Thom’s hand spasmed around mine before he shoved me behind him, fingers untangling from mine. I groped for my bow as his blade rasped free of its scabbard.
“Just stay behind me,” he said in a tight voice.
“I can—”
“Just stay behind me,” he repeated, more firmly this time. There was no hint of pleading in his voice, just the tone of command I’d grown used to hearing over the years—though rarely directed at me, usually directed to others.
We’d been out here alone for a long while, though. It had been a long time since I’d heard that tone.
“Peace!” a voice called. The brush in front of us rustled, a young face peeking out from amidst the branches and leaves. His eyes were bright green, copper around the pupils, and I sucked in a sharp breath. He reminded me of both Phelan and Thom all at once.
“Gods and monsters,” I breathed, clutching at Thom’s arm before I eased him aside. “Come out,” I said, my tone far gentler than my husband’s. “Come out, we won’t hurt you.”
Thom looked at me askance and I waved him into silence, easing past him toward the brush and the thin but broad-shouldered young man emerging from the brush. His dark auburn hair was cropped short, feathery, freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose. I took a deep breath. He was of age with our son, perhaps a year older at most.
“What’s your name?” I whispered.
“Seamus,” he answered, staring at me for a moment before his gaze flicked toward Thom, who only sheathed his sword when he’d gotten a good look at the boy’s face. “For my Da’s brother.”
“I know,” I said, taking a step toward him. “Teague is your father.”
He blinked at me, then looked at Thom. “How did you—?”
“Take us to him,” Thom said. “There’s a lot we need to talk about.”
The boy nodded warily, turning away. I gripped Thom’s arm as my vision began to dim.
“Marin?”
“I’m fine,” I whispered, though I wasn’t.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
Hmmmmmm. Another vision.
Good story. Thanks