Young ones. “May I come?”
“No, Skadi. I don’t know what it is, and?—”
“I could look after the littles.” I dipped back into the room and returned with one of the only fae tales I had, a thick book with bright paintings on the pages. “I could keep them distracted.”
“I don’t want you getting ill.”
“I’ll stay back. I . . . please, I want to help.”
I did want to help. There was a soft place in my soul I kept for young ones who might be frightened and alone. But another piece of me yearned for a chance to show my new clan I was not a creature who wanted to bring them harm.
Jonas closed his eyes with a sigh. “All right. But if I say to return to the palace, you must return.”
“Agreed.”
Jonas roused Dorsan, insistent my guard could keep watch over my back while the prince aided the ill household.
The longhouse was situated on the edge of the palace grounds, tucked between tall aspens with pens for hogs and goats. It was a fine estate and proof of the generosity of the royal house to those they trusted.
Folk in night shifts, some darkly clad guards, and men and women with baskets filled with vials and pouches, were scattered throughout the yard. Fires roared, burning linens and stuffed toys.
All gods. What sort of illness was this?
“Skadi.” Jonas brushed his knuckles along my arm. “The littles are there.”
Three young ones sat beside a stack of damp straw, a small hound pup in the tallest child’s arms. Thin blankets wrapped their shoulders, their feet were bare, and matching golden hair was on end.
A woman in a blue cloak crouched, urging the children to take something from a vial.
“Stay back?” Jonas asked it like a question, a request.
I nodded, clutching the book to my chest. When the prince turnedtoward the chaotic longhouse, unbidden, I snagged a hold of his wrist. “Take care.”
No snide comments left his tongue, there was nothing worth jesting over in a moment as this. He left me with a slight nod, accepted a cloth mask from Von, and hurried toward the longhouse.
Dorsan kept a distant but stern presence when I approached the children with a bit of nerves. The woman was urging the smallest girl to take a sip of whatever was in the glass vial. The child whimpered for her mother, and her skinny brother kept glaring at the woman like she might be intending to poison his sister.
“Silvery.” A second girl, a little older than the crying child, lifted her big eyes, pointing at me.
I touched the line of elven silver rings in my ear. Dokkalfar silver reacted to moonlight, and sparkled like gemstones. “Do you like it?”
The girl had red rimmed eyes and damp cheeks, but she nodded with a bashful smile.
I knelt beside the woman trying to aid the young ones. In a few swift motions, I removed a few of the rings and held them in my open palm. “I think they would look beautiful on you.”
The small one hiccupped and dared follow her sister’s movements as she drifted nearer to the glimmering silver.
I smiled when she bit into one of the linen blankets, sucking on the corner, but hesitantly joined her sister, watching the rings shine.
“Would you like one?”
The older girl let out a little gasp, but nodded.
“I shall make you a deal then.” I cast a look at the woman. She was not behaving cruelly with the littles, and I suspected whatever was in that vial had a touch of magic to protect the young ones against illness. “This tonic is here to help you all stay strong.”
The woman hurriedly nodded when I looked to her for confirmation.
I smiled back at the young ones. “If you will take it, I will show you how to wear elven silver. They say it has a bit of magic from the gods of the night within it. Whenever you feel alone in the dark, they will always shine brightly, reminding you that you’re not alone.”
