Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,13

Revna, the high chief, and walk over to her, holding out my hand for her to take. Still kneeling, she reaches up and places a kiss on the back of my hand, beaming brightly up at me. Smiling down at her, I cup her cheek gently before turning and addressing the rest of the tribespeople once more. “Do not disappoint me.”

As everyone mumbles assurances and praises, they lean forward, pressing their foreheads to the ground.

You did well, my beloved, the Mother whispers in my mind, her voice suddenly little more than a breath of wind. At that moment, I regain control of my body as the Mother leaves me, and I collapse to the ground.

Arms catch me before I land on the hard, rocky terrain, and I’m instantly surrounded by familiar faces. Voices call out, but they all blur into one. A wave of bone aching fatigue washes over me, making my eyelids heavy, as if my energy has suddenly been depleted.

“Let’s get her inside,” a familiar male voice suggests, but I’m so tired I can’t place whom it belongs to, only that something in my chest flips at the sound of him being so close. There are hums of agreement, and the next thing I know, I’m weightless as I’m raised into the air. I try to open my eyes to see what’s happening, but a hand rests on my shoulder and I instantly settle, feeling stronger already.

A name instantly comes into my head, and I know who’s touching me—Vaeril. His strength flows through our bond, and I’m able to open my eyes as I’m being lowered onto a bench. Everyone backs away save for the elves and Tor, who are kneeling by my sides. Vaeril is frowning, his hand pressed against my bare shoulder, and I vaguely wonder what happened to my cloak. Tor has a perplexed expression on his face, but he doesn’t look particularly concerned. In fact, his eyes have an excited gleam to them. Naril and Eldrin are crouched at my feet. The former has a restraining hand on his twin’s shoulder, as if he’s holding him back from coming any closer.

Frowning, I reach up and place a hand against my temple, rubbing my fingers against the skin there, already feeling a headache coming on. “What happened?”

Movement by the tent door catches my eye, and I see Vida take a step forward, her smile wide and eyes revered as she takes me in. “The goddess was here, you were her sacred vessel.” The way she looks at me makes me uncomfortable. I hoped we could be friends, but if she only sees me as a ‘sacred vessel’ and watches me with those eyes, then she will never be able to be honest and open with me like a friend would be.

“Do you remember anything?” Tor asks, calling my attention back to him.

Sighing, I lie back and look up at the tent canopy as I think of my response. “I remember everything, but after…” I gesture a ‘poofing’ motion with my hands, hoping they understand what I’m trying to say.

“You collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut,” Naril interjects, filling in the blanks, his brother silent at his side. “We brought you in here, but as soon as Vaeril touched your skin you seemed to respond better.”

“It’s their bond, he strengthens her,” Eldrin murmurs, but the way he says it sounds like he’s saying a dirty word, and he’s still not actually speaking to me but about me. He’s not spoken to me in days. Vaeril bares his teeth with a low warning hiss at his temperamental friend, and had he not been giving me some of his strength, I’m not sure what might have happened.

Needing to defuse the situation, I clear my throat. “When the goddess left, I just felt exhausted, like all of my energy had been drained.”

Revna snorts a laugh and walks to my side, leaving a healthy distance between her and the elves, choosing to stand next to Tor. I’ve noticed that although most of the tribespeople respect the elves, they seem to be pretty wary of them. “Did you feel the magic rolling off her when the goddess was here? I’m not surprised she’s exhausted,” she says with a tight smile, addressing the rest of the chiefs in the tent. I can see the tightness in her shoulders, and although her expression is neutral, there is concern in her eyes. The mask of the high chief. “Rest, we will