in her head. She slowed, and Luka’s horse made a disapproving nicker behind her. He was tall—bulky, his muscles straining the gray shirt he wore. When he looked up, he smiled and waved them over.

Draven’s hand fell on her shoulder, easing her forward. Lily thought to snap at him, but she was so transfixed on who was greeting them that she just stepped quietly. When she was walking consistently, he let go and silently snuck the reins from her loose fingers.

The man lowered whatever he was smoking from his lips and tossed it away. He clasped his hands together and practically skipped up toward them.

“Lils! Is that you?”

She froze completely, surely looking puzzled as she racked her brain for a name. The man presented her a shit-eating grin under his slate blue eyes. He boldly strolled up with outstretched arms and hugged her. She inhaled the long forgotten, bitter scent of the plant he liked to smoke.

The breath that left her lips before his name was shocked and tender. “Sterling?”

“You remember!” He pushed her back; his face was as smug as it used to be but with a few more wrinkles in place. The sides of his light brown hair speckled with strands of silver. “I should say something sweet, huh? Let’s see”—he pressed his lips into a thin line and twisted his face—“You managed to get even taller. You gr—eh, mostly grew out of your freckles. And you… cut your hair? It looks…”