“We haven’t come to bring you any harm,” Seamus said, his voice still a rasp, his expression bleak as Thom glanced at him—that much was clear, even with his blurry vision. What was going on with the older man? “You must believe that.”
“Must is a very strong term,” she said, her gaze cold as she stared back at him. “I’m not entirely certain that there is anything that I must do in this situation. We don’t even have to let you live. It would likely be safer if we didn’t.”
“That would be ill-advised,” Cameron said, swallowing hard. “There are people who love us that would come looking. They know where we were going.”
Thom’s throat tightened. Don’t. Don’t keep going, Cameron. That’ll put them in danger and we don’t need that.
God, we shouldn’t have come. I should have stood my ground, should have argued.
Why did I listen?
He cleared his throat. “Do you have a name?” he asked the woman. He forced his tone to be casual, kept his voice even. It was harder than he could have imagined it would be.
Damn. I’m actually afraid.
She regarded him for a long moment, crossing her arms. “Why do you want to know?”
“Well, if you’re going to kill us, I don’t see the arm in your sharing it,” he said, knowing that the comment may come off as flippant. Just keep her talking. Just…the longer she’s talking, the more chances we’ve got to convince her that we’re friends, that we’re not here to hurt them. “And if you don’t, then we’ll be even, won’t we? You already know my name.”
She sniffed, shaking her head. “Not yet, I don’t think,” she said softly. “Where did you come from? How did you…how did you survive?”
“A miracle,” Thom whispered. “That’s how.”
uh oh .. Seamus is failing. Not good.. This chick must be from some magical place too.
Thanks for another addition.