Page 118 of Promise of Darkness
It makes my heart flutter in my chest, as if some part of me is aware of the danger. I don’t know why the fetch is in my dreams, but it feels like I’m staring out through its eyes.
It feels like this is not a dream at all.
“Fetch her for me,” Angharad says. “The Hallow is nearly resurrected. I’ll offer her heart to the Mother, and then She and I will make a deal.”
I whimper.
There’s no escape. All I can do is watch as the chanting begins to rise in tone.
“Vi,” someone whispers, and I turn into a warm embrace. “You’re safe. You’ll always be safe in my arms.”
“Please.” I’m tugging at something. Fighting my sheets. My flailing arms.
“Vi, wake up.”
There is no escape. I feel my body turn, stalking through the ring of sorcerers.
“Wake up,” says a whisper in my ear. Then there’s a soft curse. “Dream of me, Vi. Not them.”
A gentle mouth brushes against mine.
The sensation tears me in two. One moment, I’m ducking down a long corridor, and the next my eyelashes are stirring, a large, muscular form kneeling over me. I can taste his breath on my lips and feel the stroke of his tongue.
My fingers clutch at his shoulders as I wake with a jerk.
“Thiago.”
He wraps me in his arms, drawing me against his chest. “Shh, Vi. Shh. You’re safe.”
“I was inside the fetch,” I gasp. “And Angharad was speaking to me—to it, rather.”
He runs a smooth hand down my spine. “They can’t hurt you, Vi.”
“Yes, they can,” I snap. “They were speaking of using me as a sacrifice to resurrect the Mother of Night.” My heart still pounds. “D-do you think it was real? Do you think I was somehow seeing through its eyes?”
“It’s possible. Fetches create a bond with their mark. It’s how they track them. Perhaps it uses that bond to see where you are and what you’re doing. Perhaps you managed to follow the trail back to the hunter?” Every inch of Thiago goes still, as he strokes my back. “I won’t let them hurt you, Vi. I won’t let them have you.”
“How are you going to stop them? They can walk throughshadows.” I push to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself. “Sunlight is their only weakness, or the blood of the purest, whatever that means.”
Why me?
Why are they searching for me?
Thiago’s face turns hard and cold, and the tattoos that crawl up his throat writhe. “There are ways to counter a creature of the shadows. Trust me, Vi. It will not have you. No matter what I must do.”
28
Kyrian waits in his inner tower, staring out through the windows at the sea. There’s a compass in his hands, and its needle points due west, though he swiftly snaps it shut when we enter.
“Well?” Thiago asks.
The Prince of Tides turns to face us, his windswept brown hair tied at his nape and his shirt open to mid-breast. “I’ve found her. Angharad has her pet sorcerers working on the Spell of Unmaking. You were right. She’s up to something. They’re looking for a sacrifice to break open the Hallow at Mistmere.”
My blood runs cold. It’s exactly what I saw last night in my dreams.
Thiago exchanges a glance with me, but he doesn’t say anything. “A sacrifice? Why the Mother? If they thought they could break open a Hallow, I thought she’d go straight for the Horned One.”
“Who knows?” Kyrian replies. “The Horned One was a special case. Bran the Mighty linked the pair of them, then drove the Sword of Unmaking straight through his own heart. It was enough to trap the Horned One in a deathlike trance before they closed the prison. Perhaps Angharad needs some way to bring him back from the edge before she releases him?”
