I ease her forward, adjusting the pillows behind her back. She nods toward the tray on her bedside table. "The soup's terrible. I think the acolytes are trying to poison me."
But the bowl is empty. She finished it anyway, because Blaire and I both know what it's like to go hungry. Food is precious, even when it tastes like boiled leather.
Her good hand finds mine, careful of her bandaged wrists. "When did you last eat?"
"This morning," I lie.
She gives me a look. "The kitchens made honey cakes. Your favorite."
"I'm not hungry," I mutter. I glance toward the window where children's voices drift up from below, high and sweet as they sing the Isolwen's Songs. They don't know that their peaceful kingdom balances on the edge of a blade.
"I hate not knowing," I admit quietly. "The fae have gone silent. There hasn't been a single wyvern scout in weeks."
Blaire shifts against the pillows, wincing as the movement pulls at her bandaged shoulder. "They're planning something."
I nod slowly.
"We need real intelligence. Not guesswork or rumors," she continues.
I lean forward. "What do you suggest?"
"There's a small town called Greenvale on the triple border where Aelfheim meets Avalon and Myrkheim." She meets my eyes, a hint of her old confidence returning. "Merchants and travelers pass through constantly. Information flows like water there. If the fae are planning something big, someone there will know."
My brow furrows. "You want me to send scouts?"
"I'll go there myself once I've healed enough." She holds up her good hand before I can protest. "Hear me out. You show up with an armed company, everyone clams up or runs. But one person traveling quietly, asking the right questions—"
My chest tightens. "I just got you back. It's too dangerous."
"Everything's dangerous now." She exhales slowly. "This might be our only chance."
"There's a pleasure house in the village called the Painted Moth." Blaire shifts in her seat. "Fae commanders go there. They drink, they talk. I can get in as a worker. Gather what intelligence I can about Eirik's plans."
"Maybe I could go," I offer.
"You can't read minds."
"But I can read people." I tilt my head slightly. "Let me do this, Blaire."
She studies me for a long moment. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken concerns. Finally, something in her expression shifts.
"I wasn't sold on the whole vampire thing at first." A rueful smile touches her lips. "But he's good for you. Svenn."
Just hearing his name makes my chest tighten with longing. I try to keep my face neutral, but Blaire has always seen through my masks.
She sighs softly. "You miss him terribly, don't you?"
I can only nod. The ache of his absence sits like a stone in my throat.
She squeezes my hand gently. "He's doing this because he loves you."
Something in her certainty makes me pause. "Did you read his mind?"
Her expression turns almost wistful. "No. He's different. His thoughts are a complete void."
Blaire's gift has been part of her for as long as I've known her. Back in Astefar she could slip into minds and guide us away from danger. We were just two desperate girls trying to survive then. She always knew which villagers were plotting to sell us to the slavers and which ships carried chains in their holds. Her ability to hear the unspoken became our compass through those dark years.
"It's unsettling. I think it's because vampires are already dead." She frowns slightly, considering.
