By the time Breanne woke again, it was nearly dawn. Sithe,
her hood drawn up to cover her face, stood like a ghost as the girl
opened her eyes.
“Leave this place, youngling,” Sithe said, in a voice that
brooked no argument. That voice ran entirely counter to everything her
instincts told her to do. Every part of her wanted to remove her hood, to
hunker down and present less of a threat. To scoop up the poor darling in her
arms and sing her a lullaby.
There would be time for that later.
“Find someone wearing armor,” Sithe commanded. “Find someone
with a wolf on their armor. Do you understand?”
Breanne nodded dumbly. “Wolves,” she repeated. “Second
Guard. Wolves. Sure.”
She didn’t seem to understand the words she was repeating.
Sithe wondered what William had taught her. But it would do. She knew enough.
Sithe nodded, then gestured to Sythius. “Come with me,” she said.
Sythius seemed cast in iron, for all he intended to move. He
stayed on his knees next to Breanne, and stared blankly at Sithe.
“Trust me,” Sithe said, holding out a hand. “It will all be
for the best. She will be safe now. Trust me.”
Sythius let out a wordless rumble, like a moping dog.
Sithe sighed heavily, reached into a pouch beneath her
robes. She held out a hand, made a sharp gesture, and bright lights danced from
her fingers into the brightening air. Man and child sat, transfixed, eyes going
wide and blank.
“Breanne, Sister of William,” Sithe said. “You will find a
man in armor.”
Breanne nodded sleepily.
“Sythius Sil’nathin,” Sithe said. “You will follow me.”
The giant stood, stepped away from the child, and stared at
her.
Sithe nodded. “Good.”
She turned on a heel, started toward home, and tried not
to hate herself.
* * *
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