Page 12 of Beyond the Winter Kingdom (Faeted Seasons #2)

I cocked my head. “It’s obviously wrong, so fill me in.”

His lips twisted, like he was debating on what to say. “The way furies are thought of it doesn’t surprise me that you’d make that connection. What truly makes them dangerous—makes me dangerous—is not the black eyes or the claws or the jagged wings. It’s our ability to curse with our blood.”

I reeled back. “You can do that?”

Vareck stilled, his gaze piercing me. “I can, but you have no reason to fear me. I would never do that to you.”

I was somewhat taken aback that he assumed that was where my thoughts went.

“I didn’t think you would.” Vareck could have hurt me a number of times since we met, but apart from putting that cursed necklace on me, he never did.

Even then, that wasn’t a physical or permanent sort of pain.

It made my heart hurt because it felt like betrayal.

“Good.” He dipped his chin. “Because there is nothing you could do to me that would make me use that power on you, including letting the mate bond die. You understand that, right?”

“I believe you, Vareck.” And by the gods, I did. He sounded pained, like it hurt to even consider a universe where I chose that. My heart tightened in my chest, and I nodded. A question came to me, but I almost didn’t want to ask. “Have you ever used it?”

He paused, and that answered my question before he even spoke. “Twice.”

I could tell he was uncomfortable talking about it, so despite my curiosity I thought it best to let it go.

“So furies come from Evorsus,” I mused, not really sure where I was going with my pivot in the conversation.

I wanted to keep him talking. Learning about furies and fae and all things Vareck was quickly becoming a favorite pastime of mine.

That thought was more than a little scary.

I buried it, masking the vulnerability with an easy smile.

Vareck nodded. “It’s why this place feels familiar to me.”

“Familiar how?”

He took a deep breath, like he was drinking in the atmosphere and letting it revitalize him. “Like it’s under my skin. As though I feel its history and remember it in lifetimes that are not my own. As if the essence of my soul is buried in the roots and traveling through the ley lines.”

Something in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. A resonance, like the realm was tugging at some invisible thread inside him.

“That’s not concerning,” I muttered sarcastically.

“It should be,” he replied. “Evorsus doesn’t just call to furies. It recognizes them.”

I swallowed hard. “But you’re the last one.”

He dipped his chin again. “As far as I know, yes.”

“What did it want from them, err, you?”

He met my gaze. “To bring us home.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to tell him the very notion scared the hell out of me, no pun intended, but before I could form a cogent response, a thought occurred to me. If the realm recognized him, would it recognize me through our bond?

We walked in silence, both of us lost in thought. The path shifted beneath us, bioluminescent vines lighting the way like we were being led somewhere.

The realization only added to the somber vibes that had befallen us.

We weren’t just walking through Evorsus.

Based on what he told me, we were being guided.

“Is it just me or does it seem like we’re being led somewhere?”

Vareck seemed unsurprised. Maybe he already knew that, or maybe he also came to that conclusion. “Evorsus isn’t omniscient, but it is sentient. Is it leading us the same way as your thread?”

I paused, only now realizing that yes, it was. The pull from the land was the same direction as the thread that was attached to my sister.

He must have sensed my hesitance at answering, but I nodded. Vareck worked his jaw. “We follow the thread. Evorsus is full of illusions. Nothing is what it seems. Don’t eat anything. Don’t let anything touch you.”

“Don’t eat any poisoned apples. Got it.”

“I’m serious, Meera,” he said sternly. It was clear this place scared him more than he wanted to admit. “I’m voicing it out loud so we’re on the same page.”

The forest glowed faintly as we moved, lighting the narrow path between protruding roots. Strange birds cooed somewhere above, and the breeze carried whispers I couldn’t quite make out, like the trees were speaking to each other. Gossiping about us.

My boots squelched against the damp earth.

Despite everything, the realm was stunning.

Wild. Alive in a way that Faerie hadn’t been in years.

I couldn’t shake the sense that we were being watched, and despite searching for the telltale shine of hidden eyes in the bushes and treetops, I found nothing.

“You said something earlier,” I murmured.

“About what?”

“This place. You said it wants to keep people. Trap them. Has it ever tried to keep you?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

I glanced at him. “And?”

“I didn’t let it.”

That was it. No elaboration. No story. Just those four loaded words and an uncertain glance at the still leaves and the silent trees.

I wanted to ask more, but it was clear he didn’t want to discuss it further. Not because he didn’t trust me, but because he didn’t trust the forest not to listen.