[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
I was awake when Cameron returned, his horse in a lather and his face as white as the moon that hung above. My son was fussy, refusing to sleep despite a full belly and a clean diaper, so I’d gotten up to walk with him out in the cool evening air. A summer storm had rolled through the previous evening and humidity had faded considerably in its wake, leaving behind a pleasant night and a sky full of stars—and a nearly full moon that hung in the sky, granting more light than usual.
I’d had an eerie feeling staring up at that moon, though I’d tried to chalk it up to the news that Phelan, J.T., and my brother had brought to my attention—despite their efforts to do otherwise. They’d only meant to tell Thom, but they should have known that just telling Thom would prove impossible—as it had.
And now, here was Cameron and there was I, standing near the watchtower as the Huntsmen on watch opened the gate to let him inside. His eyes lit on me as he threw himself from the saddle, breathing hard, stumbling a few steps before he caught his balance.
“Marin! Thank god. Is everyone okay? Is Neve okay?”
I reached with one arm to steady him, my son cradled in a wrap tied around my torso. He shifted with a soft whimper as Cameron started to catch his breath, straightening, steadying. Cameron stared at me, his face still pale. One of the Huntsmen came to take his horse. I ignored them, focusing on his face, on the fear and wildness in his eyes.
“We’re fine,” I said carefully. “What happened to you?”
He gulped in air like a man drowning, shaking his head quickly. “I—you—I need to see her.”
“Neve?”
He nodded hard. My brows knit.
“Are you all right?”
“No,” he said, starting to walk past me. “No. Not at all.”
