A shared sigh ripples through them, homesickness weaving an invisible thread that momentarily binds us together amid this foreign magic. I’m less attached to anyone outside of these people and my closest children, so I’m not as affected. It’s up to me to lift their spirits a little; it seems.
“Diaval and Dr. Easton would probably curse every bug and bramble by now,” I quip, attempting to lift the mood. Laughter flutters among us like a released bird, lightening our load.
Tiernan chuckles, the sound rich and warm. “They’re likely at their wits’ end with Khal, Fer, and Torben. I can’t imagine the chaos they’re causing.”
Fiadh glances sideways, her expression a mix of annoyance and amusement. “I miss being invisible sometimes,” she confesses, her gaze flickering to Revelin. “It was easier than being watched because you’re ‘with’ the Daybreak Prince.”
“Ah, you’ll get used to it,” Revelin replies, his laugh a melody that seems to make the very air shimmer.
She snorts, clearly unconvinced, and for a moment, her guard drops—a warrior weary of the spotlight. But then she squares her shoulders, the familiar mask of the fierce Fiadh slipping back into place.
That’s our girl.
“Let’s keep moving,” I suggest, steering us onward. “The heart of the forest won’t reveal itself if we stand around baring our souls.”
We delve deeper into the embrace of the woods, the strange and beautiful Fae world unfolding before us, each step a dance between wonder and wariness. The trail we follow narrows, swallowing us into a silence that’s as heavy as the undergrowth. My steps are light, but the weight of the unknown presses down on me. Tiernan’s gaze flickers to mine, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. I weigh the pros and cons of telling the others more, but we promised not to hide things from Fiadh, so I give in as we walk.
“It troubles me that we still haven’t found the source of the leak,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper as if the trees themselves might be eavesdropping. “It could be anyone spilling all the tea for any of a million reasons.”
Tiernan’s eyes scan the canopy, obviously as frustrated as I about our failure. He looks at the flashlight beam from his phone in irritation before he mutters, “If they’re cursed or spelled, they might not even know they’re doing it.”
“Exactly.” I sigh, the burden of responsibility tightening like a noose. “And with a staff list longer than the royal decree, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Thankfully, my bandmates are clean,” Revelin says, though his usual jovial tone is edged with concern. “But Amethyst... If she’s not just stirring trouble for sport, we have a bigger problem.” He kicks at a fallen branch, sending it skittering across the mossy floor. “Since she’s bound to the tour by the promise of my idiot father, she’s woven herself into us more tightly than I thought.”
Hushed by our grim thoughts, we continue on until a sudden crackling from the underbrush draws our attention. Instinctively, we halt, forming a tight circle back-to-back. A satyr, all smiles and mischief, emerges, his hooves crunching on dried leaves.
“Friends of the forest, welcome,” he calls out, his voice lilting with an unnatural cheer.
Trust nothing that pops out of the shadows, even if it’s gleeful.
Revelin doesn’t tense, but Fiadh’s reaction is immediate and fierce. She unsheathes her blades, their metal singing a chilling duet. “I’ve heard tales of your kind. Not all of you are as friendly as you pretend,” she hisses, poised and ready.
“Your burned friend,” I murmur, recalling her connection to the satyr at home. “He must have told you stories about satyrs in the wild.”
“If our witch says not to trust you, we don’t,” Tiernan adds, his own hand dropping to his weapon. “Stay back.”
“Oh, but let us converse, travelers. What harm can words do?” the satyr proposes, grinning widely, yet his eyes dart about, seeking something unseen.
That shiftiness gets my attention and I let my vampiric senses stretch outward as my eyes turn red. There’s nothing here that can escape my notice if I’m not putting on the facade of a human.
“Words can be poison,” Revelin counters, stepping forward. His hand goes to the hilt of his sword, and there’s a shift in the air, a charge that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
The Prince senses danger, too.
“Whoa, whoa, no need for—” the satyr starts, but it’s too late to talk any of us down.
“Enough,” I say sharply, cutting him off as I notice shadows shifting among the trees—watchers hidden in the dappled light.
Revelin reacts with the swiftness of legend, his blade drawn in a flash. Magic spills forth, radiant and blinding, cascading like a sunrise through the forest. The Daybreak Prince stands illuminated, a beacon against the dark.
I have to fight off the smirk as our girl stares in amazement. Her ridiculous school really did both girls an enormous disservice in their education and I plan to bring that up with the Night District and vampire reps when we get home. Mages, witches, and their ilk are woefully unprepared for the world outside of Briarvale and it’s dangerous.
As a business owner, I won’t stand for it.
Suddenly, a yelp shatters the Prince’s enchantment. The satyr turns tail and flees, vanishing into the thick brush from which he came. I watch carefully as he goes, making certain all the eyes and shadows I sense recede with him.
“Damn,” Fiadh curses under her breath, lowering her weapons. Beside her, Khol’s scowl mirrors her disappointment. “We could’ve handled that.”
