Page 71 of Unveiled

“Because you’re the one I trust to use it only when you truly need it. And because I’ll feel it, no matter where I am, when you’re in danger.” She stepped closer and looped a thin leather cord through the carved groove of the stone, lifting it to his neck. Her fingers brushed the hollow of his throat as she fastened it.

“And what will you feel, exactly?” he murmured.

Irial’s expression softened with something ancient and new all at once. “Your intention,” she whispered. “Your fear. Your hope. Your will calling mine. Enough that I can reach you, lend power through the bond. But only you can direct it. Only you can choose what it becomes.”

The sigil stone warmed again, responding to something in him. Adrian closed his hand around it. “Then I’ll use it wisely.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes brightening a little. “That’s why I made it for you.”

For the first time since stepping out of the forest, she looked almost like the Irial he knew. But only almost. There was a magnitude in her now of something vast, humming beneath her skin that made even the mist keep its distance. And Adrian understood something he hadn’t before. Irial had come back to them. But the girl they’d rescued was not the same one who had been taken.

Connor squeezed her shoulder gently. “Rest now. Tomorrow, we figure out what comes next.”

Adrian caught Xiathen’s gaze. The Mystic’s expression was calm, but beneath the calm lay something sharp, something ancient and unsettled.

“This is only the beginning,” Xiathen murmured.

“Aye,” Connor replied quietly. “But they’ll have to come through us.”

And for the first time that night, the fire in the hearth didn’t seem small at all.

Chapter Nineteen

Connor

Night had finally settled around Glengáill. Soft and watchful, the edges of the forest breathing in slow, even draughts of cold air. Inside The Dry Pig, the murmurs of frightened townsfolk had faded to nothing more than a tired hush. Irial slept at last. Connor had Max and Fraser stay behind to help Piper and Moira tidy the shaken community.

Connor stepped outside first, needing space. The lantern at the edge of the square flickered in the breeze, its thin pool of light haloing the stones. He braced his hands against the railing, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding since Irial’s rescue.

Behind him he heard footsteps. Soft. Measured. Adrian.

Connor didn’t turn, but he felt the bond tug gently. An awareness, warm and quiet, like someone brushing the edge of his thoughts.

Adrian came to stand beside him, leaving enough distance to be polite, yet close enough that Connor could feel his presence like a second pulse. “She’s safe,” Adrian said softly, as though repeating it might make it more real.

“Aye,” Connor replied. “But it was too damn close.”

Adrian’s breath curled in the cold, pale against the dark. “When I saw her there, when I felt that thing’s presence I…” He stopped.

“You thought we’d lost her,” Connor finished for him.

Adrian nodded. “And I couldn’t bear it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the forest shift: a soft creak of branches, the low rustle of distant wind. Nothing unnatural. Nothing warped or off kilter.

“Do you ever wonder,” Adrian asked, “why the bond shows us each other’s fear more clearly than our own?”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t pretend to understand it. But aye. I felt your fear tonight. Stronger than mine.”

Adrian let out a faint laugh. “That’s unfortunate. I try to hide it.”

“You can’t.” Connor’s tone was rough, but not unkind. “Not from me.”

Adrian looked away, his gaze dropping to the lantern-lit stones. “I wasn’t afraid for myself.”

Connor’s heart gave an unhelpful, traitorous thud. “Adrian.”

Adrian lifted his eyes, too open, too honest, the green catching the cold firelight. “I thought the bond was meant to make us stronger. But it’s complicated, isn’t it?”