Page 28 of Claiming Sarah

She frowned, having no clue what I was talking about.

I explained, “It’s the Earth thing, where I breathed into her lungs, and Deacon pumped her heart.”

“Oh, that’s what you two were doing?”

“Stay focused, Omen,” I growled irritably. “Are you doing this? Are you tricking everyone into making Sarah the Mother for some reason? The fuck is going on?”

She took a breath. “I would be happy to answer your questions, if you put the knife down.”

I narrowed my gaze. “If I put the knife down, you might think I trust you.”

“I promise, I won’t make that mistake,” she said in a wry tone. “Ever.”

Slowly, I moved the weapon away from her throat and sheathed the knife. “Talk.”

“I’m not manipulating Sarah into anything,” she insisted, taking a safe step back from me. “I presented an opportunity to Deacon, and he ran with it."

"Because you know we are obsessed with her safety. I know conduits are skilled manipulators, Omen. You always hated Portend, so it’s not too far a leap to think you would glom onto her successor.”

Her eyes bulged. “Wow. You think I’m that diabolical?”

“I think all conduits are.”

“Even Sarah?”

“You know what I mean,” I grumbled.

“I don’t believe I do.” She leaned against Valor’s fence, and I wondered if she actually felt it against her body, or if the gesture was a leftover habit from her former life, like when ghosts breathed. “I think you are so busy underestimating her, that you assumed shemusthave been manipulated into taking the test. You cannot fathom that she would want some power for herself.” She narrowed her gaze on me and said, “Some companion you turned out to be.”

I stiffened. “You think I’m so petty?”

“I think you are so insecure,” she countered, raising her chin. “You are united to a classed man and a royal-blooded Mother conduit. So, what do you bring to the table? Your wit?”

I inwardly winced. “Wow, thank you for sparing my feelings.”

She laughed. “Iamsparing your feelings, Jac. You don’t want to know what I wanted to say.”

“That’s probably true.” I leaned against the fence next to her. “It’s not that I’m insecure, Omen. It’s that…since I met Sarah, my whole world has been spinning out of control. I’m ecstatic one minute, terrified to my ghost the next. Every moment is a high or a low—"

"What’s this moment?” she asked, cutting me off.

“After what you said about my wit? A low.”

She giggled, reminding me of the clever girl I used to nail in the back of the temple on Orhon when we were young. Then she shrugged. “Sorry. But youdidput a bone knife to my throat. You had it coming.”

“Probably.” I sighed and rubbed my fingers across my forehead. “I’m tired of being scared, Omen. I just want things to settle down for a day, but—”

She abruptly pointed toward the forest.

A young Ladrian woman came down the path. She had a rucksack and wore a pink tunic and pants outfit. Her outfit matched her pink hair. Pale skin—almost as light as Sarah’s ivory skin. She smiled when she saw us, but I noted a hint of trepidation, too. It was a practiced fake smile.

I do not trust this girl.

“Hello there,” I said as I stood from the fence. “What business do you have in these parts?”

“I am in search of the contra,” she said.

I glanced to Omen, who stood shoulder to shoulder with me. She played dumb and asked, “The who?”

---