Niawen sits on the bank of the stream and unlaces her boot.
I haven’t touched her for seven years, Caedryn sighs as we watch her.
I haven’t either. She’s not yours.
A madness rips through my core. This does not come from me. The cat inches forward.
Ahnalyn dances through the grass toward Niawen. With a roaring laugh, she throws herself into her mother’s arms.
The cat closes its eyes for a breath, as if Caedryn is breathing in the moment.
Your daughter, I say.
She looks so much like her mother—
I hiss. But with your hair color.
“Kenrik?” Riahn asks. I feel her touch on my forearm. “Are you lost in another vision?”
“Yes,” I growl. “I need to stay with this one. Caedryn is up to something.”
Riahn releases her hold. “I will be right here should you need me.”
Niawen and Ahnalyn laugh together over something we can’t hear. I envy the child. Able to touch Niawen and laugh with her.
A pain coils deeply into my heart. This coming from Caedryn.
What do you mean to do? Fear tightens its hold on my lungs as the cat scooches forward. Don’t touch her, Caedryn.
The cat’s claws extend. You, dear Kenrik, are too late, Caedryn says.
I beg of you, don’t touch her!
I will, fool. You should have never left Niawen. You as good as dug her own grave.
I have to stop him. I open my sight to Caedryn, just so he can see exactly what I’m doing as I reach for my hunting knife. Vindication courses through me as I grip the blade. A smirk twists my mouth.
The cat freezes. Panic fills Caedryn’s voice. Drop it, Kenrik. Drop it!
It’s been a while since we shared pain, and I’m not afraid to use it as a weapon.
I will heal.
My vision of Niawen disappears.
The threat of injury must have released Caedryn from the mountain cat.
Niawen is safe, for now.
But I’m determined to punish Caedryn.
I raise the blade high above my head, grasping the hilt with two hands, allowing Caedryn to see every single second.
“Kenrik!” Riahn shouts.
“I know what I’m doing. Don’t stop me!” I shout.
Don’t do this! Caedryn begs.