I was escorted home and spent the rest of the day in solitude, disturbed only by mealtimes and the guards adding a bar to the door. On the inside, of course. I wasn’t a prisoner—yet. I ached to do something, but there was nothing I could do. Damn it all. Reading didn’t help; nothing helped.

I had difficulty sleeping that night. Seeing Gia had unsettled me. The image of her body kept flashing through my mind. And for some reason, it made me think of my mom.

When I left for college, I flew the coop. I lived close enough to school; I could’ve stayed home and commuted, but I wanted to live in the dorms. At home, I wouldn’t make friends and be forced to socialize. By now, my mom must be frantic. I think it hit me then, really hit me. I was on another flipping planet. I was never going home. Before, I focused on what was going on, what happened. I thought about home but never let myself think about it.

Now, though, tears streamed down my face as I pictured her in my mind. Her kind face and gentle hands. She didn’t deserve this. After my dad left us, I was her world. She had to be falling apart without me. Unless she didn’t make it.

My shoulders shook. No more late night movie sessions or pie stealing. No more running over to do laundry and hanging out for the day.

Oh god.

I sat there, legs dangling off the cot, my hands over my mouth when Finn slipped inside that night.

He froze when he saw I was awake. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing.” I dashed the tears off my cheeks and straightened up.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He snorted. “Even after only a few days, you should know me better than that. What is it?”

“I miss my mom.” I said, feeling stupid. I wasn’t a baby. “I’m having dreams about home, and I just realized. I’m not going to see her again, am I? She won’t know what happened to me. And I don’t know if she made it past that day.”

More tears flowed, and I was sure my nose turned beet red. I wasn’t a pretty crier. Finn came over, tucked me close, and ran his hands down my back, letting me cry myself out.

I woke up hot and sweaty, my nose still stuffy from my jag. Finn curled around me like a blanket. Thank God, he didn’t snore.

I turned on my side to look at him. A light bulb went off.

I slipped out of his arms with care, so as not to disturb him. I got the book on marks. I placed the book on the floor and tugged the light cover we’d been under off his chest. That woke him.

He flipped onto his back and gazed at me, blinking.

“What?” His voice was raspy, the echo more pronounced.

I shushed him, finger to his lips, then showed him the book on the floor. “Lay out for me.”

With a small smile playing on his lips, he placed his hands behind his head. Finn was definitely not shy.

I scrambled up, placed the book on the cot next to him and started tracing the tattoo on his right shoulder, my hand warmed by the contact. It was a series of what looks like thorns or barbed wire.

Finn stretched and spoke. “All Fost bear marks such as this. We are of the land, and this is the thorn that grows among the fields. Each thorn represents family. Our family lines used to be rich and full. As you can see, I am an only child, and I have no children.”

His eyes glimmered at this last bit. He mirrored my gesture and traced my marks, pushing the strap of my sundress out of the way. “Your people’s line looks like flowers with strange leaves. It is so colorful; we do not have much color in our lines.”

He ran his hand down my arm, and I shivered. His smile kicked up a notch, fingers lingering. On my left shoulder, I had a few lines. I pointed to his left shoulder.

“Those?”

“How we think of it is, the right is the family you do not get a choice about, but the left you do. It can be close friends, lovers, people who mean a lot to you.” He ran his hand along his jaw, along his claw marks. “This is me.”

He ran his hand along my right shoulder. “This will be me.” He smiled. “You will bear my mark.”

I blinked in astonishment. “In your dreams.”

“Yes.” He smirked. “Want to hear about my dreams? Maybe act them out?” His finger touched the middle of my lower lip. His gaze heated.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“I think it is a great idea.” He reached and put his hand behind my neck as he sat up. He moved slowly, watching my reaction. His lips drifted softly over mine. I loved how heat spread through me at his touch. Finn chuckled in a low, rich voice.

Our breath mingled, and our gazes locked. I skimmed my hands up to cradle his face. I feathered my lips on his, hands digging into his thick hair.

He growled and tilted his head to the side for a better angle as his mouth caressed mine, coaxing.

My mouth opened, and our tongues rubbed against one another. His lips were soft. I couldn’t resist taking a bite. He groaned. The sound went straight to my belly. He nuzzled at my neck, and it was my turn to groan.

Finn gripped my hair and tugged me on top of him. I didn’t know where that would have led. A knock sounded at the door. The only thing that saved us from embarrassment was the new bar.

Finn cursed in my ear, hands tunneled in my waves.

I untangled myself. “One sec,” I called out.

Finn got up from the cot, noticeably aroused. Whoa.

I tried not to watch him shrug on his shirt, I tried. But I snuck a peek, I admit it. It was for anatomical purposes only. I swear.

He watched me as he pulled the shirt down an inch at a time, rubbing his hand down his flat abs. He wandered to a spot by the table.

I lifted the bar and opened the door. “Hi.”

Marin walked in, guards close behind.

“Another murder,” he announced, looking grim. “Follow me; I want you to look at the body.”

As we walked, Marin explained. “The victim was a boy named Linc. He had been walking with his sister, Amalie, to school when a figure stepped out and killed him. She was standing right next to him when he was shot. She saw the murderer, but he wore a cloak. He called her ‘good girl’ in a funny voice. “

“Linc,” Finn echoed. “From Clan Tryst?”

“Yes.”

“How is Amalie?”

“She is unharmed but understandably upset. Nobody could get anything out of her, so her parents took her home. I want to see if you two find out anything else.”

It didn’t take us long to reach the body.

“Do you smell anything?” Marin asked Finn.

Finn nodded. “Same person as before.” He moved around the area in a circle. “The scent is concentrated here, but there is a light scent going toward the town. Want to follow it?”

They both glanced at me, and Marin lifted his brow.

“I don’t know if I can do whatever it was I did before, but I’ll try.” The corpse wasn’t even an hour old. I put my hand on the ground. I wish I knew what happened here.

As before, a golden haze rose from the ground. Two figures stood by the path, talking. One was the cloaked man who’d killed Gia. It was hard to see the other one as the murderer blocked our view, but the person was short, slender, long hair, and in leather, all signs the person meeting him was Fost. I tried to see if I could get a better view, but the image wavered.

Linc and Amalie started to walk down the path toward them. The little girl jumped at her brother, who dodged with ease. Linc waved and called out to the figures. Hmm, he knew them? The murderer and the Fost turned to the children. The cloaked figure lifted a weapon and shot Linc. The Fost ran away. I caught a glimpse as the figure slipped out of view

Amalie stood there blinking, holding her brother’s hand as he fell. The cloaked figure went to stand over the body and watched Linc’s last moments. He looked at the little girl who clutched her brother’s hand, tugging and crying. He chucked her under the chin and said something to her, running his hand through her hair. Something flashed in his palm.

Amalie cried harder and threw herself on her brother. Her hair fell around her face as she sobbed, a small piece missing from the right side.

The murderer walked off and headed toward town.

We followed the figure. I reached out to see if I could touch the image. I was afraid it would disrupt the haze, but it didn’t. The haze reformed around my hand. There was a sense of cold, like what I felt around the building holding Gia’s body. No anger. This was calculated. The murderer didn’t move the body this time. No need; he was on the path to town, and Amalie could bear witness. The figure gradually faded as we neared town. Several people were out and about. The haze hung along the ground in front of me. My secret was out.

“Did anyone recognize the Fost talking to the murderer?” Marin addressed all of us.

“No.” Finn answered.

“Nor did I.” Marin grimaced.

The guards let a few people through. Ute was one of them; he held the shoulders of another man. This man had dirty blond hair, unkempt clothes, and a tear-ravaged face. He must be Torrin, Gia’s father. He looked like Ute. Same salt and pepper hair, same gray eyes. They said nothing, just observed our activities.

We had no image now, but we still had Finn’s nose. Finn led the way. He darted between the houses, heading up toward the second level. The scent concentrated near the edge of town, then branched to the left, heading out of town. Finn lost the trail on the rocks. My stomach fell when I realized how close we were to where I was staying.

Marin studied me with an intense look. None of us mentioned the proximity to Ute’s house.

“One of my people is involved in this. That is unacceptable.”

“Linc and Amalie must have seen something they should not, and he died because of it. I am surprised he did not kill Amalie,” Finn said.

“He knew she was too traumatized to remember anything. Why kill her? More interesting to leave her alive,” I retorted.

“Interesting? Why do you put it that way?” Marin asked.

I lifted my shoulders. “I don’t know. It felt right. He found her reaction amusing, her shock and misery at her brother’s death.”

My guards Jack and Giggy—I should learn their names—came up behind me. Marin gave them a signal, and they escorted me to Ute’s house. Finn stayed behind with Marin.

I’d just arrived home when Lara breezed in, carrying new clothes for me. That was quick—overnight service. She bubbled with interest and something else.

“You have magic! You said you did not!” she accused.

“I’m just finding out I can do magic. That I have power.”

She oohed as she zeroed in on me. “What else can you do?”

I flinched away when she drew close. “Well, um, I can heal. I feel connected to the land. I fancy I can hear it talking to me. I’m dreaming at night. And I made that haze. I don’t really know much else yet. I guess I should read more.”

“But how?”

Million-dollar question, that. “I don’t know how.”

She focused on me. Up close, I saw bags under her eyes. “That’s amazing. It is good you are helping find who did this. Do they know much? I saw you with Marin.”

“Not yet.” I finished my fruit and washed my hands in the basin. “But we will soon.”

Lara drummed her fingers on her hips, looking around my room. Her manner switched to icy in the blink of an eye. “You brought them here, I know you did.”

“What?” I wheezed.

She stared at me with hatred “You know who did this. You brought them here! Why did you do this? They were just children!”

Her hands formed claws as she slinked toward me. Yeah, so much for her coming to help me settle in. Her anger pissed me off.

“I don’t know anything. I came here alone. I’m not sure how I got here, but I’d never help harm children. Never! Now get out!” I paused between sentences, getting louder and louder. In the end, we were face to face. We circled each other.

“You lie,” she seethed. Her face went slack, and she reached for me, hands ready to strike. My heart rate spiked; I felt blood pumping. Hands fisted, I brought them up in front of me.

The guards must have heard me shouting. Giggy stuck his head in, apologetic. “You should leave, Lara.”

Our gazes remained locked for several more crucial seconds. She tilted her head, pondering something, but whatever she decided, she crooked her eyebrows, ran her hands down her sides and left, glaring at Giggy for good measure.