Page 70

It didn’t seem like the most appropriate thing to say.

I felt his probing gaze on me as my face flushed. Before I could prompt any questions from him about it, I said, “If you hear me whistle loudly, that’s the signal that I need help.”

He cocked his head at me. “A whistle? That’s not exactly subtle.”

I scoffed. “Well, unless I want to alarm them, a scream won’t do. What do you suggest?”

“Why not a simple thrush call?” He puckered his lips and let out a short chirp, the sound clear and crisp.

I wrinkled my nose, wet my lips, and tried to mimic the sound. But it came out as more of a high-pitched chitter, as if a feral monkey had been unleashed.

Alaric let out a strangled noise that sounded like a choked sneeze, then immediately raised a hand to cover his mouth.

I gave him a bewildered look. “What the hell was that?”

He coughed, then cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

“Was that a laugh?”

“No.”

“That was the goofiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

“It wasn’t a laugh. I had something in my throat.”

I smirked at him. “Liar.”

He waved an impatient hand toward the encampment. “Will you just go? You’re wasting time.”

“All right. But in the future, maybe that sound should be our signal.”

As I descended the hill, I could have sworn I heard him chuckle. The sound bolstered something inside me, melting away my anxiety and filling me with confidence.

You are strong and you are powerful, said the voice inside me. And you can do this.

My heart gave a painful throb as Gran’s voice filled my mind. It had once been a reassuring presence, but now it was tainted by what I’d discovered about her.

Be quiet, I told the voice. I don’t want to hear you anymore.

I will always be a part of you, Cece, said the voice.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to respond. This was just what I needed, to get into an argument with the voices in my head. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to clear my thoughts before continuing onward.

It was my imagination and nothing more. If I ignored the voice, it would go away. My hands tugged at the fabric of my riding cloak until they found that familiar loose thread. I wound it around my little finger over and over again, and the familiar motion comforted my racing heart.

The faint lights grew closer with each step I took. As I neared the bottom of the hill, I discovered they were, in fact, candles.

Only… they were floating candles. They hovered mid-air as if attached to invisible threads connected to the night sky. A small tent rested behind each one, as if the lights marked the dwelling of every witch. Magic thrummed in the air, tickling my skin and making my own powers rise up in curiosity. Energy prickled along my fingers as my magic yearned to be released, but I pushed it back down.

Not yet, I told it. If I cast a spell right now, the witches might think they were under attack.

My palms started to sweat as I approached the nearest tent. A twig snapped nearby, and I jumped, my head whipping toward the sound. A single dark figure emerged from behind a tree, and I froze, heart pounding.

“Cerise?” hissed a voice.

My heart lurched in my throat. How did this witch know my name? I squinted, trying to see her face. She lowered the hood of her cloak, revealing a heart-shaped face and wild, graying brown hair. Her eyes were the color of honey as she surveyed me, her lips parting in surprise.

“Who are you?” I asked, backing up a step.