“Verity, I’m sorry,” he says, forgetting Sadal.
I feel Thal’s arms slip around my shoulders and he lifts my chin up. “Let me see,” he orders gently. He urges my hands away and I obey reluctantly. I hiss in pain as he studies my swollen nose.
“How is it?” I ask, voice muffled and garbled. I taste blood.
“Not broken,” he says. His green eyes rest on Altair behind me and they go hard. “Control yourself.”
I glance over my shoulder as Thal leads me back to my horse. He passes me a cloth to staunch the flow of blood. Altair’s brows are crumpled, his eyes filled with guilt. I grimace.
Slowly, the group reorganizes, and Sadal is helped onto a horse. He grins through the blood and swollen, split lips. “What a way to start the day,” he chirps.
I furrow my brows at the mad man and almost feel sorry for him. If Altair hadn’t accidentally struck me and stopped beating Sadal, he could have killed him. We start through the pass, Thal leading the way since he’s travelled it before. I hang back, a little behind him and try not to frown when Altair rides to my side.
“I’m sorry,” he says under his breath. I can hear the shame in his voice. “I didn’t mean to. But what Sadal said,” he hesitates, “I couldn’t forgive it.”
“I know,” I murmur.
“Is your nose alright?” He asks hopefully.
I try not to smile. “It’s fine, a little sore. Thal says it will feel better soon since I will start to heal like the Fae.”
“He’s right,” Altair says, a hint of jealousy in his voice.
Thal slows and twists in his saddle to look at us. He forces a smile, but I see the anxiety in his green eyes. “Welcome to the wastelands,” he says, sweeping his arms wide.
I peer around him and gasp as the wastelands unfold before us. Deep orange and vibrant shades of red explode across the landscape. The sky is a bland brownish gray color, covered in clouds and storms of sand. It’s almost completely flat, broken up only by the short plateaus that level out the land. A thin, pale line snakes through the red and orange stone and soil; the old merchant highway. To the right, I can already see a few spires of old ruins, long buried in the sand.
A gust of wind stirs up the sand in the entrance of the pass, blowing it into our faces as the wind howls through the rocks. I shudder. Suddenly, the vibrant land isn’t beautiful anymore. It looks like a tomb. Thal stiffens his shoulders and his hand strays instinctively to his sword. I bite my lip and swallow hard. Travelling through the wastelands in search of the Shades doesn’t seem like such a wise idea anymore.
I feel gentle fingers graze my shoulder and turn to see Altair smile reassuringly at me. He lowers his voice, so only I can hear. “It will be alright.”
I smile, wincing as pain flushes through my nose. Altair starts forward, passing Thal. He leaves behind the safe rock walls of the pass and steps into the open space of the wastelands. The wind howls louder. Next the old Bloodbane follows, smiling and at ease. I tell myself that this is her home, and if she’s at peace, then it can’t be as bad as it seems.
Reluctantly, Thal and I follow, the others at our heels. I swallow thickly, biting back the fear that wells in my gut. I have no need to be afraid, I tell myself as I stare out at the sandstorms on the horizon. I’m a Bloodbane witch with magic and spells at my disposal, and I’m surrounded by the most powerful Fae on the continent. If I’m safe anywhere, it will be here.
I glance over my shoulder as I urge my horse further into the wastelands. The mountain almost seems to close up behind us, sealing us in, but I know it’s just a trick of the light. I bite my lip. I hope.
Chapter 11
Altair
The wastelands are not kind. Wind rages almost constantly across the flat landscape, and when it doesn’t, there’s an eerie sense of eyes constantly watching. I watch as Moritz stokes a fire to life in our campsite. He’s layered on the scarves and cloaks thickly as the night wore on, and now that the sun has set, the real chill has set in.
I take a bite of the jerky and bread we packed for the journey, eyes roving over the camp. We set up in the shadows a small ruin, just a few columns poking out of the red sand. A boulder sits a ways from camp, shining silver in the light of the moon. Our tents circle the fire, two sleeping mats laid out under the stars for Verity and Thal. I scowl at how close they’ve been laid, within arm’s reach of each other.
Pain and guilt flash through my chest as I spy Verity across the fire. Her nose isn’t swollen any longer, and the blood stains have been washed away by Thal’s gentle hands. I curl my hand into a fist unconsciously, jealousy rippling in my heart like a palpitation. Verity tosses her head back, laughing at something Thal says to her. I look away sharply, unable to stand it any longer.
I gave her up, I remind myself harshly. If she finds comfort, perhaps even more than comfort in another man, how can I be jealous? I grimace, grinding my teeth together. It would be best if that man weren’t my cousin. I almost laugh as I remember what Thal told me during Summer’s Eve, when I left Verity behind to finish important work; ‘someone might be there to pick up the pieces when you break her.’ He meant him. The bastard.
Pressure builds in my skull and I feel the curse swelling inside me.
