It’s taking too long. I can’t stop pacing. Harmon is watching me, his body as still as stone. It’s unnerving and annoying.
I stop and fix my attention on him. “Aren’t you worried?”
“Justice can take care of herself,” he says.
“I know that. I just … I have a really bad feeling about this.”
He makes a sound of agreement. “Me too.”
“Then join me in pacing, why don’t you?”
He shakes his head. “Conserve the energy for more useful things.” He unsheathes his ax from its holster at his back. “Like fighting.”
I look down at the dagger at my waist. “I need a bigger weapon.”
Harmon grins. “It’s not the size that counts, it’s what you do with it.”
“Funny guy.”
Around us, the camp is filled with the buzz of preparation. A parlay means the actual war is around the corner. It means the opposing army is in place. It means—
Pain rips through my head.
Kash.
Darkness swallows me, and I am floating. “Indigo?”
She is there but in ethereal form, her mouth open in a soundless scream.
I reach for her, and my hand passes through her form. The connection is weak. It’s not catching hold, which means she’s in distress. She’s multi-tasking, not able to focus on the weave.
“Indigo!” I stare at her mouth, focusing on the shapes she makes with her lips, and my heart freezes in horror.
But then she is melting away, and I’m falling back to earth.
I open my eyes to Harmon’s face hovering over me.
“You fainted,” Harmon says.
I roll away and shove to my feet. “They’re attacking. The fir bolg are attacking now.”
Harmon growls and is off, barreling through the camp, shouting out orders.
I run toward the weaver camp waving my arms to get their attention. “Get into position. We’re under attack.”
“Kash!” Joti runs toward me.
“No!” I wave her back. “Get into position.”
I veer off toward the hound camp and come to a skidding halt amidst huge, hulking frames.
One of the hounds looks at me questioningly.
I look up, gasping to catch my breath. “I need a ride.”
* * *
HARMON