Page 6 of Bound By Deception

A high-pitched ringing began in her ears then, and her head started to ache as if a giant invisible hand were squeezing it.

Each step became more difficult than the last, and Bree leaned forward as if bracing herself against a strong wind, plowing ahead.

She had to make it to the other side. If she collapsed in the middle of the circle, she’d die.

Even so, keeping going was hard—harder than she’d expected. And as she moved forward, pain tore through her body.

Bree swallowed a scream, squeezed her eyes shut, and reached out before her, trying to part the air with her free hand and dagger. Sharp knives dug into her flesh, twisting and rending.

And through it all, she kept moving forward, step by painful step.

The ringing in her ears turned into a roar, dizziness assailing her. She staggered and nearly fell.

Only sheer, stubborn will and a toughness she’d honed over three centuries kept her going. She was a fighter. She wouldn’t let The Ring of Caith defeat her.

Even so, fear flowered inside her as she gasped for air. Ancestors, it was as if she were being turned inside out.

Screaming a curse, she lunged forward, clawing at the air before her.

Then something gave way, and the pain—the pressure on her chest and skull, and the roar in her ears—disappeared.

Bree pitched forward and fell onto her face upon wet grass.

Heaving in deep, shuddering breaths, she lay there for a few moments before raising her head.

Mist wreathed the hillside, and the air was colder and damper than earlier. A raven’s caw echoed through the murky dawn. When Bree twisted her head, she spied the dark outlines of the standing stones behind her.

She’d done it—she’d passed through The Ring of Caith.

She was now in the mortal realm. In Albia.

However, despite her relief at being alive, a chill washed over her.

Sitting back on her heels, Bree raised her hands before her, inspecting them. They were paler, her fingers a little shorter, than before. She then glanced down at the body encased in hunting leathers. The sleeves of her jerkin were too long, but the bodice and torso were too tight.

Pushing herself upright, she swore softly.

Her mortal bodydidfeel different. Weaker. Glancing down, she saw that her leather leggings had bunched at the ankles yet strained against her thighs and hips.

She was both shorter and heavier than in her Shee form.

Drawing in a steadying breath, Bree raised a hand before her once more. To her consternation, it was shaking.

Her jaw clenched at the sight.Shit. She hadn’t thought transforming into a mortal would make her this frail. She wasn’t prepared for the sensations that rippled through her either. Before entering the stone circle, she’d been on edge about this mission.

But now, dread squirmed within her like a sack of eels.

Her legs were trembling and hardly felt strong enough to keep her standing.

Was this what it was to live in a fragile Marav body? No wonder they were such an inferior race.

Gripping the dagger tight while she tried to suppress her shivering, Bree raised her chin, peering into the wreathing mist. “Gavyn!” she called out. Her voice was her own, at least, although it was huskier than usual. “Are you there?”

A heartbeat passed before a cloaked figure emerged from the mist. Behind him, the outlines of four other Ravens also appeared.

Pale hair glinting in the dawn, the captain of Mor’s bodyguard approached Bree in long fluid strides. His gaze raked over her, and then his nostrils flared.

Bree swallowed. “Just pretend I’m glamored.”

---