Her lips are pursed, her eyes narrowed at me. She looks almost as nervous as I feel, though she’s doing a better job of hiding it. I take a deep breath. “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice too high and tinny.
“Collecting ingredients,” she says. Her voice is rough and husky while mine is clear like a bell.
“Oh,” I murmur, dropping my gaze to the scorpion. She seems sharp and unapproachable Shame wells over me and I shift my weight to walk away and hide behind my horse until we leave.
“Ingredients like this,” Cleo says, breaking the silence, “Are very rare.”
I try not to gape at her. She looks almost as surprised as me that she spoke. I lace my fingers together behind my back and take a deep breath. Birth mother or not, I don’t know her. I have nothing to be nervous about, I tell myself. I try to detach myself from the situation. “And which will you collect?”
“The venom.” Cleo produces a glass vial. “Much of the scorpion can be used in spells and potions, but the venom is the easiest to transport and the most versatile.”
I furrow my brows curiously and lean over the tail. “How do you get it?”
She grins slyly and carefully maneuvers the tip of the stinger into the bottle. With her free hand, she massages the stinger, coaxing the venom from it. I watch as the clear, thick venom slowly fills the bottle. Cleo caps it carefully, making sure none of the venom will spill out, and then tucks it back into her cloak.
“A venom like this can be used in killing spells and poisons,” she says smoothly, as if I was simply a student. “However, it’s also potent in love spells and can even be effective in healing.”
I listen as she goes on, explaining how venom and other dangerous ingredients work in tandem with human emotion to make effective spells of any kind. I watch as she speaks, noticing the way her brows rise and wrinkle depending on what she’s saying. Relaxed like this, she’s expressive. She pauses, as if noticing my stare.
I stick my hand out towards her, hoping it isn’t sweaty. “I’m Verity.”
Cleo stares at my hand, unmoving, long enough to make me consider pulling it back. But she finally takes it. Her slim hand is cool and dry like paper. “Cleo,” she murmurs.
We let go and I drop my gaze to the ground. She knows who I am. And she knows I know who she is. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. I want to know more about my past, my father. I want to know what happened to me. But the others are almost ready to depart, and the sun’s rays will beat on us soon. And, I admit, I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it from her. I glance towards Altair and see his eyes flit over me, as if checking to make sure I’m alright. My heart beats harder as I realize I want him by my side for this. My thoughts turn to the night and his confession that the curse was returning.
I look curiously at Cleo. “What do you know of curses?”
“Maaz always liked to think she was the expert on curses,” Cleo says, tossing her hair back. “The truth is, I was better.”
“Do you miss her?” I ask before I can stop myself. I pale, realizing just what I had asked.
Cleo cuts me with ger gaze and then scowls. “No. She cared more about Sadal than me.” Cleo looks ready to say more but turns away. “Now, what is this about curses?”
I nod, grateful she changed the subject. “The curse Maaz put on Altair is returning. He and I never completed the covenant. Is there a way to save him?”
“No covenant?” She echoes thoughtfully. Her lips tug down into a frown. “There may be a way, but it would take strong witches and a complicated spell to break it.”
“Shall we?” Erzur calls from her saddle, staring imperiously at us from across the sand.
I loose a long, irritated breath and start towards the horses. "I have to try," I tell Cleo, eyes slipping towards her.
Cleo grins at my words. “Then we’ll have a bit of fun.”
Chapter 13
Altair
Since the scorpion incident, I’ve assigned rotating watches. I know now the wastelands can’t be trusted, no matter how peaceful and unmoving the landscape appears above the surface. I shift inside my tent, staring up at the thin ceilings. Verity is outside, under the stars, and snoring softly. I smile, listening to her light breathing. It makes me think of what our future could have been.
I close my eyes, imagining it. Verity would be beside me in bed, dressed in a silk nightgown and curled up in my arms. Her soft snores would fill the silence in the room and lull me to sleep. I sigh, feeling sleep tugging at my conscious finally. A long day of travel has left my body stiff and sore, fatigue weighing on my bones. Now, finally, I can rest.
Suddenly, Verity’s snoring stops abruptly. My eyes open, drifting to the tent wall. Her breath comes faster, and I hear her blankets rustling. I rise, twisting to my knees and listening intently. I wonder briefly if Thal has come to her side and if he woke her. But her shrill scream drives that suspicion from my mind. The sound of her terror drives my heart into a powerful rhythm, adrenaline already in my veins.
I fly out of the tent, skidding in the sand to twist
