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I froze on the threshold as a million questions ran through my mind—he’d said so many things. Things my brain was trying to reconcile with our reality. Things my desperate subconscious wanted to believe even though I couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
You thought wandering around unguarded was wise?
Decades of effort nearly thrown away in your impulsiveness…
I’ve tried to make it clear, to explain the stakes, what would happen if you do not walk the line, but I have evidently not been clear enough…
I’ve never forced you to lay hands on the men responsible for your sisters…
I did not stand guard over the two of you only for you to walk right into my brother’s thrall…
Maybe he was replaying that night too, because Adrastos’ eyes fell to the floor for a long beat before he sighed—heavily enough that his shoulders rose and fell beneath the unseen burden. Slowly, as if avoiding spooking a wild horse, he slid his hands into his pockets and strolled across the room, staring out my windows.
Heat crept through my ribcage and up my cheeks in absurd embarrassment as I crossed my arms, watching him glare at the sky as though it had betrayed him. I opened my mouth, unsure which of my hundred questions was about to swan-dive off my tongue, only to snap it closed.
Silence. There was power in silence. Aren said as much. So did Nat. Hell, she’d used it to get us to crack as teenagers when she knew we’d been up to some kind of bullshit. Was that his tactic now? Take up so much space—so much oxygen—that I threw myself at his feet? Well. If nothing else, I could ensure he was sorely disappointed in that.
When he maintained his best impression of an effigy, I huffed a breath and turned back into the bathroom to wash up. I’d scrubbed my hands and face by the time the hair on my neck rose, my magic shifting to accommodate his presence in the tiny space. Not willing to gratify him by cracking first, I turned for the towel, giving him my back. A statement I sure as hell wouldn’t feel safe making to Moros.
The devil you know, indeed.
“Our deal, Dr. Briar.”
“I held up my end,” I muttered, patting the cool water droplets off my face.
“I’m aware,” he drawled, and I felt his eyes on me as I unpinned my hair, sending it pouring over my shoulders and down my back. “I’m here to deliver mine.”
Every inch of my body screamed to whirl and face him—to reach out and snatch any scrap of information he deigned to give me, knowing full well it wouldn’t contain anything compromising against them. Instead, I lowered my voice into the same tone I used to lure a nomad home, running my fingers through my hair to loosen the waves.
“Don’t keep me waiting. I’m sure you’d rather not tolerate my presence any longer than I wish to tolerate yours.”
His snort of amusement threatened the hold I had on my mask.
I’d never been trained for this. We didn’t teach our witches how to survive these scenarios because, in a million years, we’d never needed to. Who the hell targeted healers, anyway? Aiming for the same passive boredom he always used, I lifted my gaze to him and found his pupils wide as they tracked my fingers working through knots, smoothing my long hair.
Quirking a brow, I demanded, “Well?” With one last toss, I looped my mane around my shoulder and divided it in two, beginning a long fishtail braid. My magic could do it, but there was something soothing about keeping my hands busy that I truly preferred it this way.
Now tracking the practiced tuck and twist of my fingers, Adrastos said, “The blight has spread.”
“Blight?” I questioned, and at last those rich brown eyes traced my edges up to my face. Something unreadable hid there. Melancholy in the vacancy. Hollow. The man looked hollow.
“The third horseman upon her black steed brings famine to the land. She turns the earth—and all who touch it—to ash.”
Control the food, control the people.
Control the medicine, control the masses.
Throat tight, I thought back to that day on the couch, Mags and I piecing together why our sisters were falling victim to such vicious attacks.
“And it spreads?”
“Come harvest, great expanses of agricultural lands shall yield nothing but death.”
His jaw was set so hard it could’ve been crafted of bronze. I said nothing. Just watched him suck down a harsh breath.
“The Great Commander wastes his resources in an attempt to locate his mate, though he now strikes down the king’s men with a precision that even the best warriors would envy.”
I’d seen as much. The injuries through the healer’s wing and corpses in the morgue spoke to that.
