I fought a grimace. Those runestones. Another mistake of mine. I’d forgotten to include vertical parameters in the protection wards, leaving us vulnerable to air attacks. Hence the hawk getting through.
“Good plan.” I kept my voice neutral.
Casimir’s eyes narrowed slightly. He saw right through me, of course.
“Not your fault. Sorry I implied otherwise. I was distraught,” he said quietly. “Weallmissed it, Ko.”
But that was the thing. They shouldn’t havehadto catch my mistakes. As the only half-human among our quartet, I had to do better. Had to make up for not having magic, for being the weakest link. The thought sat cold and heavy in my stomach.
“Did you find out what she wanted?” Casimir asked me as we waited. “Before herfirstpanic attack.”
His hands fisted, and I could all but hear the lightning cracking under his skin.
“Don’t,” I warned him sharply. “Not here. Not now. And yes. She saw you using highlighters and sticky notes with your textbooks and thought she’d like to do the same.”
“Highlightgrimoiresfromantiquity? Sticky noteilluminated manuscriptsfrom theMiddle Ages?” He gaped at me with a flare of panic in his green eyes.
“Relax, Cas. She asked for a new notebook and writing utensils, not implements of literary destruction. She thought maybe some colorful pens might brighten up her work, encourage her, keep her trying.”
“Oh.Oh.” He rubbed his chest with his hand, relief flashing across his face. “Okay. Let’s get her that.”
“Already did. Ordered a stationary kit and some other supplies online. Be here tomorrow.”
“Good job, Ko.”
I rolled my eyes as he patted my shoulder.
“Here, Prince Koa.”
Addison handed me an enormous quilted blanket before going back to help Mrs. Wentzel pack a wicker hamper, the kind you see in movies about rich people. She worked with brisk efficiency, adding a variety of containers and finishing up with thermoses of what smelled like spiced cider.
“Plates,” she muttered, more to herself than to us. “Utensils. Proper napkins, not those paper things.”
I watched, slightly bemused, as our simple picnic became an event worthy of a food magazine spread.
“This is a lot. I was just going to grab something quick.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Prince Koa. That girl deserves a proper meal, not whatever you would cobble together. Chips and pretzels and soda, no doubt.” She handed Addison a stack of linen napkins to add to the basket. “Besides, it’s a picnic. It should be special.”
Looking at the care she was putting into this impromptu lunch, I felt a strange tightness in my chest. How far we’d come from the days of scarfing pizza from cardboard boxes, wiping greasy hands on our tactical pants between missions.
And maybe that was the point.
#
The forest path unwound before us like a ribbon of crushed gray stone, cutting through the towering maples and oaks. April sunlight filtered through the new leaves overhead that shifted with every breeze. Beside me, Seri walked with her head tilted back, her fingers occasionally brushing against the rough bark of a tree trunk as we passed. Brumous trotted ahead, nose to the ground, his charcoal gray fur almost disappearing into the shadows when he veered off the path.
I carried the picnic basket, which weighed roughly the same as a small car. Zane walked a few paces behind us, hands shoved in his pockets, while Casimir led the way, alert, but his posture relaxed. To anyone else, we might have looked like any group enjoying a spring walk in the woods.
Cas caught my eye over Seri’s head, his gaze questioning. I knew what he was asking. The same thing I’d been turning over in my mind since we set out.
Should we tell her about The Withering Veil? What it actually did?
Glancing back at Zane, I saw his eyebrows lift.Your call, he was saying, which wasn’t fair, because this wasn’t justmydecision. Anything that affectedheraffected us all.
On one hand, it was her right. If our positions were reversed, I’d want to know what kind of curse had almost hit me. Knowledge was power, and keeping Seri in ignorance, even to protect her, felt too much like what Arabesque had done.
On the other hand, she’d already had two panic attacks today. The first when she thought we were going to send her away, and the second when Arabesque appeared on my laptop screen. Her wounds were still so raw, her nervous system still primed for threats. Would knowing the specifics of the curse help her, or just give her new fears to struggle with?
