Page 88 of Drawn in Blood
“And the boys?” Rowan asked. “They’re good?”
Ember felt heat bloom in her chest. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to them.” She fished the broken phone out of her pocket, waving it sarcastically in the air.
“Better not let Helvig see you with that,” Rowan chuckled. “He doesn’t like anything modern. I had an ink pen when I got here, and he made me throw it away. It’s like he’s stuck in the 17th century or something.”
Ember shook her head, finally cutting her eyes toward the curly-haired girl. “What do you want, Rowan? Really. Why are you pretending like everything is okay?” She needed her tounderstand that she hadn’t forgotten what she did, the way she betrayed her. As far as she was concerned, her best friend was long dead.
“I just wanted to apologize, to try to start over,” the girl replied, “to see if we could be friends again.”
Friends.
She rolled her eyes, gripping the pendant swinging around her neck. “I admire the confidence you had thinking that would work in your favor.”
She heard Rowan sigh, standing up from the sand to walk away, but didn’t bother to meet her gaze. She hesitated at the edge of the grass and turned around. “You need to be careful, Ember,” she almost whispered. “Not everyone here has your best interest at heart.”
Ember felt the hairs on her arm raise.
Was that a threat? Or a warning?
Chapter 29
Eldfjall Castle
Silver hair whipped back and forth in the wind as a song floated through the trees, not even the raven on her shoulder daring to interrupt. She scrubbed the crimson stained shirt with vigor, her lilac eyes never leaving the cloth as she sang.
Trí stoirmeagus farraige caillimid cé muid féin,
Ach amháin le fáil ag réalta tar éis titim.
Snámh i dtreo an chladaigh i bhfad i gcéin,
óir níl aon áit caillte againn níos mó.
Trí fear tareis fás agus foraoisí cosc,
Sin an ait a bhfaighidh tú na daoine óga, goidte agus i bhfolach.
Thar na gcnoc is na gcloch liath,
Sin an ait a rachaidh sibh go léir isteach sa chraic.
Ember tried to say something,anything to get the woman’s attention, but she couldn’t get the words out no matter howhard she tried. She walked closer, her legs feeling like they were made of lead, shaky and unstable as she forced them forward. As she drew nearer, the woman suddenly stopped her scrubbing and her song and looked up at Ember. Her eyes locked with Ember’s—wide and wild, her perfectly symmetrical face almost ethereal against the light of the moon.
“Their fate is in your hands now,” she almost whispered. “We’ve been waiting for you, Ember Lothbrok.”
Ember shot up in bed,sweat clinging to her skin as the cold February air drifted through the open window. A chill ran down her spine as she reached for a jumper at the foot of her bed, yanking it over head and wrapping her arms around one another. She climbed out of bed, quietly latching the window closed as she looked over to Theo, who was sound asleep under the covers.
From the first night in their new home, Theo had taken to sneaking into Ember’s room, unable to fall asleep on his own. The first morning, she woke up to him curled up with his pillow in a chair in the far corner, and then the next night, he was on the floor beside her bed. The night after that, he had made his way to the foot of her four-poster bed, until he eventually started sneaking in after Gaelen had tucked him in, climbing in bed beside Ember while they read together.
She quietly snuck out of her bedroom, leaving the door partially ajar as she tiptoed down the large staircase. Even after two months, she still got lost regularly in the large chateau. A labyrinth of hallways and staircases spiraled through the home, a maze that made finding her way through in the middle of the night borderline impossible. But she was thirsty, and she needed to forget about that dream—and that song.
So, she walked.
She made it down to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water from a jug in the icebox and sat at one of the stools pushed up under the island in the middle of the room. She tried reading a book Gaelen had left sitting on the counter, tried humming to herself or reciting Sigils and Runes equations, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get that damned song out of her head.
She also couldn’t shake the feeling that it was less a dream and more a warning.
She washed her cup, placing it quietly on the drying rack and headed out of the kitchen to try and get some more sleep. Somewhere between the kitchen and the stairs, she got lost and found herself wandering down a narrow hall she was certain she hadn’t seen yet. Some sort of servant passage, it seemed. The walls were stone, lit by medieval looking sconces every few feet. She suddenly felt transported back in time, like she was in some fairytale, escaping the beast who had her locked in a tower.
