“You also need to get the pieces and see if they fit,” Alma adds. “And Bastian needs to calculate perfect twilight.”
I straighten. “Do you think we’re the first to figure this out?” When my hand lifts off the element, the light snuffs out right away, and the cradle grinds back up, smoothing until its outline melts into the dark enamel.
Adrien releases his hold on his element and presses himself up. “Our parents definitely didn’t know, because if they had, we wouldn’t be starting from scratch.”
“Unless they can’t be cradled individually . . .” I hold on to the hope that this isn’t true, though. That the last generation didn’t uncover the cradles. “Papa never talked about it, so they probably didn’t know.”
The mention of my father seems to make Slate’s biceps bulge under the athletic T-shirt.
“So, astronomical twilight starts at six fifty-three tonight and ends at seven-thirty.” Bastian flashes us the screen on his phone. Not that I can see it from where I stand all the way across from him.
Adrien glances toward his wristwatch. “That’s in two hours.”
I stare at the loop of the Quatrefoil that swoops toward my element. I stare at the spot where the enamel dipped in preparation to receive my leaf.
A leaf that has yet to show itself.
A leaf I have yet to earn.
A battle that will determine whether Slate lives or dies.
45
Slate
Adrien, Gaëlle, and I each hold our wrapped pieces like they’re made of glass as we climb the hill. The wind is bitter tonight, made even more so by the clinging fog. Cadence is at the head of our snail-paced procession, beaming a flashlight she grabbed from the tavern where she waited with Alma and Bastian while we retrieved our pieces.
She hadn’t wanted to bump into her father. Claimed she wasn’t ready to see him yet. She’ll forgive him eventually I suppose, even though I won’t.
“Six forty-seven,” Alma chimes from below. Far below.
The same way Cadence is several steps ahead of me.
I hadn’t wanted her, Alma, and Bastian to come at all, but they proved a bunch of stubborn asses. As long as they don’t brush up against us, they should be fine, but the stairs are slippery as fuck. My heart has stopped twice already. Once, when we hit the top of Third Kelc’h and Cadence skidded, thankfully falling forward, on her knees. If she’d hurtled down the stairs, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. The second time I almost had a heart attack was when I heard Gaëlle squeak, “My leaf!” It had slipped from her gloved hand and glided down two steps, falling inches from Bastian’s feet. I don’t usually yell at women, but I roared at her, told her to take off her damn gloves. And then I’d apologized, blaming my nerves, which were firing like a plug plunged into water.
The last time I felt this way, like my body was buried inside an ant farm, was in the well. I focus on that as I climb the circles.
Focus on how I defeated the siren.
When we reach Fifth, I expel a tight breath. “Cadence, get farther away,” I order, forgoing any pleases.
She nods, her skin moon-white in the wisps of fog curling around her body, and backs up, flashlight splashing the carpet of snow underneath her boots. She’s been pale since the tavern. She got even paler after she stepped out of the kitchen with Nolwenn. When I asked her what was wrong, she passed off her anxiety as dread, dread for the battle she still had to wage, dread for what might happen when we lock our leaves into the clock.
Yes, it’s crossed my mind that it might set forth a bunch of bad things. I said as much to Adrien on our way to the De Morel manor. It made him so skittish he suggested holding off until Cadence got her piece. And we almost did, but then I looked at the ring and told him that I, at least, needed to lock my piece in.
In case . . .
When we rang the doorbell, Rainier had seemed about ready to spring out of his wheelchair and clobber me. But Adrien stepped between us and explained our discovery. That had quieted the old man, who confessed to not knowing about the cradles. Although a liar, his gaping-fish mouth told me he really had no clue about thedihuner’s role in the hunt.
Lost in thought, I don’t realize Cadence has fallen into step beside me. I stop so suddenly that she halts, too.
“Do you have a death wish? Get away from me,” I growl.
At first, she looks offended. Then her eyes flare with anger. “Fine.” She stalks off toward the library.
I don’t care if I piss her off right now. I need her to be safe.
As I start up again, I sweep the obscurity around me to map out everyone else’s locations. Thankfully, they’re all satisfactorily social distancing. When we reach the library, Cadence is fitting the key into the lock. Her hands shake, which makes it jangle. Soon, though, she has the door open and the lights on.
