“Marin, wait.”
I glanced back toward Matt, though I didn’t stop walking. “Walk and talk, Matty.”
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” My brother jogged a few steps to catch up, clearly trying to keep his voice low. “You didn’t need to put it like that, y’know.”
“Do you think Pippa wanted something other than the truth?” I asked him.
“Damned if I know, but either way, you didn’t have to say it the way you did.” His eyes narrowed. “And this—this!”
“What?”
“You, charging headlong, pregnant, toward some unknown danger,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea what Thom will do to me if something happens to you while he’s gone?”
“Nothing is going to happen to me,” I growled.
“Famous last words,” Matt fired back.
“What happened to waiting for me?” Phelan called from behind us. I stopped dead in my tracks.
Dammit anyway. Where the hell is my head? I turned toward Phelan, who met my gaze with a level one of his own.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice soft, more gentle than I probably deserved.
“Not the Greys,” I said. “But maybe the Greys. There’s a fog out there, but it doesn’t feel right.”
He frowned. “Do we know where Leinth is? Neve?”
“Not sure where Neve is. Leinth was by the fire—surprised you didn’t see her there. She said it’s not the Hecate. I’m on my way to the wall to prove that to myself.”
“She’s not there now,” Phelan murmured, glancing back over his shoulder.
“She might have gone with Jack to keep an eye on the ravine,” I said. I turned to start walking again. Matt stopped me, his hand on my arm.
“Let us go first,” he said, glancing between Phelan and I. “Or at least let me go first. I’ll have a look.”
“Matt—”
“Let him,” Phelan said. “Let him go first, leánnan.”
“He won’t—”
“Won’t know what I’m seeing?” Matt gave me a wry smile. “Weren’t you insinuating the other day that I remember more of what Cíar’s life was like than I let on?”
That stung. Gnawing savagely on my lower lip, I glanced at my feet.
“I’m going first,” Matt said. He dropped a kiss on my temple and slipped past me, headed for the wall.
“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” I whispered to Phelan without looking up, fingers tightening painfully around the haft of my bow.
“Have faith, Marin,” the Taliesin said softly. “He does. He absolutely does.”
