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“Great, thanks.”
Aleia left. Sofia stared at the wall.
Her mother had foretold this. Being Protector ended in death. It was the way of things. She’d already lived over four hundred years. Short for a normal Mythean, but longer than her mother and grandmother before her, who’d died recovering tributes.
But she felt as young as any other immortal Mythean—invincible.
And now she would be cut down.
But she didn’t have a daughter to whom she could pass on the role of Protector.
It didn’t matter though, did it? This was to be the end of her village. The High Witches had been done with them for a while now. There’d be no need for another Protector. And she wouldn’t wish this on a daughter anyway.
She sucked in a breath and stood up. She’d face this like she faced everything else thrown her way. She didn’t have a choice.
She felt Malcolm’s arrival, a warmth that was specific to their connection, and turned to see him, his dark hair windswept and some strange emotion in his eyes. Her heart thudded, trying to beat its way out of her chest.
He always did that to her. She was starting to think there was no escape from it.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He strode to her, then grasped her upper arms and stared into her eyes. “Tell me.”
“Nothing.” She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want him to look at her like her doom was imminent. Her death might come, but she wouldn’t bear pitying looks until it did. “Just worried about the upcoming battle.”
“We’ll manage it.”
She tried to take comfort in his certainty. It was a chore, but she forced herself to nod.
“Aurora has found more warriors for the battle?” he asked.
“Yes. More than a dozen. A couple are gods.” They really did have a chance with their help. The High Witches were powerful, especially when together, but they weren’t gods. “I think she’s gotten pretty much everyone she knows.”
“Good. Come with me, then. I have something you might like.”
“All right.” The agreement came immediately. She still hadn’t forgiven him and their future was impossible, but she was still halfway to falling in love with him and she didn’t want to think about the future right now. If he wanted to take her mind off of it, she would let him.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and called to Kitty. Once the warm little body was pressed against her leg, Malcolm aetherwalked them away.
When she opened her eyes, she stood in a small round room. A sitting room of some sort, with beautiful furniture and a dozen windows. The walls were almost entirely glass, with strips of wood between each window. Mountains stretched in all directions. The orange globe of the sun was approaching the mountain ridges.
“Are we in your home?”
“Yes. I had this room built for you. Not that I ever expected to see you again. But sunsets have always reminded me of you. I like to come up here sometimes.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. He remembered. That night at Dartmoor when she’d accompanied him to pay his respects to his mother had been the night she’d fallen in love with him. What could their life have been if he hadn’t made the choices he had?
She forced the thought away. She wouldn’t spend the last days of her life mourning the past. She’d embrace what little future she had left until fate stole it from her. That included Malcolm.
If she had one night left, she wanted it to be with him.
His hand cupped her cheek. “You’re sad.”
“It’s just worry over my village.” She looked out at the mountains that were now washed in orange light. “Could we just talk? Distract me?”
“Anything.” He walked to a sideboard and picked up a decanter full of golden whisky and tilted it toward her inquiringly.
“Yes, please,” she said gratefully.
Kitty curled up on a chair and Sofia sank onto one of the plush sofas. The golden light of the sunset bathed the room in a soothing glow. When Malcolm brought her the tumbler of whisky, she took it gratefully and sipped. The burn down her throat made her feel alive.
