As I drew closer to Raana, my gaze sharpened on a section of the forest I hadn’t sought out in years. But talking with Millie brought up curious memories I’d long forgotten and, though I needed to be in Erzan soon to meet with a builder, I found myself tilting my wings, veering inland and dropping closer to the canopies. I circled overhead, my eyes sweeping, roving, until I found the telltale mark of a silver tree, following the path until I located the open clearing.
Landing with a gentle thud into the fuzzy, spongey, blackened moss that sprawled across the forest floor, I straightened to inspect the cottage I’d very nearly forgotten.
Or chose to forget,I amended silently.
I’d landed at the back of the cottage, where the shade of the canopies nearly blotted out the bright afternoon sun entirely. I went to the spot I remembered clearly. The secret thing I’d done—something Azur didn’t even know—though it had been Ruaala’s final wish.
Just beyond the decaying, crumbling wood fence of the cottage’s back garden, underneath a bleeding tree, there it was.
The moss had smoothed with time. No one would know. Except me.
Crouching down, I touched the earth, spreading my hand wide. Even now, my belly roiled with dread and discomfort.
Unnatural,I thought. Even now, I still found it unnatural.
And for the hundredth time, I wondered if I’d done the right thing.
It wasn’t my right to question it, I knew. Ruaala had made her choice. Shivering, I felt an icy touch crawl over the nape of my neck. I waited until it ceased.
With a sharp sigh, I rose. That was when I noticed the stack of logs tumbled into a pile at the edge of the clearing. I frowned. The undersides of the wood were exposed, revealing deep black wood not covered in moss. They’d been moved recently.
Rounding to the front of the cottage, I looked at it with an assessing, grim gaze. Looters? I didn’t think bandits and thieves would dare to venture inside Stellara, especially this far.Lyvins? What would those hungry beasts care for wood?
Just beyond the front door, the interior furnishings had been placed outside. A table. Two chairs, one with a broken leg. A rusted black cauldron. A metal basin. A rotting rug. A bucket with a dirtied rag hanging off the edge.
“What in Raazos’s blood…” I murmured quietly, my hand unconsciously reaching for the dagger at my hip.
Footsteps behind me, coming through the trees.
Immediately, my ears tipped toward the sound. A moment later, a growl reverberated up my chest, and I swung around to face the intruder—or the beast—dragging my blade out from its concealed sheath with a whispery hiss. My muscles tensed, preparing to leap.
My gaze widened, a curse falling from my lips, when I met shocked—and wary—hazel eyes.
“Millie.”
The human woman stood frozen on the edge of the clearing, staring at the dagger in my hand, which I hastily replaced at my hip.
“Fuck. What are you doing here?” I bit out angrily.
Only when the weapon was concealed did she meet my eyes.
“Kythel?”
My name on her lips made me shiver more than the icy touch of the soul on my neck. I didn’t even think she realized she’d used my actual name in her shock.
“What areyoudoing here?” she asked, turning the question around on me, stepping from the clearing. Her hazel eyes gleamed in the sunlight. I’d only ever seen her in the archives during the daytime. Every other interaction had been at night.
Considering my frustrating and bewildering fascination with this slip of a female, I could do without knowing that the sunlight warmed her skin beautifully. I could do without knowing that her cheeks shone pink and that there were strands of molten gold shimmering through her dark yellow hair. Small details that didn’t need to be imprinted into my mind that I would think about late into the night.
She was wearing a dirtied white tunic that hung past her hips and tanned brown pants that looked two sizes too big. The sole on her left black boot was loosened, flipping open at the tip with every step.
She had a bulky dark blue pack strapped to her back, and she looked comically small underneath it. Hanging from her hands was another bucket, one that had a hole in its side, and from this distance I saw it was filled with jars of varying colors and numerous gray cloths shoved along the edges.
Millie stepped toward me. The closer she came the further my neck tilted down to meet her eyes. I was still tense, an ancient instinct still prepared to battle, my hand itching for a weapon. Kylorr didn’t like to be taken by surprise.
“What are you doing here?” I asked once more, the question clipped. I was still angry. Pissed off. She shouldn’t be here.Hereof all places.
“How do you know about this place?” she asked, ignoring my question yet again, which only made my hackles rise.
