“I’m all right. It looks worse than it is,” I lie.
“No, you need to stop. We must attend these.”
I grab Aurora’s elbow, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I said, it looks worse than it is, I’m all right.”
“We should?—”
I shake my head firmly and give her a pointed look. Aurora purses her lips and turns back to the lykin. I can almost feel her holding herself back from calling out on my behalf. It’s as if Evander senses it.
He glances over his shoulder. “Is there a problem?”
“None,” I say for us both.
“Good.”
And that is where the conversation dies.
We trudge through the forest in painful silence. Painful because it is awkward and tense being around these men. And painful because the blood has seeped down to my socks. I hold Folost tighter, ignoring the ache it causes in my shoulder. It’d be easier if I set him down, but that’s the furthest thing from my mind as an option right now.
At long last, when the moon hangs low in the heavens, we arrive at a barrier forged of undulating darkness. It writhes and pulses, infused with otherworldly magics. Contorting incessantly, its form refuses to remain constant even for a second, as though it is living, breathing.
“Is this…” I gasp.
“The Fade,” Aurora finishes for me.
I knew it. The Fade is a magical barrier between our world and the world of magic—Midscape. My grandmother told me stories of this protective barrier, the only thing keeping our world and nonmagical humans from being overrun by those with powers beyond our comprehension. She always said the line between worlds was closer than we thought—close enough that the roots of the great redwood tree could stretch across the barrier, enough for our spirits, and us in turn, to leech magic.
But I never really thought it wasthisclose. Close enough for me to walk to it in a single night. For me to touch it.
“Rhave,” Evander calls at the edge of the magical black mist. Nothing happens. He sighs and presses his fingers into the black leather band on his wrist. “Rhave.” A little more annoyed and impatient this time.
From the corners of my eyes, I see Aurora quirk her lips into the slightest little smirk.
“Would you like me to give it a try, Sir Evander?” she says sweetly.
He shoots her a glare and tries again. “Rhave, you are commanded by a knight of the wolf king to grant us passage.”
“Ooh…‘a knight of the wolf king,’ he says. Best not keep the honorable knight waiting,” a voice whispers, as soft as the rustling trees. It comes distinctly from the wall of fog ahead of us, but from no particular spot. Rather, it is as if the shadow itself speaks. This is the second talking spirit I have met in two days and, despite my current predicament, I cannot believe my luck. Perhaps, magic isn’t as dead and gone as we once feared. Rhave’s tone shifts, becoming heavy with concern. “Aurora? I did not expect to see you again so soon.”
“I hoped to never see you again,” she remarks dryly. “No offense, Rhave.”
“None taken.” There is a camaraderie among spirits, it’d seem. A fact that draws a smile to my face. No wonder Folost took so quickly to Aurora last night. “Should I not let them through?”
Aurora seems to consider it.
“What are you going on about?” Bardulf demands to know. I tilt my head at him, confused. The words have been clear enough to me. “If the Fade doesn’t open, we’ll kill the girl.” He thrusts a finger in my direction.
“I take offense to being called girl,” I say. “I’m twenty-two years grown.” Not that I expect him to listen at all.
Bardulf snorts and proves himself to be the example of my expectations.
“Need I remind you the risks of killing her?” Aurora folds her arms.
“Risks be damned. If I can’t get what I need with words, I’ll get it with blood.” Bardulf walks toward me. Aurora half steps in front of him.
“Let us pass, Rhave. Conri would come anyway to force your hand if we delayed enough. And I’ll have no more blood on my account.” The way Aurora speaks leaves me to wonder if she has seen blood spilled for her before. Was it in her name? Or because of her? Either way, she doesn’t strike me as a woman who relishes violence.
The shadows ahead condense into the vague figure of a man. It’s a hazy outline. I blink and I can’t be sure I saw it at all. From moment to moment, the man becomes a deer, then a wolf, then back again.
