Page 59 of The Edge of Darkness

I blinked, realizing what he had just said . . .

“She’s your sister?” I couldn’t have heard that right.

Behind him, Niall and Roirdan exchanged a look.

“You heard correctly.” He stepped past me, but I yanked him back by the arm.

“Wait, wait, wait. You can’t just throw that out there right before we walk in,” I hissed. “How is she . . . your sister? I thought a witch had to give birth to the Dionach to be their wardeness?”

“They do. But Nivelle is a one-in-a-million twist of fate. We’re twins, you see. We were born together, and because of Nivelle’s power, she was able to relay my summons to me after our mother died.”

I stared at him, piecing everything together.

“I’ll explain everything later. Come on.” He turned and took the lead up the stairs.

“Hope she’s better looking than you,” Roirdan murmured to Silas as we approached the door.

A few of the wights slipped inside when the door creaked open. Their incorporeal forms illuminated the gloomy space as they took up corners and perches throughout the cottage.

The fireplace was full of flickering cinders, and the once-brightly-lit candles that decorated the room now guttered with faint, orange flames, as if they were seething with contempt. It was as if the atmosphere itself was protesting our arrival.

Once we were inside, the door slammed shut behind us, and a quiet but commanding female voice spilled out from the darkness.

“Breaking a witch’s wards is considered a grave disrespect.”

I stiffened. She was speaking to me. Calling me out for what I’d unknowingly done.

I squinted through the dimness but couldn’t see where the voice had come from.

“My apologies,” I said.

No response.

“Nivelle,” Silas drawled, “these are guests, not enemies.”

I glanced over at him, quickly realizing that out of the two, Silas was definitely the one to reason with.

Across the room, a figure slowly emerged from the dark.

Her glowing eyes were what I noticed first.

As she stepped forward, the candlelight flared, illuminating her fair skin and pale blonde hair—the top half of which was pulled back. The rest hung over her chest, well past her waist.

There were gray markings on her face—three small dots down the center of her forehead, followed by a short vertical line between her brows. Another inked line traced the center of her bottom lip, rounding down her chin. The markings, like her eyes, pulsed with blue light as she approached.

She was hauntingly beautiful. And strikingly different from Silas. I knew twins didn’t always have to look alike. But their appearances were starkly different. One must have taken after their mother, and the other after whoever sired them.

A simple black shirt and form-fitting pants hugged her delicate curves, and a strapless black leather corset lined with gray fur encased her thin waist.

My senses warred with each other upon assessment. Nivelle’s small frame appeared lithe and petite, like mine, but the power that rolled off of her told me she was not to be underestimated. Her mere presence had me itching to take a step back.

As if he could sense my mind churning, Niall’s voice murmured into my head, If you could sense yourself like others do, you’d be astonished to find that you are far more intimidating than this witch.

My eyes widened at his words. Is this what my power feels like to someone else?

Your power is growing day by day. A few weeks ago? No. But now? Yes. Embers of gold sparked in his eyes.

The witch stepped quietly, as if she were as weightless as the wights that had now formed a line and were trailing behind her. She halted a few feet away, and the faint blue light of her markings faded. Her eyes shifted to what I assumed were their normal color—a stunning gray-blue hue—remaining fixated on the three of us strangers, even as Silas moved toward her.