Page 21 of A Touch of Shadows

Not now. Not here. She shied back, horrified with the thoughts.

Not like this.

What kind of monster was the Nox trying to make of her? Revolted, she forced it away, trying to raise a shield of light as Elodie had taught her. All that she managed was a shaky barrier, barely a circle, but it was enough. The othertongue came thick and haltingly to her lips, but she forced herself to say the words, to drive back the darkness. Somehow she succeeded.

The desire the dark magic engendered in her slid away, making her feel broken and nauseous.

If he hadn’t come back. If he hadn’t tried to help her?—

Wren gave a sob of despair and curled in on herself. The shadows swept by them and she clung to any fragile light she could muster. The witchhunters were still looking for her. For both of them. Finn had said as much.

She should have just run. Hidden. Why hadn’t she done what she had always been told?

‘Are you hurt?’ It was Finn’s voice.

Everything hurt. Everything.

Shaking and clearly afraid, but somehow still strong, his hands closed under her shoulders, lifting her. He didn’t even know her name and he was still trying to help. What sort of man did that? For no reason, trying to help because it was the right thing to do. What sort of man?—

‘Stay with me. Can you hear me? It’s all going to be fine. We just have to—we just have to?—’

It wasn’t going to be fine. Nothing was. And she had no idea what he thought they just had to do…

Wren’s strength, such as it was, gave out, and she slumped down into the darkness in her own unconscious mind. She welcomed it.

CHAPTER 12

WREN

The smell of woodsmoke and the crackle of a fire woke her.

Wren was lying on the forest floor, wrapped in Finn’s cloak, her head resting on one of the saddlebags. Finn sat opposite her, gazing into the flames, as if his mind was a million miles away. She watched him, the light playing on his fine features, reflecting in his dark blue eyes.

She didn’t know where they were. Some distance away she could hear a stream, and a night bird called out softly through the trees. It wasn’t quiet. There was nothing of that deep empty silence of the darkwood. Just the forest at night, which was probably a good sign.

Her clothes felt loose around her body and she realised she was just wearing a shirt. Her tunic, leather jerkin and cloak were folded neatly on a rock nearby. Which meant someone had undressed her, presumably checking to see if she was wounded – not completely but enough, enough to realise…

Wren pushed herself up, and Finn started as if under attack, rising to a half crouch from sitting, a knife in his hand. That same knife. At least it wasn’t the sword still strapped across his back. He froze, staring at her, and sank back down to the ground.

‘You’re awake.’ His voice sounded rough.

She just nodded slowly. Her head was pounding and her body felt wrung out like an old rag. There was no sign of Dancer. Of Dancer’s body. He had moved them both away from the scene. He must have carried her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she tried to say. Her own voice came out in a hoarse croak.

Her hair whispered around her face, coming almost to her shoulders. She froze as she tried to push it back, to hide it.

‘You’re a girl,’ he said, and winced. ‘A woman, I mean. A?—’

‘A witch,’ she finished for him. ‘An apprentice, anyway. Not a very good one.’

Might as well warn him that she’d be no help at all. Before he got his hopes up.

He just raised his eyebrows.

She felt the urge to explain, but even then, it all came out wrong. ‘I didn’t mean to—I was trying to stop them and I—I failed, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get your horse killed.’

He slumped down again, the knife still in his hands. It was covered in blood. So were his fingers.