Page 77 of Seized to Sacrifice
Bastian took a step back, regarding them. ‘Gaila never said.’ He turned his attention back to her. ‘I know that you were expecting to be taken. You left me a message. Then you were gone. I have something for you.’ Excitement lit in his eyes. ‘Stay right here.’ He darted forward and hugged her again.
‘Who are you to her?’ Nyx growled, grabbing Bastian by his tunic.
He shook Nyx off. ‘A friend.’
‘Nothing more?’ Rye growled.
‘No. We were close, but friends only,’ Bastian said. ‘On the Mount, the rest of us were always … she never joined us.’ He grinned and looked at her again.
‘Wait here,’ he said again and then he was gone.
Elle was reeling. Someone else who knew her. She glanced at the others.
‘Gaila?’
They shared a look and she frowned.
‘Aye,’ said Rye. ‘Gaila the First. But we always called you Elle.’
A moment later Bastian returned. He held something in his hands.
‘I thought it might help to locate you, so I got it back from your priests. It's yours, but I can't even open it. It reflects even the strongest magicks.’
He made to hand it to her, but Rye snatched it first.
‘This could be a trick,’ he warned. ‘He could be an agent of—’
He broke off and Bastian didn’t have chance to say a word as Elle was whisked out of the tent. Nyx and Rye stayed on either side of her, practically carrying her back to their tent. As soon as they were inside, she whirled on them angrily.
‘That man knew me,’ she said. ‘He said we were friends. Who was he? You both know more than you're saying. Thorne does as well. I’m not some child to be coddled!’
She stamped her foot.
‘You don't know wha— who you are,’ Rye said. ‘Some things you must leave to us.’
She nearly growled at him, but Nyx stepped forward, drawing his hands down shoulders to calm her.
‘Elle,’ he said in a pleading tone, ‘please, we’re only trying to protect you. There are things that you won't understand yet. We're here working to find a way to get you your memories back so that you can … so that we can …’
Nyx clenched his jaw, not finishing his sentence. ‘You’ll see your friend again, but please promise me you’ll not do anything rash until we know more from Thorne,’ he begged, putting his forehead against hers and sighing.
Elle looked up at him. She liked his protective nature, but he was stopping her from doing something she knew she needed to do.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait for Thorne to come back and see if he's found anything.’
She drew away, wanting her own space for a while. She sat at the table and filled a plate with food. She hadn't eaten yet today. This morning she’d felt as if she might retch, perhaps because of whatever had come last night.
The men had known what they were. She knew they had. They wouldn't say anything, and it was starting to grate on her that they were keeping her ignorant.
The men stepped out of the tent together and she rolled her eyes. Did they think her a fool? As if she didn't know that they were outside speaking to each other of things they didn’t want her to know about.
The small lamp that Rye had taken from Bastian was on the table. Keeping an eye on the door, she went to it, inspecting it. It was a modest little object that fitted in the cradle of her hands, an old-fashioned oil lamp with intricate patterns woven through it. And as she looked closer, she thought that perhaps the patterns meant something, a language of some kind.
She hesitated. She’d said she wouldn’t do anything impulsive. But Bastian had said it was hers. She couldn’t go on like this. Making her mind up, she picked it up and pulled at the lid. Bastian had said he couldn’t open it, so she was surprised when it came off easily.
She looked inside, her heart beating like a drum in her chest, but there was nothing there. She closed it back up, disappointed. She should have known that—
She dropped to her knees, the lamp slipping from her fingers. There was nothing but blinding pain in her skull. Falling to the furs on the floor, she began to be flooded with images that overwhelmed her senses, made her gasp in anguish.
