to her chest in muddy water as the rain continued to beat down on her. Lightning flashed, and something slithered against her thigh
Struggling to move faster, Brea’s exhaustion overwhelmed her. Her tears mixed with the rain. “I just want to go home.”
She’d gladly face the assault charges that awaited her back in the human world if it meant she could put this nightmare behind her. If she could see Myles again. Even her parents would be a welcome sight right now.
Splashing through the water, the ground began to rise, and Brea lurched forward until her knees were above water for the first time in hours. Checking her compass, she was still on the right path and the land ahead of her seemed rather solid in the moonlight.
As she moved forward, the magic pooling just under her skin seemed to reach a critical point. Stumbling, Brea’s heart rattled in her chest, and her lungs seized. She clutched her walking stick like a lifeline, but she couldn’t stay upright. She could feel the magic like a welling pressure in her body. With a scream of anguish, Brea tumbled forward, and a yellow light rushed from her open mouth, clashing with the lightning overhead. Sparks rained down around her illuminating the expanse of marshlands she still had to traverse.
Brea fell headfirst into the putrid mud. Rolling to her side, she tried to stand, but her vision went blurry.
I’m going to die out here all alone, and no one will even care.
Chapter Fifteen
Thunder ripped through Brea’s mind, and she jolted up in bed.
Bed?
Her chest rose and fell with rapid succession as she tried to see her surroundings, hidden by the dark.
The marsh. Creepy alligator-lizard-dragons.
She released a sigh as she gripped the thin wool blanket pooled in her lap. Had it all been a dream?
Or had her magic really almost killed her?
Her eyes darted from the bed to the sliver of moonlight appearing through a crack in the… tent door? Yeah, she was in a tent. How? Who?
A flash of lightning illuminated the sparse surroundings for just long enough to take in the small bed roll beneath her and little else. Her pack rested in the corner next to a set of saddle bags.
Brea’s stomach ached with hunger, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the familiar bag Neeve had given her. It took her a moment to realize the steady drumming on the canvas overhead wasn’t in her mind. The rain kept coming like it had no intention of letting up.
Scrambling from the bedroll, she crawled across the mossy ground to her pack and ripped it open. Yanking every one of the few belongings she had out, she searched for the remaining food that should be there.
Nothing.
Turning her attention to the unknown saddle bags, she pulled them into her lap and dug through the stranger’s provisions. Still, no food.
Warm, briny air blew into the tent, bringing with it the rain. She scooted back from the opening, dragging her bag with her. Going through it more slowly this time, she found the small knife Neeve had given her. Whoever found her must have taken it off her body.
Tucking it into the waist of pants she didn’t recognize, she pulled her legs up to her chest. Weariness invaded her mind. Her limbs tingled with weakness, and it took her a moment to realize what she felt… or what she didn’t feel.
No magic pooled underneath her skin. It didn’t churn with her emotions and lend her strength in her greatest moment of need.
“It’s gone,” she whispered.
She should have felt relief. Her entire life, she’d stood on the edge of a precipice, her volatility threatening to send her into the abyss—or get her locked up in the Clarkson Institute. She now knew it had been the magic, her fae heritage, expanding everything she felt.
But now, in the absence of that, with the prospect of being just a normal human, there was an emptiness inside her, a void in her heart.
She had to figure out where she was. If whoever found her was taking her back to Gelsi, she may as well have stayed with the lizard things. A shiver wracked her body and she couldn’t make it stop. Wherever they were was warmer than Gelsi, but even that couldn’t still her body’s shaking.
Her teeth clattered, and she pulled her tangled mass of hair over one shoulder, running her hands through it as if that could provide her the comfort she needed.
“You are Brea Robinson,” she said. “You survived