Page 47 of The Girl in the Forest

“She remembers the experience of a twelve-year-old girl who came on a dare.”

I thought shadows darkened his eyes, and I looked away, then back again. “Is that what you remember, Grayson? The experience of a boy too young to have his wolf?”

No reaction. And the shadows were gone, replaced by a blank, icy glint that made me take a step back.

“The witches are already hunting you, tasting your emotions,” he said silkily. “You think this is a game of wits?”

“I’m not deluding myself. I know they’re witches.”

“Seers, Noa.”

I shot him a glance, hoping for defiance and not sure if I achieved it when Grayson’s mouth tightened.

“They’re watching you now. Drinking in everything you reveal. How damp your skin is, the rapid beat of your heart. The air in your lungs.”

His voice took on a dark quality, low, as if he knew more than I ever would and wanted to frighten me. It was working. “They see your past. And they’ll twist it like Mosbach did. Give you an explanation that sounds so reasonable, you’ll doubt what you know. You’ll be trembling, terrified and ready to beg.”

Mace! He must have told him how I’d felt with Mosbach, ready to beg, and the ragged sound I heard was my breathing. “Can they get into my head?”

“They won’t need to—you’ll be more than happy to give them what they want, and they’ll use every word for their own purposes.”

“Fallon said to show fear, entertain them.”

Grayson tipped his head. The movement was slow, lethal, rippling with power. “You think theatrics will satisfy them? They’ll try to break you.”

But I’d had enough of his intimidation. “The way they tried to break you?”

I could have sworn lightning leapt from his skin to mine. “Are you stronger than witches, Noa?”

His gaze was darkly acidic, burning against my skin. I ignored it. Didn’t dare react to it. I’d been foolish enough, thinking he’d stop fighting me when he thought I was wrong. But he was stubborn, and I wanted to read a book more than I wanted to admit he’d make this more difficult. Because we were here, standing within reach of witches who were already tasting me. Scouring for ways to frighten me, and he was giving them everything they needed.

“I want answers,” I said.

“You might not like what you get. Nothing will protect you. Not even the Green Man’s runes on your skin.”

He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, covering the black wolf sigil and pressing hard. I yanked my hand free, stung by his willingness to provoke. But a muscle ticked in his jaw. In his bi-colored gaze, I read something else: lie, lie, lie.

The possibility tapped at the back of my mind that everything he’d just said was a warning. A way to make me remember what he—and Fallon—said about the witches. How fear was a test and I should cheat.

I stiffened, readjusting the backpack before heading toward the light brightening in the distance. Every sound made me jumpy. Each subtle change in the air lifted the tiny hairs at my nape. In the dark, my thoughts raced, and the crawling sensation along my spine might mean nothing… but it was there, and I wondered if what unnerved me came from being watched by Gemini Witches I could not see.

Then it was a rock I couldn’t see. Stumbling, I couldn’t stop the wince as my ankle twisted. Sucking in a breath, I tested the pain with a gingerly step. Workable, as long as I didn’t have to climb uphill. Then again, I supposed things could get worse when Grayson glanced back and narrowed his glance. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I lied, staring at the steepening path ahead. I’d asked him for this—insisted he bring me to these witches. He hadn’t wanted to do it, his face cold and strained when we argued. Given my hesitant steps, he could have kept arguing, using my weakness as a reason to turn back. But Grayson remained quiet, lengthening his stride and mercifully ignoring the limp that worsened as I lagged behind.

Moments later, we left the passage and entered Alpen territory. I rubbed sweaty palms against my jeans. The boundary magic was undetectable, and I asked about it.

“There’s a gap in this sector,” Grayson said. “The witches weaken the wards for their customers, and smugglers take advantage.”

“Doesn’t the Alpen send out patrols?”

“They don’t go near the witches, and they don’t bother with smugglers since Mule’s Point gets a cut of the profits.”

“Mule’s Point?” I’d not heard that name before, but Grayson said it was Alpen’s seat of power, built on a bluff above the river. Someone named Mule built the first ramshackle house, and the name stuck. “Is it far from here?”

“Three days for a normal patrol. Twice that if the weather’s bad.”

“No wonder the smugglers like it,” I murmured, although I wasn’t talking about the weather.

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