Page 62 of A Touch of Shadows
‘Going to what? I did what you said. I ran. I got this far and I was heading for the Seven Sisters. I promise.’
Elodie flinched back, unexpectedly. ‘The Seven Sisters? Why on earth would you go there?’
‘You told me to.’
‘I most certainly did not. You’d have to be an idiot to go there. Especially now. Who’s been whispering in your ear? This Ilanthian bastard?’
Finn narrowed his eyes. Always the same insults, over and over again.
‘No,’ Wren protested, truly confused now. ‘No, it was the book. Your book. Your writing. You said to come south.’
Finn tried to ease back, to put more distance between them and Elodie. Wren wasn’t making sense. There hadn’t been anything in the book, had there? What was she talking about?
‘I did no such thing. We had a plan, Wren. We always had a plan. Take to the deepest parts of the forest and wait. Why didn’t you do that? You could have died. You could have been captured. And now we have to get out of here before Roland drags you off to the capital.’
She took a step forward and Finn moved to match her, still blocking Wren. He was knight-trained, a warrior and a killer all his life. Even with just his knife and his bare hands, he would be able to take out this slender woman. He had to protect Wren.
‘Don’t come any closer,’ he warned her. ‘The Grandmaster will want to talk to you.’
Her face froze for a moment, a mask of something like pain or grief. And then the scowl was back, deeper than ever.
‘Oh, I’m sure he will, but that’s not going to happen. Not now or ever.’
With the merest flick of her wrist, she threw something at him. Sparkling dust billowed around his face. He tried to jerk backwards, but it was too late. It filled his mouth and nose. In a moment it was inside him, inhaled on a gasp of surprise, scratching its way down his throat. Like sand in his eyes. He tried to wave it away with his free hand but it clung to him and everything blurred.
Wren… he needed to protect her. He needed… The world turned fuzzy and indistinct.
‘Finn?’ Wren said, trying to hold on to his suddenly failing body, her touch his only comfort. ‘What have you done, Elodie? What’s wrong with him?’
His legs lost their strength and folded beneath him.
No, this couldn’t be happening. He had one job. Her. She was all that mattered. Wren was all… He hit the ground hard, the knife tumbling from his suddenly limp grasp. The room around him turned indistinct and their voices muffled.
Vaguely, he was aware of Wren trying to shake him awake, of Elodie picking up the knife in her oh-so-elegant hand. She fixed all her attention on Wren, ignoring him completely. Why would she? He was no threat to her now.
‘Wren,’ she said firmly, a maternal voice that was not to be argued with. ‘Come here, little bird. Do as you’re told and, I promise, I’ll make it quick.’
Then everything slid to darkness.
CHAPTER 36
WREN
Finn’s name died on her lips, as she watched him slip into unconsciousness.
He lay there, sprawled like a fallen tree. At least he was breathing. Not easily though. It came in fits and starts, laboured and then faint.
Wren turned her gaze on Elodie as if she no longer knew her.
Elodie advanced on her, knife in hand. She’d said she’d make it quick and all Wren could see was the exposed vein in Finn’s neck, standing out as if protesting at all of this. He looked so vulnerable, helpless. She thought of Dancer, and Finn’s mercy killing. Of the way he’d begged her to do the same when he thought the shadow kin would possess him. It was nothing of the kind.
Wren folded herself over him and pulled on all the darkness in the room, gathering it to her.
She’d use it, even if she wasn’t sure how, even if she had to turn it against Elodie. She had done it before to protect him. And she would again. ‘I won’t let you kill him.’
Elodie shuddered to a halt, tendrils of shadow wrapping around her like Wren’s black hair. She gave a snarl of surprise and shook it off effortlessly. ‘So that’s what you think of me now? Thank you very much, young lady. Is this what you’ve been up to? Gathering dark magic? Very nice. Wonderful what you’ve learned from your new friends.’
She moved faster than Wren could have anticipated, grabbing Wren’s hair, wrapping it around her knuckles and dragging her forward onto her hands and knees. The knife flashed between them, so close to Wren’s scalp that she felt it like wind, severing the lengths of her hair as if they were made of the smoke into which they dissolved moments later.