Page 23 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

I thump to the ground and roll to the side. When I heave back to my feet, there’s no one there.

No riven-hunter. No person at all other than the men and Ivy all watching from the field.

The frantic haze clears from my head. I look down at my hands and find myself clutching the blackened body of a bird.

When I adjust my fingers, its burnt feathers disintegrate into chalky powder.

“Well,” Stavros says in a deadpan tone, “that answers at least one question.”

My gaze flicks over to him. “I didn’t want to kill a bird. I thought there was an enemy—you said there was.”

“I was simply wondering what might happen if you were sufficiently motivated.”

He’s eyeing me, giving his head the little shake that I’ve come to understand means he’s focusing harder. His face gives away no emotion now.

Is he pleased by how well I’d have tackled the supposed threat… or upset that I’d have gone so far?

Humans don’t make any sense. But if this one decides I’m a problem, he’ll campaign to leave me behind.

I don’t know what he wants from me. I can only say the truth. “If Ivy needs protecting, I’ll protect her.”

“And that’s good to know,” the woman in question says from over by the firepit. “Plus now we have a little extra for lunch. Why don’t you bring that bird over here, and we’ll see if there’s any edible meat on it?”

Her easy smile makes the men around me seem to fade. I stride over, holding out the bird, grateful for the chance to return to where I’d have preferred to be all along.

Ivy slices into the bird I apparently charred without any sign of concern about the power I inflicted on it. Her exclamation of victory when she finds cooked flesh within settles my nerves more, even though I can sense Stavros still examining me from a distance.

What I told him was true. I’ll protect Ivy from any danger that comes our way, however I need to.

Because I need her. Her strange remarks and unusual attitudes shocked me out of the spell the scourge sorcerers had me under. They gave me my first taste of how wondrous living in this body I didn’t ask for could be.

If I’m forced apart from her—if I lose her… how easily would my former captors make me their prisoner all over again?

Eight

Ivy

“Are you sure he said the ‘crossed trees’?” Stavros asks, pausing to swipe the sweat from his forehead.

The breeze licks cold across my own dampened skin. I rub the back of my neck, dislodging the strands of hair that’ve stuck there.

We spotted the peak of the mountain this morning, shining like silver where it jutted up just above the tree line. The sun was directly overhead by the time we reached the mountain’s foot, and we’ve been climbing for what feels like hours.

I can’t be sure of the exact time, since we’ve found ourselves in a part of Silana so remote that the peal of the nearest town bell was little more than a distant chime even before we started the climb.

The air has cooled as we’ve ascended, but the exertion has warmed us at the same time. The last section of the trek has been up terrain so steep we had to dismount and lead the horses in our weaving path across the rocky ground.

I peer through the brush around us for any sign of trees that would fit Kosmel’s description. “Yes. I remember every instruction he gave perfectly.”

Apparently dreams provoked by godlen don’t fade into vagueness like the regular sort. His divine voice burned itself into my memory.

Alek swipes his fingers through his thick hair, glancing around us. “The forest is dense enough that we can’t see very far through it. We could have already passed the trees by.”

I grimace. “He said to ‘climb straight.’ We set off from the exact spot where we reached the mountain, and we’ve only been veering a few paces from side to side. I don’t think it could be that far off course.”

Casimir hums to himself and then lets out a few coughs. Guilt jabs through my stomach as I turn to him.

“We should take a few minute’s rest anyway. Look, there’s a log over there where you can sit.”

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