Wicked (A Wicked Saga, #1)(65)

"You need to find it," Merle said, the harmony dropping from her tone. "You know what will happen if they open the gate."

He lifted his chin. "I know."

What in the hell was going on here?

A tremble shook Merle. "If the prince comes through—or the princess—and they find it, everything is undone, Renald. Everything."

I looked at Brighton in confusion, but she shook her head. "Mama, what are you talking about?"

Merle stood, her hand clenching the glass in her hand until her knuckles turned white. "Renald, I fear those gates will break this time. It's in the wind. It's in the very song of the birds and in the soil. They will not fail with the gates this time."

Okay, this was getting weird. Typical, but weird, because that was what the ancient had said last night, and when I looked at Ren, he didn't . . . he didn't look too surprised, and the ice in my belly spread to my veins.

Merle stepped toward Ren. "You must find the halfling."





Chapter Fifteen





A halfling? What in the world? All thoughts of everything else vanished. My gaze bounced back and forth between Ren and Merle, and any other time I would've dismissed this as Merle having a bad moment, but Ren . . . yeah, he still didn't look shocked by anything this woman was saying, and I was sure I was rocking one hell of a what-the-f*ck expression at the moment.

"Halfling?" Brighton spoke, shaking her head. "Mama, what are you talking about?"

She finally tore her gaze from Ren and stared at her glass again. "It should not exist, but it does. Not for very long. It cannot be. Or at least that's what they say," she mumbled, the hand holding the glass beginning to shake. "There used to be more. Hundreds, if not thousands, but now? Maybe a handful. Maybe not even half a dozen. Because they are a threat to it all. To everything," she spat bitterly.

Ren stood up and shot forward, but it was too late. The glass in Merle's hand shattered. Tea and sharp shards exploded, raining to the ground. Blood mixed in, and I jumped out of my seat, eyes wide.

"Mama!" Brighton gripped her arm, her face paling. "What did you do? You cut yourself!"

Merle frowned as she stared at her bloody hand. Pieces of glass glinted in the sunlight, stuck in her palm. "I'm not sure, darling girl, but it does not feel that pleasant."

"I'm sorry, but I think you two need to go." Brighton wrapped her other arm around her mother's shoulders. "It's been enough for today."

I didn't stop her. Too disturbed by what Merle had done, I watched Brighton usher her toward the back of the house.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Ren called.

Brighton didn't pause for one second. "Just leave. Please leave."

Squeezing my eyes shut briefly, I bit back a curse as I heard the back door slam shut. "Oh God, that didn't end well."

Ren was quiet as I turned to him. He didn't look at me, his gaze fixed on the broken glass, the spilled tea . . . and the blood. I took a step toward him and spoke low. "Part of me wants to think that what Merle said at the end meant nothing, but I don't think that's the case, is it?"

Casting a sideways glance at me, he gave a curt shake of his head. Dread formed, taking root. "You haven't told me everything."

"No."

Several feelings rushed me at once, and I didn't know what to feel. Disappointment and anger were at the top of the heap. I trusted him, but there were also a lot of things I hadn't told him, so it was a pot meet kettle moment, and I struggled to rise above it and boy, that was hard, because I wanted to punch him in the arm. I wasn't the bigger, better kind of person on most days, so I was proud of myself when I held it together. "Is there really such a thing as a halfling? What are you really here for, Ren?"

Tipping his head back, he let out a weary sigh and then nodded to himself. "We should leave."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what the hell is really going on."

He turned to me. "I will tell you everything, even if it gets me killed."

"Killed?"

"Yeah, it's that big of a deal, Ivy. So I'm not going to do it here. We need to go someplace to talk. You live nearby."

Part of me wanted to dig in my feet, but we did need to leave the courtyard so Brighton didn't have to worry about us setting off her mother even more, but I couldn't take him home. Not when there wasn't any time to warn Tink.

I really needed to get a house phone with voicemail so I could leave him messages. That was getting added to my to-do list.

"We can't go to my place," I said, ignoring the sharp look he gave me.

He studied me a moment. "Then we can go to my place."

Nervousness caused my belly to tumble. His place? "I don't know about that."

"Thought you trusted me?" A wry smile appeared on his face.

I lifted my chin. "That was before I apparently discovered that you haven't been a hundred percent honest with me."

"Nothing between us has changed, Ivy. There are—were—some things I just couldn't tell you—that you wouldn't just believe." Sighing, he thrust his hand through his hair. "I'm not going to have this conversation in public. It's my place or yours."