The Will and the Wilds(63)

He says, “They’re scouting. Just a few now, but there will be more.” He glances to the Will Stone. “Let’s hope it’s only scouting.”

My stomach tightens. I think of his stories of Scroud, of the War That Almost Was, and glance to my bracelet. What will happen if Scroud manages to reclaim the stone? Will he attempt to resume his battle with the human realm? Half of me wants to sell it or find someone to cast it into the sea. The other half is terrified of being separated from it.

“If we’re to strike”—Maekallus breaks me from my thoughts—“sooner is better.”

“G-Good. Our time is limited.” Rubbing my thumb against the stone, I try to focus on our immediate problem. I look at the blackness around his eye and frown. I hope we resolve this quickly. I have so little left to give.

“They have fewer guards during the day. More likely to run into mortals, I suppose. If we’re going to find Grapf, the best time would be near sunset or tomorrow before sunrise.”

“Tonight, then.”

He presses his lips together for a moment before saying, “We’ll go—”

“I’ll go.”

His eyes narrow. “You don’t know these mystings like I do. You don’t—”

“I don’t have a telltale red thread announcing me wherever I go.” I point to his chest, almost touching it. “I take it that even if your invisibility magic is up, they can still see the binding spell?”

His frown deepens, and I know I’m right.

“If we don’t want Scroud to find us, we can’t draw attention to ourselves. I can’t merely tag along with you, willing others to look away.”

Maekallus growls in response. “If you were a more docile mortal—”

He couldn’t possibly be worried about my safety. I have the Will Stone. Still, doubt creeps into my chest. “How many can I control at once?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. Several. Scroud . . .” He pauses, and I wonder if his memories are painful, even now. “He had a method to it. Shifts, clockwork, something. I wouldn’t feel his pull constantly—it ebbed and flowed, but not consistently enough for me to find an easy way around it. Once I did, I ran beyond the reach of his influence. But Scroud’s army was substantial, twenty years ago.” He meets my eyes. “I doubt the numbers are the same now, without that rock’s power, but . . .” He offers a half-hearted shrug.

“So he couldn’t have controlled his entire army at once, only parts of it?”

“I don’t know.” He pauses, running his knuckles along the underside of his chin. “Don’t go into the Deep. Bring Grapf to you. The scrying spell could sense him over the threshold . . . perhaps the portal ring will let the stone’s power extend through the barrier between our realms.”

I look away, gooseflesh rising on my arms. “Don’t worry, Maekallus. I’ve seen enough of your realm to know to stay away.”

“Nightmares again?”

I nod.

He sets his jaw. Silence stretches for nearly a minute before he speaks again. “Enna, had I known—”

I glare at him, and his words die beneath my scrutiny. For some reason, I feel the weight of each individual letter panging beneath my breast. A sore lump presses into my throat, and I swallow it down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crouching by the brook.

I sigh. Consider. “Maekallus.”

He lifts his head until his horn points at my crown.

“What does it . . . feel like? My soul?”

He frowns. Doesn’t answer at first, but I let the weight of silence press against him. His amber eyes look toward the water. “Terrible,” he says, his voice gruff. “Wonderful. Strange. I’ve had souls before, Enna. I am what I am. But never like this. They’ve never been more than . . . food.”

I consider this, unable to empathize.

“It makes me remember things that aren’t mine to remember.”

“My memories?” My face heats.

But he shakes his head. “No. This is your soul, but it isn’t you. The memories . . . they’re someone else’s.”

“Yours?”

He meets my eyes again, his amber gaze full of some strange emotion. “I don’t know.”

We stay like that for a moment, just staring at one another. I wish I could crawl inside his head and see what he sees, feel what he feels. I wish I could understand better. When I speak, my voice chokes to a whisper. “You’ll give it back, won’t you?”

The skin around his eyes tightens. “I will do anything to save you, Enna.”

That hits my heart harder than the rest, and I glance away to prevent tears from betraying me. Once I’ve regained my composure, I say, “I’ll meet you in the glade, near sunset.”

“Let me carry you home.”

“No. I have enough strength today. We’ll make this work, Maekallus.”

He nods, and I turn away. His gaze touches me like a feather across my neck, and despite my best efforts to stay strong, I glance back and meet it.

Once I’m home, I massage my chest and will the heartache to pass, but the Will Stone is not strong enough to obey me.





This will be the last time I lie to my father.