Page 268 of The Edge of Darkness

My arm shot out in front of Saxon. “Wait! I know him. Lower your weapons.” I spoke the command loud enough for Weston to hear, and he lowered his sword too, as instructed.

The wraith slunk further into the water until she was barely noticeable against a nearby alcove.

Syros remained still, peering out across the chamber, seemingly confused. When I willed an orb of light in my hand and sent it up above us in the air, illuminating our faces, his eyes widened. “My Lady? What are you . . .” His voice trailed off as he glanced between me, Breck, and the two Dionachs.

“Long story,” I said.

He nodded warily, then cleared his throat. “I’ve been summoned here.”

“What for?”

“For him.” Syros pointed a finger at Breck.

“Me?” Breck shook his head. “W-Why?”

“To bestow your shroud.”

Breck stiffened.

A shroud. A shroud for the selfless deed he’d done—risking his life to the point of almost sacrificing it completely, if it hadn’t been for the healing waters.

I recalled the look of respect on Breck’s face and the awe in his voice when he discovered that Niall was shrouded. Like he longed to be worthy of something of that magnitude, but still didn’t believe he would ever be deserving of it.

And now, the moment was staring him right in the face.

Syros beckoned with his hands. “Come.”

When Breck didn’t move, Saxon and I gently grabbed him by his arms and guided him forward, leaving him to stand before The Adorner.

“Kneel, and remove your shirt,” Syros instructed.

Breck did as he was told. His damaged shirt fell to the cave floor with a wet slap, and he peered up. “I—I don’t think I deserve⁠—”

“Quiet, now.” Syros lifted his hands. “The fates have spoken. They have deemed you worthy of the mark. But I must say, this . . .” He paused to look around. “Isn’t the typical location I find myself in when bestowing a shroud.”

Breck cleared his throat. “Like she said, it’s a long story.”

Syros glanced over to me. “I’m sure it is.” He proceeded to rub his hands together before holding them above Breck’s shoulders.

From where I stood, I could barely see Breck’s face in the dim light, so I sent my orb adrift above us all. This moment was too special to be hidden in the dark. It needed to be seen.

Syros gave me a gentle nod in thanks, then he spoke a string of ancient words I did not understand. His palms flared with a faint orange glow, and he brought them down, placing them at each side of Breck’s neck upon his shoulders. There were no other special words. The Adorner only moved his hands, and the markings appeared beneath them, blooming across Breck’s wet skin.

When the glow faded, and Syros pulled his hands away, Breck looked down at himself as he stood. His markings were in the shape of vines, twining along his collarbones and shoulders, draping over them and down his back. Vines for his woodland roots. Vines for his ability to grow and adapt.

Syros smiled and offered Breck a congratulatory bow.

Not knowing what to do, and still stunned by the unexpected bestowment, Breck gave him a wobbly bow back.

The Adorner proceeded to take a quick glance around the space, and I could have sworn he lingered just a little longer on the dark corner of the pool where the wraith waited, fully concealed in shadow. His eyes found me next. “I trust that you are not in danger with this lot?”

“No, I’m in good company,” I reassured him. “I take it you have never been here before?”

“I have not,” he said, turning in place. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Inside a mountain. I’m afraid I don’t have much more information to give you than that. But, how were you able to get here if you’ve never been here before? I thought you could only port to places you’ve seen?”

“I was summoned by the fates. It is involuntary. Think of it as a directive. I am drawn through space to the fae’s precise location, regardless of where it is.”