He stared at the fire with fists balled and jaw clenched throughout her recounting of the event. He was afraid that if he looked anywhere else, she might see the truth – read his guilt in the bruises on her neck.
Her story was an impossibility. It couldn’t be true that a man on the other side of the mountain would be able to even know about her, let alone try to kill her. Yet she had described things she couldn’t have known. Kill the girl… She had said the man repeated the phrase many times just as he had thought the phrase many times, but he had never said it out loud… had he? What he did remember saying was not a part of her story until the scream. His scream. She said the danger had been broken by his scream, but the danger had also been made real by his hands.
He could not decide if he even wanted her visions to be true or not. If they were nothing but her unconscious way of dealing with near death, of his own volition he had almost killed her. But if they were true… if someone else had used an enchantment on him… While relieving that he might not be such a monster of a man, it was also worse. It meant he was nothing more than a marionette to be manipulated. What was to stop him from succumbing again?
Actually, he realized, he was a marionette, with or without some sorcerer using him. Did not The Sight have him? Did not the mountain constantly pull him in? And did not some other string also keep him tethered to her side?