I was still standing against the wall of the house, my heart hammering against my ribs, my knees trembling so violently that I could barely tell if I was still standing or already falling. The night smelled of cold rain and smoke, of earth and metal. Malaric had disappeared – but his imprint clung to me like a shadow that couldn't be shaken off.
The air vibrated with what was no longer there. Every breath tasted of ash.
I forced myself to move my hands, running them over my arms. My skin burned where his presence had touched it, though he had barely grazed me. I wanted to shake off the heat, to wipe it away, but it remained, under the skin, like a secret stamp.
I turned around, intending to sneak back to the back door – but then I froze.
Voices.
A door opening.
A familiar sound that suddenly frightened me.
"Lina?"
Mother's voice. Too close.
She shouldn't be outside. Not now.
