Meeko visibly struggled to parse all the information I'd dumped on him.
"Don't worry about it," I said with a smile. "It'll all make more sense when you meet them in person."
Meeko blushed slightly, then turned away, facing the cabin.
Did he not want to talk about family? It seemed to be a sore spot for him, though I didn't know why. He mentioned having a smaller family with only his two fathers and no siblings. A knot of dread formed in my stomach. Were Meeko's fathers even still alive? If they weren't, that made his determination to retrieve the sword all the more painful.
Meeko put his hand on my shoulder to get my attention.
"I hear a voice," he whispered. "Let's sneak up to the window so we have a clear view of whatever is inside."
I pulled myself back into focus. Meeko needed me here and now. "Right."
Birdsong filled the air as the creatures began waking up with the dawn. I was glad for the extra noise cover as we crept towards the cabin. Meeko was right. I heard a voice coming from inside too.
"That does sound like Mistral," I confirmed, frowning. What was he doing? As a descendent of the spirits, I thought they'd make more sense to me than other mortals, but I was just as confused as Meeko.
But this wasn't the first time Mistral acted strangely. My cousins Zak and Quinn had both met him before, and they described him as being flighty and paranoid. Maybe this was just his usual behaviour.
I was all for being as weird as possible as long as it didn't harm other people, but Mistral had broken the rule and now he had to face the consequences.
I glanced at Meeko, crouched low to the ground and glaring through the window. He may have been a mouse shifter but he was no pushover. The rage in his black eyes glinted like obsidian.
Meeko caught my eye, then gestured for me to look inside. I followed his gaze and saw Mistral, crystal-clear. I inhaled sharply. The blue-haired harpy spirit stood in the centre of the room, glistening with sweat, his mouth hanging open as if he was panting hard.
And right there, clutched in his hands, was Meeko’s sword.
Except… It was tiny.
I snorted. "Is that it?"
Meeko turned his glare on me, dead serious. "Do you think it's funny?"
"No, no, it's not that. It just looks wrong in Mistral's hands."
Still bristling with offended energy, Meeko clutched the windowsill with his fingers. "It's not always that small," he muttered. "When I shift, the sword shifts with me."
"What?" I asked, surprised.
"There's magic infused in the sword. I don't know how it works, but it does. Mistral is doing something wrong if it won't change size."
Inside, Mistral struggled with the weapon. He swung it in powerful arcs, slashing the air over and over in obvious frustration. He ground his teeth before letting out a roar. He lunged forward, stabbing an invisible enemy with the tiny blade. It looked like a toothpick in his grip.
I didn't understand. If the sword was magic, why couldn't Mistral—a spirit—use it properly? Regular mortals didn't possess magic, not without their fated mate anyway. Even then, we didn't fully understand how it worked.
"Are you sure you're not descended from a spirit?" I asked. "My alpha father has some mild water magic because of Nautilus's influence."
Meeko narrowed his eyes. "You're wondering about why I can wield the sword and he can't. Right?"
"Yes."
"Then no. I'm positive I don't have any spirit blood."
My frown deepened. If he didn't have magic running through his veins, then the only other way was for Meeko to have a fated mate…
Claws raked my heart. Thinking about Meeko with a hypothetical alpha shredded my guts. The intensity of my reaction shocked me. Why should I care if Meeko had a mate already? We were friends, and just barely so—hell, it wasn't long ago that Meeko was trying to stab me.
Still, it couldn't be true, could it? A lump formed in my throat.
