Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Everyone falls silent, processing this. It's a big deal. Abigail has been our only set of eyes for the last few years, but she doesn't always understand what she sees. She's still young, with no frame of reference for the visions the Gods visit upon her. She does the best she can, of course, and we don't fault her for that. But an extra set of eyes? Someone who may understand the things she does not? It's a tempting consideration for my brothers.
"That could be useful," Malachi mutters.
"Nei. I won't allow it," I say, finality in my tone.
"Nor will I," Damrion agrees, his tone an even match for mine. "The Valkyrie has no control over her Light. I won't put either of them through that just to give us an advantage."
"We may need it," Reape argues.
"We've lived without it thus far." Damrion meets his gaze, his unyielding. "We'll continue to do so unless we have no choice. We don't harm those we guard. Not for any reason. And you saw what just happened. They were in pain no Valkyrie or Blooded should ever feel."
Adriel mutters a curse, but he doesn't disagree. He can't. He saw the same thing we did. He knows the visions cause Abigail pain on their own. Amplifying them like Rissa just did only caused her more. We won't do that to either of them willingly.
"Dax."
My gaze flickers to Rissa. Her eyes are open, anger sizzling in their depths. Pain swirls there too. She remembers.
"Elskan-ljós," I breathe, relief washing through me in a warm flood. "You're awake."
"Abigail."
"She's well, bittesmå ljós."
She nods, pushing herself into an upright position in my arms. She ignores everyone in the room, focused solely on me. "Take me back to Seattle. Right now, Dax."
"Easy, elskan-ljós," I say, trying to put her mind at ease. "Easy. Everything is okay."
"Take me back." She scrambles to her feet, her face paling as if every muscle in her body aches. But she doesn't complain. She simply places her hands on her wide hips to glare down at me. "I mean it. I have to go back right now."
She's panicking, what she saw and what just happened pushing her to the edge of what she's willing to handle. I can't blame her for that. This world is brand new to her, and thus far, it hasn't been a walk through the Shining City. But Seattle is the last place she needs to be with Forsaken on the loose.
"Elskan-ljós…" I bound to my feet, fully aware that Stephan and my brothers hang onto every word we speak. They watch every move we make. If I can't soothe my Valkyrie, they'll give me nine kinds of hell later.
"You have to take her," Abigail interrupts before I can find an argument to convince her that all is well. "The Forsaken know we have her. They're going to kill everyone she knows one by one until you take her back."
"Faen," Malachie breathes.
"Is this what you Foresaw, ást-meer?" Damrion asks Abigail, holding out one hand to pull her into a sitting position.
"Yes."
"Helvete," Adriel snarls.
No one else says a word. What can we say? Everyone in this room—nei, this town—knows the Forsaken will do exactly as Abigail says. Not because she Foresaw it, but because that's the kind of evil they are. They kill without remorse, destroy without compunction. It's in their nature. It's who they are. If killing everyone Rissa knows gets her where they want her, it's precisely what they'll do.
"How do they know that'll get her anywhere?" Stephan asks, his gray eyes clouded as he looks at every warrior in the room.
"How do the Forsaken know anything?" Derision clouds Adriel's voice. "Gods only know what they can do with their dark magics."
"Right," Stephan agrees. "But either they know the Fae have her, or they think she knows who she is. How else would they expect her to know she's the reason her friends are turning up dead?"
Skíta. He's right. Their plan wouldn't work if she didn't know anything about what was going on. It'd be a waste of their time, no more useful than grabbing any random Blooded from the street and torturing her for information about this place. The Forsaken must know that Rissa knows. Or they must know that we're hiding her. Either way, they're one step ahead. Somehow.
"I think…" Abigail swallows hard, her hands tremoring in her lap. "I don't think my visions come from my Valkyrie blood, at least not completely."
"What are you saying?" Damrion asks.
"The Forsaken know about her," Rissa answers for her. "They've always known about her."
"Nei." Adriel's hand slashes through the air, his tone ringing with finality. "Nei. They are not responsible for her visions. She is full of Light."
"Ja, she is," Damrion growls.
Abigail starts crying quietly, prompting Adriel to crouch beside her and curl one big arm around her shoulders.