Page 39 of Bound By Darkness

“Stay close,” was all he said as we walked side-by-side down the street. “We’re grabbing a few supplies and then heading out.”

Did he react to anything? “Are clothes on the list?” I mused, the shirt I’d picked bunched into my pants. Gods, I hoped he said yes.

“I suppose proper clothes would be beneficial,” he said as his eyes scanned the market.

A finger lifted as he pointed to a caravan off to the side. It was packed with the most boring fabric imaginable, and not the caravan I’d wanted with the colorful streamers. “There. Let’s get you a few.”

My lips turned into a frown. Annoyingandcheap.

The caravan was even worse up close. I had the choice of gray, dark gray, or muddied gray.

“Let’s get two of those,” he said, his finger pointing to ashirt lacking any personal depth. I’d blend into the cobblestone street with it on.

The merchant nodded. “Sure. Anything—” The man paused, a finger pointing to him. “Your eyes,” he breathed.

Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Your eyes. They remind me—” But the man stopped, his eyes blinking rapidly as his lips pursed together. “Ah, sorry, I forgot what I was saying,” he said as he continued stacking clothes.

My eyes flicked to Ivan and he shrugged, equal confusion etched onto his face. As he continued picking clothes from the cart, my eyes wandered over the square as wind whipped my face violently.

Another gust slammed into me, shoving me a few stone from Ivan as my feet slid across the cracked road. My arms stretched out to keep myself balanced. “Did you feel that wind?”

Ivan didn’t turn to look at me from the caravan. His frame hunched over as he handed a few copper coins to the merchant, his crippled hand snatching the money from Ivan’s palm.

“Hey, I asked if you felt that wind?” I took a step toward him.

He didn’t budge.

My lips pursed together. “Now you’re ignoring me? That’s?—”

An icy hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks as I looked over at the hood, an older woman peering from underneath the black cloak. Her eyes narrowed as they met mine.

My chest stopped moving as I stared into the whites of her eyes, their translucent appearance drawing me into a trance.

My mother’s warning pounded in my ears as the woman’shand locked onto the thinnest part of my wrist, her sharp nails digging into the soft skin as she dragged me toward the enclosed tent resting on the outskirts of the bustling square, no one glancing my way as if we were invisible.

My mother spoke of them often—witches, their eyes soulless and void of pupils. My mother said they weren’t extinct as the Fae wanted us to believe. I wished she would have been wrong, because then I wouldn’t have stumbled upon one as she guided me to the red drapes of her tent.

My body refused to listen as I commanded it to halt—to run back to Ivan.

“Come inside,” her voice purred.

My feet stepped beneath a veil of crimson, and I cursed my body for listening.

She pried the black cloak from her face, dark waves spilling over her shoulders like a river of tar. She was not conventionally attractive, not by any standard, but the mysterious aura around her beckoned me to draw near.

“I—” My voice cracked as I glanced around the tent, beads of light floating underneath like fire pixies. They illuminated seven stones neatly placed on the table before me.

Her wrinkled hands spread over the table as she sat behind it, her eyes blinking under the glowing embers.

“You are different,” she spoke, her voice woven with smooth silk. “I smell your blood. The blood of our ancestors lingers there.” She lightly touched each stone, her hand stopping over an emerald blood stone pulsing under the ethereal glow.

“You must be in a predicament for the Fae gods to choose a blood stone—a blood stone with a twin,” she murmured, light sparking in her eyes. “Pray tell me.” She placed the gem in the middle,swirls of green and black pooling in the center. “What secrets are you hiding in your blood?”

Swallowing, I took a step back, my fingers reaching for the edge of the drapes.

“Ah, ah,” the witch cried, her bony hand extending. “Don’t you wish to know your future? I can tell you many things—whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you curl around my fingers like wisps of smoke, but something tells me you have no interest in those trifling things man has placed before you.”

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