Foretold. Rinda Elliott

came barreling through the door and the utter shock that ripped through me did what I’d never been able to do before. It stopped me from making the symbols. Rigid muscles went suddenly loose and I sagged. Vanir caught me, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the symbols on the mirror.

      “‘In violence conceived,’” he breathed, hands tightening on my arms.

      “You—” My voice caught. I choked. The rune tempus not only wore me out, it sucked me dry. It used every resource I had and left me needing a refill. I tried to work up some spit, had to talk.

      His face was pale, brown eyes wide with shock, red streaking the white part. He looked over his shoulder and I wanted to close my eyes at the utter panic and terror that had pulled his features tight. “Something’s really wrong with my brothers.”

      Outside, Geri and Freak howled, the sound raising all the fine hairs on my body. My eyes flew open wide and I clutched at him. The wolves shouldn’t be moving, either. Shouldn’t be able to make sound. I looked up at Vanir, who stared at me like I was something he’d found crawling on his shoe. Pain slashed into my chest.

      I’d always, always, been alone for this—not even my sisters shared this space with me. I swallowed again, bit my cheek, hoping for moisture. “Give your brothers a couple of minutes—they’ll be okay.”

      His gaze slid back to the mirror. “What’s going on?” He lifted me and set me on the counter. I winced when the toothpaste glob squished under my still-wet clothes. He pointed to the symbols on the mirror. “How do you know those words?

      I flinched when he brought his face even with mine, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring—his mouth in a tight, furious line.

      “You know my people’s words,” he repeated, voice low. “You know the runes. Why? And what the hell have you done to my brothers?”