Chapter Fifteen
When I resurface from the memory, I’m on the floor. Beira’s holding me in her arms, her eyes filled with worry. So unlike her.
“What happened?” she asks. Of course, she doesn’t know. For them, it’s just a hand. A bloody hand where you can see the bone sticking out on one end. But the tattoo around the wrist gives it away. A bracelet of delicate hearts that mum got tattooed when she adopted me. There’s no doubt that it’s her. Even without the tattoo, the thick red marks on her skin tell of the fiery rope she was bound with.
“She’s dead,” I whisper, my words making it even more real.
“Are you sure?” Gwain asks from behind my mother. “They could have… taken the hand while she was still alive.”
“She’s dead,” I repeat. “I saw it, I felt it.”
“But why?” Gwain starts walking
