No,thunder.
I bolted upright, my heart slamming into my throat. Pherin hopped across the pillow and leaped onto my shoulder, clinging to my hair, peeping softly.
Was Trew safe, or was I about to learn that love sometimes came too late?
I gently returned Pherin to the soft blanket I’d folded and placed beside my pillow, slumping back myself and dragging my blanket up over my head. While the storm buffeted the castle, I shivered. Did all I could not to whimper.
When I woke later, I realized why that drawing looked so familiar.
She had my mother’s eyes.
50
ISI
The next morning, I studied the drawing and shedidlook like my mother. Or like she might’ve appeared when she was young.
But it couldn’t be her, could it?
Leaning forward, I stared at the image some more.
That’s when the last words in the book I hadn’t been able to decipher smeared into view.
If she should ever read this, I pray she will forgive me.
What did that mean?
The moment I read them, they shimmered and were unreadable again.
Chills shot across my skin.
I’d tell my friends about this and see what they thought.
Yet we didn’t find time to talk during combat training, our strategies class, or even during magical training, which was conducted by Nia, who kept chattering with Kerralyn.
Maddox hovered nearby, watching us, trying to listen in on our attempts at conversation.
We couldn’t allow that.
After magical training, which went well enough now that Pherin and I were friends, we walked to dinner together. My little minxpip kept chirping on my shoulder, I swear scolding Dare, Derren’s ember-winged moth-hawk, who kept swooping ahead, his wings brushing against the back of people’s heads before darting upward. The bird essentially snickered when the person whirled around, their hand smacking out at nothing.
The dining hall shimmered with warmth and noise, the air heavy with the scent of roasted meat, warm bread, and the faint tang of ale. Magic worked its lazy way around the room, pitchers of wine and jugs of ale floated past in a slow orbit, pausing midair to refill a cup before drifting on. Platters heaped with golden potatoes and thick slices of roast replenished themselves the moment they neared empty, steaming as if they’d just been dished up from the pan.
I slid onto the bench, with Derren and Lexie across from me, and Kerralyn on my left, already scribbling notes in the margin of her ever-present journal instead of reaching for food. Pherin perched on my shoulder like a teal-and-silver brooch with a heartbeat, her feathers ruffling every time someone brushed past. Around us, companions lounged on shoulders, coiled in laps, or sprawled beside trenchers like entitled houseguests. Torchlight gleamed off a molten miniature bull’s horns, a twilight serpent’s scales, and the twitching whiskers of a badger-thing with attitude.
Maddox dropped into the only open space at the end of our bench.
“Evening,” he said, his charm sharpened into something with points.
Lexie suddenly found her trencher fascinating. Derren buttered his bread, taking care with each swipe of his blade. Even Kerralyn’s pencil seemed to scratch louder in the silence.
I didn’t bother looking up from my trencher. “You’re not welcome here.”
“You can’t be mad at me forever.”
I lifted my gaze to meet his. “Oh, yes, I can.”
His jaw flexed. “It wasn’t lethal. I gave you the antidote myself.”
