Page 159 of A Warrior's Fate

“House. Bak. Entrance?” Isla read the words aloud, voice wavering with uncertainty. What the hell did all this mean?

She stiffened as she felt a sudden coolness at her back, and a shiver rocketed down her spine. Her heart stopped at the raspy sound, a word spoken, that echoed in her mind.

“Traitor.”

The wind-like breath that she swore caressed her ear was like ice on her skin.

Isla snapped her eyes up into the mirror, a gasp ripping from her throat as she found the silhouette of a dark figure lingering in the corner of the room by the open window. She whipped around, clutching onto the bureau to brace herself. The action of fear was at odds with the snarl on her face, the glow of her eyes, and the claws at her fingertips.

And whatever—whoever—it was, had disappeared, leaving nothing in their wake but a billowing curtain and a blood-stained adornment on the mattress.

The other half of the diadem.

CHAPTER 35

Isla.

Her name was an echo from a void. One she could sense at the end of a long stretch of ebony cord, twined with gold in an unbreakable stitch, drawing together two halves of a weaver’s blanket. It was a tightrope to teeter along, a road to walk, into a darkness unknown but…comforting.

Isla.

The cord thrummed, and shadows of the abyss drew closer, snaking along the path, swallowing the glow in tendrils until they reached and threatened to envelop her entirely. Coiling. Tightening.

Isla.

She winced.

The icy binds dug in, sharp. Familiar but foreign. Overpowering as they tried to wriggle into her mind. Break in. Draw from it. Find that piece. That link like a doorway.

Isla’s instinct kicked in, and she reinforced that wall, the barrier that protected the most precious parts of her. Ones she’d never had to guard while in her human form when that bridge wasn’t exposed.

Isla.

The wall shattered.

Panic rose, manifesting with a worry lingering and powering the darkness. Not from her, but another.

“Isla!”

Wait.

Isla blinked back into reality, staring into the empty corner before her in the room. She brought her hand up to her head and scratched at her scalp.

She knew that voice. Loved that voice.

“Kai?”

The shadows dropped into nothing but smoke, and the bond became a patchwork of radiance once more.

The relief that flowed between them was mutual.

“Are you okay?” His voice filled her head as if he were standing right beside her, and any fear Isla had felt slowly ebbed away. “Where are you?”

She couldn’t believe it.

They were actually doing this. Communicating through the bond. Not only with pushes and pulls but with actual words. She wasn’t alone in this room. She never would be—anywhere, ever. Not as long as this road lay between them.

“I’m fine.” She sent the words with a tinge of uncertainty, afraid the ability wouldn’t work a second time. “I’m in Callan’s room. Three doors down from mine.” There was no response, but Kai’s emotion on the other side felt stronger than it ever had, resonated much clearer. “He’s not here.”

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