Logan sighed. “We can’t leave him to…” He broke off, frustrated at their lack of information. “Whatever he’s doing, Brianna, it’s wrong. We have to find him. He held you captive. He was working with Morgan.” Logan’s list stopped as he realized they had the key.
He was suddenly standing, seemingly decided that Morgan would be able to at least give them a headstart, but Brianna said, “No.”
“We’ll just talk to him. That’s all. We won’t make any decisions until we find out what Morgan has to say.” She could almost hear the planning beneath his words: It wasn’t going to be easy, but they had Aern. And Aern had this new sway.
Brianna stood as well. “That’s not why you can’t go after him.” She’d been thinking about this for days, since before she’d known about Brendan. Since she’d realized what she and Emily were. She didn’t know if it was right, if it was the plan her mother had laid in place, but she wouldn’t be able to live with doing anything different. She had to protect them.
Logan was watching her, waiting. It was clear she wasn’t ready to make this decision. But she didn’t see any other way. “He’s too powerful, Logan. I have to help you.” She glanced at her hands. “I have to give you the tools to keep us all safe.”
It was not what he’d expected to hear. But Logan wasn’t a fool, and it didn’t take long for him to understand.
They were in over their heads.
There was more danger, something Brianna didn’t see them coming safely through. He stepped forward, eyes on her for a long moment before he asked in a low voice, “How bad is it?” At her hesitation, he said, “You have to tell me, Brianna. We need to know what we’re up against.”
She felt sick at the idea of what might come, at how bad it might get. She didn’t want to tell him that, didn’t want to say that it was all about to be torn away from them. But he was right, they had to know.
“They’re shadows,” she said. “They’ve got every power you’ve ever dreamt of. And they’re coming for us.”
***
Brianna was alone in the dim light of the sitting room, ankles crossed under the edge of the chair. Her hands rested on her lap, tattoos staring up at her, a faint glow gathering over the center of her palms. It wasn’t bright, not entirely real, but instead more like a tracer, like the trail of a sparkler, fleeting and half-there. She knew only she could see it. She and the other shadows. Whatever this otherworldly aura was, the human eye couldn’t detect it, and the Seven were closer to human than shadow. Her power hummed through her, more tangible than the visions of light.
There was a soft click across the room, Logan entering behind her, and she drew back the power. She needed to use it, to learn to control and strengthen it, but she needed to hear Logan more, to see what he’d found out. And using the power exhausted her.
He stepped up behind her, hands wrapping over her shoulders to massage away the tension, and she leaned into him, tilting her head back.
Her eyes were closed, but she could feel him watching her as his hands stilled. A thumb rolled slowly up the side of her neck and she breathed deep, relaxing into the feel of his fingers as they came higher to trail feather-light over her cheek, her temple, barely brushing her eyelid. Logan’s breath came out in what might have been a whisper, and then she felt him move, lips touching hers so gently that she couldn’t resist reaching for him, to pull him closer where he leaned over her.
She cared for him. In a matter of days, weeks, she’d fallen for Logan in a way that was deeper than anything she’d believed possible, and it hurt. It hurt because she didn’t understand it, didn’t know if this was a bond, distinct from the one her sister had formed with Aern, or whether it was led by the prophecies, those visions of him before she’d even known him. She didn’t know why she was here and how her mother and the others had guided her. But what hurt most was that she couldn’t let herself fall into him further. She couldn’t let go, because she didn't know why they’d pushed her, or what was going to happen with this war.
If he was going to live.
The idea wounded her, even unspoken, and Logan drew back, his fingers meeting the dampness on her cheek. “Brianna?”
She shook her head, hand tightening over his, and refused to open her eyes. Not yet. Logan stayed where he stood, free hand sliding to cup the base of her throat, thumb crossing her chin. “Brianna,” he whispered again.
“I’m sorry, Logan.” The words were soft, an apology for so much more than she could explain to him, and his hand tightened in hers. Don’t, he’d told her before. Don’t apologize for saving us. She blinked the dampness away, staring up at him. He was right. Even if she didn’t believe she could save them, it was time to stop apologizing and start doing.