Morrighan (The Remnant Chronicles 0.50)

Not in the way I had thought. I’d been quick to believe the worst of him.

And just now, he had risked his life to free me from Harik.

He was leaving. Today.

“It’s dangerous on the other side of the mountains,” I reminded him.

“It’s dangerous here,” he countered. I leaned back against his chest, forcing him to touch me. He cleared his throat. “Piers said he saw an ocean beyond the mountains when he was a boy.”

“He must be the same age as Ama if he remembers it.”

“He doesn’t remember much. Only the blue. We’ll look for that.”

Blue. An ocean that might not even exist anymore. It was a fool’s quest. And yet Ama’s memories had fueled my own dreams.

Are there really such gardens, Ama?

Yes, my child, somewhere. And one day you will find them.

Somewhere. I brushed back the hair whipping across my face and looked ahead at the windblown, barren landscape. No, I will never find those gardens, and Jafir will never find his blue. He and his clan would never make it. They would all perish. Soon. I felt the word burn in my gut as surely as I felt Jafir’s chest at my back. They would die.

“Jafir—”

“What?” he answered, his tone sharp, as if hearing any more arguments from me was too much for him to bear.

There is no future for us, Morrighan. There can never be.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

I had once believed there might be a way for us, but now that seemed as lost and faraway as one of Ama’s gardens.

Chapter Twenty

Morrighan

We saw it at the same time. It was a dust cloud rising behind a knoll, and in seconds, the cloud became something else. A caravan. Horses laden with packs. It looked like a small city, though I already knew the numbers. Jafir had told me. Twenty-seven, eight of which were children. Seven broke loose from the pack, a wild storm of hooves, muscle, and madness heading toward us.

Jafir pulled back on the reins and muttered a curse.

They stopped, surrounding us.

“Get down,” one of them ordered.

Jafir whispered his name to me. It was Fergus, his father. I slid from the saddle, and Jafir followed. “Stay behind me,” he ordered. But they moved like a skilled pack of wolves, positioning themselves in a circle around us. My heart banged in my chest.

Without warning, Fergus lunged forward, his fist flying through the air, hitting Jafir and sending him sprawling backward into the arms of two others. They held him so he wouldn’t fall. Blood spurted from Jafir’s mouth.

I cried out and rushed toward him, but Steffan grabbed my arms, jerking me back.

“Where’s my grain?” Fergus screamed at Jafir, his face contorted in rage.

“I gave it to Harik. It’s gone.”

Fergus looked at me, his eyes bulging. “For her?” he yelled in disbelief. “You gave it to him for her?”

Jafir wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “He and I made a deal. You are bound to honor it. Let her go, or you’ll defy Harik.”

A snarl twisted across Fergus’s face. “Honor?” He laughed and walked over to me, shoving his face close to mine. His breath was sour, and his eyes were slivers of black glass. “You have the knowing, girl?”