My… heart.
Ignoring the heaviness, I started to whistle.
Scarlet glanced over her shoulder, her gaze catching mine before she let out a low grunt.
“What?”
Rhodes’s eyes flicked back to me, then to her. “She can’t whistle,” he muttered under his breath.
I grinned and doubled down, dragging the notes out longer, sharper. Nash jumped in with a smug, pitch-perfect whistle, and Rhodes joined too—turning the path into our own traveling concert of chaos.
I caught the flicker of her emotions through themarekem—annoyance edged with something warmer. She was still angry with Wylder, still hurt from whatever he’d done, but stubborn enough to patch the wound herself and pretend it didn’t hurt.
Doryan’s words echoed in my mind.
Still here.
No matter what happens, Scarlet wakes up and puts one foot forward. She’s still here.
Nash abruptly stopped whistling, leaving our little band in an off-key mess.
“Ahhh,” he sighed, stretching in the saddle. “I am so looking forward to a nice meal, hot bath, and a comfy bed.”
I glanced over at him. Sunlight glinted off his wavy brown hair, and that smug grin widened, revealing the dimples just under his eyes. Handsome, sure. And he had the kind of charisma that couldcharm the boots off a priest—even if it was usually laced with arrogance. I’d give him that much.
But he wasn’t my type. I don’t hate him enough for him to be my type.
A different thought pushed into my head. “How was Shady boy before we left? Did you get a chance to see his new housing?”
Rhodes dismounted, his gaze sharp on me. “I did. He was very appreciative.” His tone was dry.
I hid my enthusiasm at the thought of Shayde’s discomfort.
“But you know, he practically grew up in our smithy. Hopefully he doesn’t woo everyone too much with his skill. Wouldn’t want him sticking around the Hollow permanently, would ya, Fitzroy?”
I slid down from River’s back, scratching behind her ears and ignoring his jab. Nash had been right about this being a small village. Once we’d hitched the horses, we walked straight into a courtyard surrounded by five buildings, each one connected to the center by an overgrown cobblestone walkway.
No villagers were in sight until an older woman leaned out a window to dump food scraps. All the buildings looked worn, some with boarded-up windows, all with cracked foundations. Smoke still billowed from the chimneys.
“This is the Crossroads,” Rhodes explained. “It used to be a trading post decades ago, before the main street lines were installed across Arya. Now the Glade is their only trading partner—allowing the families here to remain undisturbed, and giving members of the Glade a safehouse when needed.”
“Why would the Shadow Glade need a safehouse?” my naive sister asked.
“Because the world doesn’t know they exist,” I grumbled, bumping her shoulder. “Where can we find food? You promised me a fresh meal, Salvitto.”
Nash led us to a one-story building on the right. Inside, the air was stale and heavy, our boots echoing off the bare floor. A single shaft of sunlight cut through a grimy window, catching the motes of dust drifting lazily in the air.
We chose a table in the far corner. Scarlet hesitated before sitting—her gaze flicking to Rhodes—then dropped into the chair beside me instead. Rhodes tracked her movement until she sat directly across from him, leaving Nash to take the seat at his side.
Rhodes, once sprawled with his long limbs draped carelessly over the space, now sat upright, elbows tucked in to avoid brushing against Nash.
“We’re almost to the Glade,” he said, his voice low and measured. “We need to discuss strategy.”
Nash leaned forward, popping his knuckles one by one. “Once we arrive, we’ll rest for the night and change into the Glade’s leathers and weaponry. We’re under strict orders not to be seen at Mageia, and not to cause harm.” His brown eyes flicked pointedly to me.
I rolled mine. “We get in, find the Key, and get out.”
“And get my friends,” Scarlet added.
