“I said what, not who,” Lara said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “There are more than a few with old souls and bloodlines that run back to Otherlanders that aren’t friendly or kind. I had to be sure.” Her gaze flicked toward Seamus. “Besides, he’s known to have ridden with the Wild Hunt. They’re not exactly known for their merciful natures.”
“True enough,” Seamus said quietly, sounding weary as he leaned back in his chair. “Sit down, Cam. Your anger is misplaced; she was only being cautious.”
Cameron glared in Seamus’s general direction and crossed his arms, leaning a shoulder against the wall instead of sitting. “Caution’s fine, but this felt like a little more than that.”
“Your instincts are good.” Lara’s gaze darkened. “If I’d deemed you a true threat, you’d have died in this room.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve decided we’re not a threat,” Thom said, unfolding from his own chair. His legs hurt from riding, the muscles starting to stiffen. Standing felt strangely good. “How many of you survived the attack?”
Lara closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. “You mean the one that burned half the place?”
“That would be the one.”
She sighed. “Twenty-five, including me. There used to be almost sixty of us here.” Her gaze focused distantly. “We burned their bodies and scattered the ashes. There was no way we could bury them safely, not anymore.”
Thom felt a pang deep inside and nodded slowly. These people didn’t have the luxury of a sprawl like they did back at campus—but then, he wondered how many dead they’d buried when this had all begun.
Too many, I’m thinking, unless they burned those bodies, too.
He shuddered slightly at the thought and swallowed hard.
I’m glad it wasn’t us. Very, very glad it wasn’t us.
