Page 180 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“The kelpie won’t hurt her,” Vaeril assures him quietly.

As I step forward towards the creature, I wish I was as confident as Vaeril was. The kelpie watches me, and I can feel his anger and hatred, but I keep going, lifting my hand. Stopping just a few paces from the edge of the pond, I am wholly aware of the fact he could easily grab me and drag me into the pool, pulling me to my watery grave. The forest witch is watching the whole exchange with interest, her eyes burning into my skin. Standing there, hand raised, I just wait, praying to the Mother that I’m not making a huge mistake. After what feels like a lifetime, the kelpie finally lowers his head and presses his forehead into my hand.

It’s an odd feeling, like touching ice but without the cold seeping into my skin. Last time I communicated with a kelpie, it sent me pictures, images, but this time, I hear a voice very clearly in my mind.Don’t forget your promise to my brother, he reminds me. He doesn’t threaten me, he doesn’t have to, I have a healthy enough fear of him as it is, of their endless hunger, but I know that if I was to go back on my word that I would pay for it. I remember the kelpie I met in the lake. He was separated from his family by a magical dam, and I promised I would try and find a way to free him.

The kelpie pulls away and stares down at me. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I nod my head one. “I haven’t forgotten.” This seems to be what he was waiting for, as he slowly sinks back into the water until only his red, glowing eyes are seen from the murky pond.

The forest witch chuckles, and the atmosphere in the clearing changes once again, our gazes all pulled back to her. We had been fools to look away and fear the kelpie. They are dangerous creatures, but we allowed it to distract us from the monster just paces away from us. Dread and fear flood my system as I watch the creature’s beautiful face change into something horrific, her mouth opening into a huge maw with rows of gleaming teeth as she smiles at us. “You’ve been warned. I told you to leave, but you stayed.” Her voice is different now, melodic despite the change in her appearance. “You should be safe, magic breaker.” She licks her lips, her eyes flitting to the guys behind me. “But your mates might not be so fortunate.”

“Run,” I whisper, but I might as well have shouted given the reaction of my friends. The singing starts immediately, and she was right, it doesn’t affect me now like it did before, now that I know how it works, but the same can’t be said for the others. Naril and Vaeril are faster, but I see their bodies shudder and jerk as they fight against the magic. Vaeril glances over his shoulder at me, realising I’m farther behind. “Go!” I scream, needing him to be safe. He seems to be more immune than Naril, who is frozen to the spot, his body trembling. “Get Naril, get out of hearing range!” I demand, yanking at Tor’s arm.

Turning to look at the tribesman, I see the pain on his face as he fights against the song. Each step he takes looks like he’s pulling the weight of a mountain behind him. I suspect Vaeril is more immune to the witch’s song thanks to his bond with me, but Tor and I have not completed that bond yet, so he doesn’t have that benefit. “Tor,” I call, my fear rising as I see his eyes go blank, his body straightening suddenly. “Tor! Look at me!” I shout, shaking his arms until I see the light return to his eyes, his focus and mind returning. Grabbing his hands, I place them over his ears. I know it won’t stop the song, it’s already in his head now, but it should help if I can get him farther away. Slowly, Idrag him from the clearing and into the forest until I reach the main pathway.

“I’m okay now,” he promises, standing straight as he lowers his hands, shaking his head. “What the hell was that?”

“A very old and powerful fae,” Vaeril answers, and I spin in surprise, seeing him and Naril making their way towards us with the horses following behind. Relief floods my system as I run my eyes over the two of them. They both seem uninjured, but Naril looks away from me, not meeting my eyes, and I realise he’s embarrassed.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mutters, and for once, I fully agree with him.

Ihate travelling, it’s official. As a slave, I’d spent most of my time working in the castle in the capital, except for my first year where I worked in the farms. So other than when I’d been manacled, blindfolded, and thrown into a carriage, I’d never travelled much in my life before I was freed. It’s boring, and I hadn’t quite realised how big the continent was.

I end up thinking about that phase of my life a lot. I have plenty of time to do so, after all. I think about the hours we spent labouring in the fields, burning and dehydrated in the summer sun and freezing in the winter. The weather in the north of Morrowmer is harsh, and the farms, which are situated just outside of Arhaven, have very little shelter. The farms were worse than the city, the beatings and the way female slaves were treated was awful. I’m not sure why I was moved to the city. The official reason was that I was too young, but at nine, I certainly wasn’t the youngest slave there.

“Are you okay?” Vaeril asks quietly from my side, his leg brushing mine as he brings his horse closer.

It’s been two days since we left the wood elves and had the encounter with the forest witch. Ever since, I’ve felt their eyes on me, as if they’re expecting me to fall apart or spontaneously start producing magic. I surprised them when I managed to break all of the witch’s spells. I’m stronger than they thought. The witch’s words scared me because I know they’re true, or at least they could be.

“I’m fine,” I insist, just like the other five hundred times they’ve asked me since the other day. He can feel my confusion down the bond, and me reliving my past probably isn’t helping. Feeling bad, I glance across at him and take in his frowning countenance. “Sorry.”

His face softens, and he reaches over, squeezing my leg. “We will figure everything out.” Ever since we sealed our bond, he’s been much more touchy-feely, and surprisingly, I like it. At least, I like it when he touches me.

Nodding my head in acknowledgement, I try to smile, wishing I could agree with him. “I just get the feeling something’s about to happen.” I see the others stiffen and turn on their horses to look at me as I speak, obviously eavesdropping on our conversation.

“Like what? Is the goddess trying to tell you something?” Vaeril asks, trying to pull my attention back to him. His voice is calm, but I felt his flash of alarm through the bond. That’s one of the downsides of having this connection, I can feeleverythinghe feels, and I have no idea how I’m going to cope with having three connections.

What about Eldrin?my traitorous mind points out, and I quickly try to shove those thoughts as far away as possible, but they drag up unwelcome feelings. I worry about Eldrin. The queen sent him away before we left to visit the wood elves, and then the attack happened and we were branded traitors, having to go into hiding. Even if Eldrin managed to escape the battle,how would he find us? Would he even want to? Plus, he has a complex relationship with the queen. Would he betray her and join us? Although she hates him, he’s been desperately trying to gain her approval for years, something she exploits. Even just thinking about her and the way she treats him makes anger bubble in my stomach.

Vaeril watches me with an unreadable expression as I think of his friend. I know he’s worried about Eldrin, and Naril has been almost unbearable since we left the wood elves, but there’s an unspoken question there. Why do I care? Do I care because he became my friend when he was teaching me to defend myself, or is there something more? Not that there could ever be anything more. I am bonded, I have a mate, and I have connections with two other men. Eldrin and I have no fated connection, we could never be anything more than friends.

“Clarissa?” Tor calls, and I snap out of my thoughts, pulling my gaze from Vaeril to glance over at the tribesman. We’ve not spoken much since he appeared the other morning and he discovered that Vaeril and I have sealed our bond. He once told me that he knows about my connections and he wouldn’t make me choose, but actually seeing it first hand is very different. Slowing his horse, he drops back so we can talk easier. “You have a feeling?” he prompts, reminding me of the original question.

Nodding, I sit back in the saddle as much as it will allow. “Yes, I can’t shake it.” The nagging feeling in my gut thatsomethingis coming is growing with each second that passes, but I can’t determine what it could be. Usually, I would feel a sense of dread or fear, but instead I just get the impression that whatever it is, it will be important.

Naril snorts ahead of us, his back to me as he rides. “Brilliant, some other disaster for us to deal with.” His tone is scathing, and Vaeril lets out a long-suffering sigh beside me.

Frowning, I reach forward and absentmindedly stroke my horse’s mane. “I’m not convinced it’s a bad thing… Just something…big.”

Snorting one again, Naril stops his horse and turns around to face me. “Well, that’s mysterious.” His face is set in a scowl. “I betrayed my race to follow you, and that’s all you can tell me? That something is going to happen? But you don’t know what, when, or why?”

His words make me flinch like he’s hit me. His expression changes as soon as he sees my reaction, like he wants to apologise, but he steels his features, faces forward, and encourages his horse to start walking once more.

Vaeril’s angry that Naril has upset me, but he’s also concerned at the change in his friend’s behaviour. Ever since the witch, he’s been distant, moody, and avoids spending any time alone with me. “Ignore him,” Vaeril suggests. “He’s worried about Eldrin. I’ll go talk to him.” Squeezing my leg again, he steers his horse over to his friend, and the two of them ride side by side.

Tor stays where he is, riding just ahead of me, but I’m still in his peripheral vision, enough that I have space to be on my own but still feel safe. It feels like we’ve been in this forest forever, and I fear we’re just walking in circles, but Tor seems to know where he’s going. Everything looks the same here, the trees all blending into one, and before long, I’m bored again.

“How far away are we?” I call to Tor, who glances at me over his shoulder, flashing me a smile. My stomach flips as I’m reminded why I like Tor. He’s not classically handsome like Grayson, or beautiful like Vaeril, but his grin and the way he makes me feel is way more attractive to me.

“We’ll be leaving the forest soon, and then we will be entering the mountains,” he answers, and pulls a piece of parchment from his pocket. Slowing his horse so we’re riding side by side,he unrolls the parchment and shows it to me. It’s a picture, and it takes me a couple of moments to realise what it is. “This is a map,” he says, confirming my thoughts. “We’re here.” He points to a dense patch of little triangles and lines that I realise are supposed to represent trees. The area is huge. “This is the forest. To the west is Galandell.” His finger moves across the map, and he points to a miniature sketch of the elf palace. “See this?” He points to a large swath of jagged lines that go across the right edge of the map from top to bottom. On that section are little triangles that look like crudely drawn tents. “These are the mountains, my home.” He smiles proudly as he gestures to the huge area of the map.

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