At first I thought it was dawn, pink light from the sun stretching against the room. But then I realized it was sunset, given the orientation. I hoped I’d only slept the day and not two. My body wasn’t as stiff as it’d been when I’d woken in Alaryk’s bed.
But my belly rumbled in hunger.
I sat up with a wince and a groan, my head pounding as the room spun. There was a bitterness on my tongue as I swung my legs gingerly over my bed. Someone had placed my mattress back up on the frame.
The cool stone beneath my bare feet felt nice. I let it center me before I rose, my legs a little shaky but growing stronger with every step.
The smell was coming from the kitchens, and I heard the rattle of dishware and the low murmuring of voices when I crept out into the deserted hallway.
Moak, Ulin, Syris, Tarkosh, and I were the only ones who lived in the hatchery—at least during this offseason. Syris told me during the hatching season, the rooms were usually filled, more apprentices having traveled from Grym. Ulin was someone I rarely saw, a quiet male who lived two doors down from me and often had the nests cleaned out before I even woke.
They were all in the kitchen when I leaned against the frame of the entrance. Tarkosh saw me first, her expression one of careful observation.
“There you are,” she said, which made the others look at her in confusion before they followed her gaze to me. “You must be hungry.”
“Amaia,” Syris said, jumping up from her seat. “On Muron’s blood, I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m all right,” I assured her, but I gladly took her arm as she guided me to the long table where the rest of them were sitting.
“Up for some stew? The farmer sent over a fine cut of meat,” Syris said. “I made it myself. I think it turned out well.”
“It did,” Moak chimed in. “Very well.”
He flashed a charming grin at my friend, who flushed but was already scurrying over to the pot.
“What’s been up with you?” Moak asked pointedly, pinning those eyes on me. “You look horrible.” His nostrils flared. “And smell horrible.”
“Thanks, Moak,” I murmured. I slid my gaze over to Tarkosh. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“Two days,” she murmured. “We have another hatchling.”
A stab of regret and frustration went through me. Two days. Lost again. Tarkosh must’ve thought I was a flake. I’d wanted to prove that Ishouldbe here. Instead I’d barely been showing my face this last week.
It looked bad.
“A Rythback?” I asked.
She inclined her head just as Syris slid a heaping bowl of stew in front of me, steam rising from the top. I was hungry, but I also felt vaguely nauseous.
“Go slowly,” Tarkosh murmured. “Moak, Ulin, out with you since you’re done. Leave her in peace. Moak, you don’t smell so great yourself. Go bathe while the washroom is free.”
Syris sat across from me, taking Moak’s place after he got up with a grumble. They left the kitchen, but Tarkosh lingered.
“I feel…I feel like I should explain,” I murmured, even though my throat was clogging up with fear. It was so imprinted on me that heartstone magic was something to be hidden. My mother had worried so much when I’d been growing up. She’d thought I’d let it slip accidentally and I’d be taken. I remembered her fearful whispers with my father late into the night, the timbre of his voice reverberating through my bedroom door in assurance.
Alaryk had told me that heartstone magic wasn’t persecuted here. I knew that. Logically, it didn’t make sense for me to be so concerned with shielding it.
Then again…there were Dakkari here. Dakkari with connections to the throne. And while the priestesses’ power had been snipped when the Heartstone Accords had been made last year, those with magic were still wary to show themselves.
“TheKarathbrought you here in the middle of the night,” Syris told me, her voice edged in hesitation. “When I saw you, I thought you were…dead.”
“Eat a bite first,” Tarkosh ordered me quietly. “I spoke with Alaryk. But I would like to hear whatever you wish to tell me. Syris…perhaps you should?—”
“She can stay,” I said quietly as I picked up my spoon and dipped it into the stew. It tasted like ash on my tongue, combining with the lingering bitterness. But at least it was hot. Ifelt it warm my frozen bones. And my second and third bites were much better, the flavor smoky. “It’s good, Syris. Thank you.”
She nibbled on her lip.
I sighed, replacing my spoon in the bowl and looking at both of them sitting across from me.
