From the Darkness Comes: The Darkness in the Midst, #1

By Joy Demers

Revenge is not for the faint of heart.

Cadda ni Caridos is a revenant who desires nothing more than finding the man who made her that way – the same man who killed her father and captured her mother. The glowing eyes, night vision, incredible strength and speed that came out of resurrection might seem like a boon, but when she can't control her abilities and starts bringing death to others, she realizes it's a curse. Cadda must dodge the authorities while searching for her father's murderer, a man who turns out to be a powerful duke, and the only person to know the fate of her mother.

Always one step away from the king and his elite order of bodyguards, Lord Kenric Dorsile is near impossible to get close to, especially for a lowly foreigner like Cadda. While scheming a way to do just that, Cadda is finally caught by the authorities. Being conscripted into the army as punishment and sent to the far edge of the kingdom to defend against barbarians – the enemy of her enemy – proves to be a mammoth of a challenge. Cadda must find a way to return to the capital, even if that way includes personally fanning the flames of war. Otherwise, she risks losing her mother forever and forfeiting the right to avenge her father and herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joy Demers
• Release date: Feb 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9798201736927

Joy Demers

Joy Demers is a writer from the north, a.k.a. Canada. She is a self-proclaimed geek with a love for fantasy, certain video games, history, and crochet. By day, she works in a finance department, crunching numbers and paying bills. By night, she tries hard to stay awake and write. Joy lives with her cat in a small Canadian town.

Book preview

image-placeholder

FROM THE DARKNESS COMES Copyright © 2019, 2020 by Joy Demers

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design

First Edition: February 2019

Second Edition: February 2020

Contents

1. Chapter One

2. ***

3. Chapter Two

4. Chapter Three

5. Chapter Four

6. Chapter Five

7. Chapter Six

8. ***

9. Chapter Seven

10. Chapter Eight

11. Chapter Nine

12. Chapter Ten

13. Chapter Eleven

14. Chapter Twelve

15. ***

16. Chapter Thirteen

17. Chapter Fourteen

18. Chapter Fifteen

19. Chapter Sixteen

20. Chapter Seventeen

21. Chapter Eighteen

22. Chapter Nineteen

23. ***

24. Chapter Twenty

25. Chapter Twenty-One

26. Chapter Twenty-Two

27. Chapter Twenty-Three

28. Chapter Twenty-Four

29. ***

30. Chapter Twenty-Five

31. Chapter Twenty-Six

32. Chapter Twenty-Seven

33. Chapter Twenty-Eight

34. Chapter Twenty-Nine

35. ***

36. Chapter Thirty

37. Chapter Thirty-One

38. Chapter Thirty-Two

39. Chapter Thirty-Three

40. Chapter Thirty-Four

41. ***

42. Chapter Thirty-Five

43. Chapter Thirty-Six

44. Chapter Thirty-Seven

45. Chapter Thirty-Eight

46. Chapter Thirty-Nine

47. Chapter Forty

48. Chapter Forty-One

49. Chapter Forty-Two

50. ***

51. Chapter Forty-Three

About the Author

Books by Joy Demers

Chapter One

I hadn’t seen such a grim sight since the day I died.

No one stood outside the city, unless the dead hanging from the walls counted. The eyes of the corpses had been picked clean by crows, and intestines hung out of one body, half eaten and oozing blood and guts. Nearing the city, I averted my gaze, fighting the memories the scene stirred in me. Resisting the urge to run.

The decaying corn fields leading to the wall held nothing but those cawing crows. Satiated and fattened, they perched mockingly on the thatched roofs of farmers’ hovels. Not a kernel remained and no one peeked out from behind rotting doors. Amidst all that ugly lay ripe tomatoes, red as the dripping blood. They’d rot soon, if nobody harvested them. What a waste.

A flurry of movement at the gates captured my attention.

Halt, stranger! Don’t take one more step.

The rough, hard accent confused me. I didn’t know how to respond, so I held my hands spread out to the side and empty. I hoped they would understand I meant them no harm, but there was no telling the mind of a Ledonian.

More movement and noise sounded from behind the gates. Somebody approached, dragging their feet as if they were wounded. The wooden gates creaked open a crack and a hand beckoned me forward.

Come closer, the same voice said.

I moved forward.

Slowly!

So I slackened my pace, noticing for the first time the archers upon the wall with their bows and arrows trained onto me. I kept my hands in view and ignored the archers. Better not to give them a reason to shoot me.

Reaching the gates, I halted. No way was I going to squeeze through that crack. The Mother Creator only knew what lay behind. A sword? An axe? Another archer ready to shoot me down?

I didn’t have to, in the end. The man that had shouted at me came through. He wore an old coat of rusty chainmail and a sword at his hip. His gaze was curious, like I was an oddity from a Ledonian noble’s menagerie. Of course, I was – an oddity, at least.

Who are you?

Is this Ledonia City? I pronounced each word with care. He stared at me so dumbfounded, I wanted to make sure he understood me. He continued to stare.

Excuse me? he asked, rubbing his stubbly chin.

Is this Ledonia City? I stared back at him. Did I have to be more specific for the dimwit? The capital city of your kingdom? Where the king sat on a gilded throne in a palace of exquisite beauty and luxury. Or so I’d read. For all I knew, the palace was one of squalor and the throne a glorified wooden piece of dung.

It started as a rumble and then grew into full blown laughter. Not just from the man before me but from whoever lay behind the gates. I didn’t appreciate the ridicule. With a fierce look of remonstration, I let my hand hover over the hilt of Niri. This only added fuel to the laughter. I turned around, ready to find a way around this place which clearly was not Ledonia City.

This arsehole of a town is called Elderbrooke, the man said.

I swiveled around to face him. His laughter ceased but his eyes watered from the embarrassment I had caused myself.

Ledonia, the man repeated to himself, shaking his head and clearing his eyes of the tears of laughter. You mustn’t be from around here to mistake this place for the glittering capital. And from the looks of you, you aren’t from around here.

I ignored his questioning gaze. I didn’t know how much to trust any Ledonian; after all, they had attacked my village. This man before me could have been part of it, with Elderbrooke being the closest Ledonian town to where my village used to stand. I folded my arms and nodded toward the dead men hanging from the wall.

What has happened here?

The man glanced where I gestured. Blasted marauders. He spat on the ground, all amusement fleeing from his face. Thieves and murderers, the lot of them. They tried to attack us, again. But we held them off. Chained the bloody bastards whom we caught to the wall, and let the birds finish them off.

There is an army behind those walls?

He looked at me like he was about to laugh again, but then decided against it. Just the town’s garrison. Why do you want to know? Are you one of the marauding scouts? If so, there’s nothing here, lassie. Go away.

I am curious as to why the king does not aid you from these roaming bandits.

The man bunched his brows in my direction. Treason, perhaps, lay at the tip of his tongue. But in the end, he would not speak against his king, not to a stranger who could have been a spy. What brings you here? The countryside is a dangerous place for a woman alone.

I would give him a partial truth. My village was attacked. Five years ago.

Yours and every other village in Ledonia.

I was hoping for answers. I was looking for my mother.

You’ll not find any here, but you will find a warm meal and a soft bed for the night, should you wish it. The man strode back to the gates and pushed them open wider, welcoming me to Elderbrooke.

I shook my head. I did not want to go into that town. The walls were large and looming and they held death. The thought of spending a night with these strange men suffocated me already. They looked at me as if I were an exotic creature that could amuse them at their whims. No, I would not risk a night there. My heart sank.

There are wolves out there, the man said. His eyes softened. He meant more than just the beasts by his warning. As if that would change my mind.

I showed my back to Elderbrooke.

And I am one of them.

***

Long ago, the world was one realm. Nothing but vast, empty plains existed. Then the Mother Creator arrived from the Light. She saw the potential for the land and created the sky, the earth, the oceans, rivers, streams, and mountains. She breathed air into the emptiness and birthed trees and vegetation. She gave life to the animals, birds, and sea creatures.

But something was missing. Wanting a caretaker for the new world, she created in her own image two races of humans. The First Ones were lumbering giants, tall and wide, slow in the head, but ever peaceful. The second race was smaller, but clever and resourceful, and more to her liking. They were called the People.

Though the First Ones were not her favorites, they showed gratitude for life and all things the Mother Creator had placed in the Realm. They prayed to her, left her offerings, and made sure they took only what they needed from the land.

The People, on the other hand, lived in ignorance of what she had done. The Realm was in perpetual summer, abundance and fertility reigned. The People took without thought, offered no prayers to her, and arrogantly decided they did not need her. The Mother Creator, pained by this, decided to teach them a lesson. She birthed twin daughters, Aiia and Ientu, and left them in the care of the People.

Chapter Two

Another day and more walking. The ground transformed beneath my feet. One moment I walked upon soft and mossy earth, and the next my boots thudded onto hard stone. The stone went on far into the distance. No natural bedrock, this had been laid down by man, fitted, shaved, and cemented onto the ground. It was a road, a real Ledonian road.

I lowered myself, spreading my arms out on the stone. The road stretched out wide and level. Ledonian caravans could travel from anywhere in the kingdom on these stone paths. Journeys by foot or on horseback were made all the easier. The roads were a marvel. How many men did it take to build them, to keep them passable?

Roads also made it uncomplicated for the army or marauders to travel and to attack helpless villages. I stood and brushed a thin coating of dust off my knees. Admiring such practicalities would not aid me.

I continued onward.

After a while, voices and shouts in the distance slowed my steps. Ahead of me, the road curved and a tall pine with a thick trunk blocked my view. The voices grew louder, more frantic. Reaching the pine, I felt the trunk for any foothold or grasping point I could use to climb. I found a low hanging branch – dead – but with any luck it would hold. Dropping my pack, I hauled myself up. The shouts rose in volume. The branch cracked under my weight. I climbed higher into the tree. Sticky pine sap oozed onto my hands. But finally, I could see.

A small caravan of two wagons, each pulled by two horses, and about a dozen people, were stopped on the road. Marauders, perhaps the ones I’d been warned about, surrounded the group. Some of the fiends threatened with blades while others searched through the caravan’s possessions.

We have nothing for you to steal! one woman pleaded in the language of the south. She dared to place a hand upon the marauder who rummaged through a wagon. The marauder shoved her to the ground. The lone child, a small boy, raced to the woman’s side.

My chest tightened. The marauder laughed. A redheaded man balled his fists, ready to lunge at the nearest marauder. Not a wise idea, for the marauder held a blade at the ready, hovering in the air between him and the redheaded man’s neck. A woman beside him, also redheaded, held the man back.

I spit in my palms and rubbed them together to get rid of the pine sap. I loosened my bow from my shoulder and grabbed an arrow from my belt. With deft hands, I nocked it to the string. Cries of protest rang out below me as the marauders pushed the party around. It didn’t take long before cries turned to shouts and shoves to punches. I aimed for the man who had shoved the woman to the ground. His back was a wide target.

I had to stop the marauders. In my mind, they were the invaders of my village, my father’s murderers. The woman shoved to the ground was my mother, and the little boy my unborn sibling. I didn’t think of what could go wrong; I thought only of saving them. And with those thoughts, the glow came to my eyes.

The arrow flew from my bow and struck home. The man clawed at his back, a strange gurgling noise overcoming the silence my arrow created. He fell forward, dead. Before anyone could react, I loosed another.

Like a rabid wolf, I hunted the marauders, raining down death upon them.

The men from the caravan weren’t surprised for long. The redheaded man grabbed the sword away from the marauder, killing the man before he could even blink. The redheaded woman axed a nearby marauder and chaos took over.

I continued to shoot at the marauders. They were rough looking men, with scars and fierce expressions. But their shock at the party of travelers turning the tide on them did not last. They fought back with vicious strength. The marauders outnumbered the defenders, but my arrows hindered them. Arrows were not limitless or countless, however.

My last arrow whirred away from the intended target. A marauder grabbed my foot. He yanked hard and I slipped from my perch,catching hold of a branch before falling.

Why hadn’t I noticed him? He smelled awful, like a rotting deer carcass.

The marauder pulled again and grinned. Some of his teeth were missing. I’d gladly add to the gap. I kicked at his face. He ducked and mocked me with a sneer even uglier than the grin.

He caught my free foot and tugged.

This time, I fell.

I landed hard on my back, getting the wind knocked out of me. My bow flew from my grip and pain seared through my limbs. Sparks danced in my vision, replacing the glow as I gasped for air. This man would regret coming after me. Niri lay strapped to my belt. I reached for its hilt just as the marauder stood over me. The marauder’s sword tip rested far too close to my neck for my liking.

My hand wrapped around Niri, molding to it as if it were made for me and not for my father.

Don’t even think about it, bitch, the marauder said.

I wanted to drag the sword out and gut the marauder like a fish. But I froze. I couldn’t draw Niri out. Not only because it required me to sit up into the marauder’s sword to pull it out, but because a feeling of unworthiness overcame me.

My father had wielded this blade. He’d carried it in battles too awesome to even fathom. The freedom of my people was won with it. They’d called him a hero because of this blade. And what had I done? Did I even deserve to be in possession of Niri?

Not so very brave now, are we?

I looked into the marauder’s cold eyes. The eyes of a killer. My reflection glared back at me – a girl, on her back, frightened not at the prospect of death, but at the thought of being unworthy.

How absurd.

The marauder pressed the tip of the sword to my neck. Niri’s hilt felt cold. But I wasn’t going to go down like this. I wasn’t going to let all my dreams dissipate into a cold and lonely death. Been there, done that. Honestly, a cold and solitary life terrified me more.

With a howl to shame a wolf, I lifted my legs, pushing the marauder and his sword far enough above me to unsheathe Niri. I aimed for his belly and drew back to stab, expecting to be drenched in guts.

Instead, splashes of warm brains hit my face. An axe decorated the marauder’s skull. The redheaded woman pulled out the axe and pushed the marauder aside.

I had him, I said. The marauder should have been my kill. I would have killed him. Really, I would have, no matter my ridiculous hesitation.

She reached out to me. Blood spots mingled with her freckles and spattered her skin. But her smile was warm. I accepted her hand and she pulled me up.

I walked to where my bow lay and picked it up. Thank you, I said, grumbling and slinging the bow over my shoulder.

Her brown eyes trailed my movements, a curious look on her face. Nay, I should be thanking you. Your arrows were like lethal raindrops sent from the gods. You saved us.

Praise was something I did not expect. I had only done what was right. The woman chuckled at my embarrassment.

Look, she nodded to the road where the wagons waited, the bastards have fled, without our things.

I followed her gaze. The marauders were gone, though a few of them would stay on that road, if not forever, then until somebody swept away their bodies. People sifted through the mess the marauders left behind. One man wept over the body of a younger, crying out my son over and over again, each time angrier than the last.

You have lost someone, I said, turning back to the woman.

She shrugged. They lost more. ‘Tis a tragedy, of course. I didn’t know the lad, but the gods will keep his soul safe, for he fought bravely.

You travel with strangers?

We come from Elderbrooke. We thought taking to the road in large numbers would protect us. I guess we were wrong. The woman’s gaze roved over the dead marauder. Are you hungry?

She meant to eat the man. Why I thought that, I couldn’t be certain, but one never knows with a Ledonian. My stomach responded to her question with a rumble. I crossed my arms over my stomach, attempting to silence it. The woman didn’t seem to notice. She walked over to the marauder she’d axed and pried the sword from his death grip. She examined the blade, holding it up to her chin and looking down its length. She felt it with her fingers and then swiftly, she tied it to her belt.

I don’t know about you, but fighting makes me hungry. She walked toward the wagons, pausing to look over her shoulder at me. Are you coming?

I didn’t know her name, this woman who hailed from Elderbrooke, who swung an axe as effortlessly as a woodcutter and dressed like a man. I should not trust her any more than I had trusted her townsfolk. But she had saved my life. And so I followed her.

Chapter Three

The mother held tight to her son. The ambush had long been over but she had the look of fear in her eyes still. Afraid that she would lose her son, that the marauders would return and she wouldn’t be so lucky when they did. I had seen that look before among the women in my village. It did not matter who you were, fear was the same for everyone, Ruromanni or Ledonian. It opened her eyes wide and alert, as if that would stop it from happening again.

You should learn how to use a sword, I said. She turned her fearful eyes onto me. Next time they come, you can stab their bellies and cut off… Her fear changed to horror. All I meant to say is that you can protect your son.

Her son seemed to find my words amusing, for a mischievous grin spread across his face. I’d like to see that, mother.

Nay, child. She stood up from where she sat, hauling her son up with her. The redheaded woman walked over to my side, holding a sizzling hunk of meat on a spit. The mother glared at the both of us as she brushed by with her son. Women do not wield swords.

She’s been giving me that look for years. The redhead winked at the boy before they were gone from our sight behind one of the wagons. Here. She cut a piece of the meat from the spit and held out what remained to me. The aroma of the mystery meat caused my stomach to rumble. I accepted the meal. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d eaten something warm.

The redheaded man joined us. The two of them were curiosities to me. I had never seen anyone with such fiery colored hair. It was rare my people had any other colored hair but black or dark brown.

I’m Matty, by the way, the redheaded woman said. She punched the man lightly in the arm as they seated themselves in front of me. And this is my brother, Hann.

You’ve got some skill with a bow, Hann said. Where’d you learn that?

I wanted to tear into the meat, but I waited for Matty to do so. Even though these two seemed nice, they were Ledonians and it would be foolish to give my trust away so easily. They could have poisoned the meat, although why they would do such a thing after I helped them I could not explain. Simply better to be prudent than sorry.

There was not much to do when I was a girl, I said.

Matty snorted. And so you taught yourself archery. I like you. She finally took a bite from her meat. Even so, I waited. I couldn’t smell any poison, yet many poisons had no smell at all.

I acted like the meat was too hot, blowing on it to cool it down, in case they noticed my reluctance to eat. But Hann, at least, did not watch my food. He studied me, eyes fixed on my face. Curious or bored? I couldn’t tell.

You’re not from around here, are you? Hann asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question. You got the look of the north about you.

What look is that? I couldn’t help the offended edge my voice took on.

The long, dark braid. The skin, fair as unsullied snow. The eyes, shaped like almonds and icy blue. The cheekbones—

Matty whacked her brother in the arm. Pig, stop flirting with her.

I wasn’t. Hann rubbed his arm. His eyes narrowed toward his sister. I see what I see.

Matty stared her brother down. I felt conscious of myself at his words, like a stallion bartered away to stud. And though I did not know what almonds were, and he generalized my people far too specifically by me, I caught sight of my pale hands.

I am from the north, I said. They both turned to look at me. I took a bite of the meat. Matty hadn’t keeled over and died, so I gathered it was safe to give into my hunger. Barely hot anymore and chewy, the meat still felt good in my stomach. Rabbit meat, I knew then.

Do you have a name? Hann asked.

I took another bite of the rabbit meat and wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my tunic. Could I trust them? They watched me with patience, their eyes studying my every move. Perhaps they did not even trust me. But they had given me their names, welcomed me to their fire, and given me something to eat. Followed all the rules of hospitality.

I am Cadda, I said.

Welcome to the south, Cadda. Matty smiled. I don’t know why anyone would willingly come into this mess of a kingdom, but you’re here and you saved us. Thank you, again.

Hann continued to watch me, the firelight flickering on his face, as freckled as his sister’s. Why are you here?

Hann! Stop interrogating the woman.

Excuse me, sister, but unlike you I am not in the habit of putting my trust in complete strangers.

Nice to know I wasn’t the sole harborer of distrust around that fire. Still, it was another thing to be the object of it.

She helped us fight off the marauders.

But why? She is not one of us. She had no reason to get herself involved with our troubles.

Matty stood, placing her hands on her hips and looking down on her brother. You’d rather she’d have turned a blind eye?

Matty! Hann! I said with all the sternness I could muster. They shifted their attention back to me. I am grateful for the meal. I will be on my way now. I rose, picked up my pack and walked away. Not too many steps later, someone caught up.

It’s getting dark. Matty grabbed my elbow. At least stay the night. The roads are dangerous for someone alone.

Your brother?

Will not be a problem. You have my word.

Darkness crept ever closer to the small caravan. And though I did not wholly trust them and they did not trust me, Matty was right. The marauders were still out there. They might come back with greater numbers and it wouldn’t do to meet those numbers alone. So I agreed to stay with them, at least for the night.

I only hoped my abilities could be kept a secret.

***

Sleep wouldn’t come. Each time I closed my eyes I saw my village burning, my father taking his last breath. It was a rare night I wasn’t haunted by such visions. The familiar ache in my heart, the throbbing of the old wound on my side only added to my restlessness. So while the others slept, I wandered.

Sentries had been posted around the makeshift camp. I avoided them, and found myself at the end of the line. The only man to be killed in the attack rested there, his father at last asleep by his body. The dead man was young, perhaps the same age as I, nineteen summers. His father had not closed his eyes. They reflected the stars above. I reached for the pendant hidden underneath my tunic and rubbed it between my thumb and fingers.

I whispered a prayer in Ruromanni, short but meaningful.

What curse did you utter over my son, savage? The old man had not been sleeping after all, or else my words had awakened him. He neared his son’s body, placing a protective hand close to it. I fought back a retort. A man in grief. I could let his slur slide.

I asked Ientu to guide his path to the Light, I said, forcing calm into my tone.

Nay. The old man pointed a threatening finger at me. You heathen, get away from my son.

"Your corpse’d be laying aside your son’s if this heathen hadn’t come along when she did. Hann emerged from the darkness. He sent the old man a look of warning, before lowering the man’s finger. Hann turned to me and pulled me away by the wrist. Come back to the fire."

You defended me, I said. That he would do such a thing after arguing about my trustworthiness with his sister baffled me.

I kept the peace is all I did. He let go of me when we reached the fire, long ago burnt out. Go to sleep now.

I made no move to do as he said. A staring match ensued. He would not trust me nor leave me alone until I either told him my purpose for being in the south, or until I left. Since it was the middle of the night, I decided on the former.

I am going to Ledonia City.

So we all are. He left, but not before I caught the beginnings of a smirk. He’d outlasted my stubbornness. I huffed out a breath and dropped to the ground.

Still, I could not sleep. Such a cold heart I possessed. I had taken a life that day. Not an animal’s, but a man’s.

Are you proud of me father? I did not balk at releasing the string.

Yet, I had hesitated to pull out Niri.

I curled up into a ball. Slumber remained elusive.

Chapter Four

The fire cracked, engulfing the rabbit, sizzling as it roasted. Though it was summer, the nights were cool and the northern breeze brought a chill to the bone. The little beasts were plentiful along the road south. Every evening I had been able to catch at least two, and added to Matty and Hann’s ration of carrots and peas, it made for a delicious meal.

I rotated the spit, awaiting the siblings. The company of travelers halted for the day. It remained too dangerous to journey through the darkness. The group swelled with several new faces, picking up poor folk as we passed through hamlets and villages. Most headed for larger towns, where they could find shelter from the marauders behind walls and gates. And me, I kept my eyes open, searching every face we passed, hoping for a familiar one to appear. But I never saw her. My mother.

Bits and pieces of conversations floated through the air. By now, much of the conversation had become familiar. A lot of it centered on me, the newcomers carrying most of the curiosity until someone else new took it up.

Ignore it.

But I couldn’t. What might sound like faraway whispers to another, felt like shouting to me.

She’s a freak, said a woman. She hunts better than a man. It’s not proper. No wonder Matty befriended her.

Are all northern savages she-wolves like her? asked a different woman.

My fingers curled tight around the spoon. I focused on another sense, breathing in deeply the smell of pigs.

Good evening, Matty, I said.

Matty lobbed herself onto the ground next to me. How do you always know I’m behind you?

Smiling, I wrinkled my nose. She and her brother could use a washing. So could a lot of folks, but it’s not like we could pause at any old stream without becoming sitting ducks for the marauders. They stalked the forests on either side of the road. So far, they stayed away, scared of our numbers. How long would that last?

Where is your brother?

Tossing dice against a mean looking fellow. Matty licked her lips, raising a brow at the amount of rabbit meat. I don’t know why she remained surprised. At least she talked to me. Maybe, I’d get a deer next time, just to see how she’d react.

Tossing dice?

Yes, you know, dice. She cupped her hands together, shook them and made a throwing motion. A game.

Oh, right. I didn’t though. No such game existed back home. How much farther?

To Ledonia City? Closer than yesterday but still farther than tomorrow.

I sighed. Trekking with the group slowed me down. But they knew where to go. I, on the other hand, possessed a map I couldn’t figure out. That didn’t stop me from feeling I could have been days ahead of them by then.

Something landed in the fire. I recoiled from the sparks. Matty stood and glared at a man watching me. He made the sign of warding – flicking his hand in my direction. The first time I’d seen this gesture, I’d wondered what it was about. Only when Matty explained it to me did I understand.

They thought me a Ruromanni sorceress. Where they got that