My eyes flick open. Fireflies dance in the air, creating a clear path.
Trust us.
Nothing bad can come from following a set of mysterious insects I have forged a connection with... right?
Chapter
Twenty-Five
“Is nobody else alarmed about the glowing insects lighting our way?” Charming grumbles as we trudge across the snow. I marvel at the satisfying crunch underneath my booted feet. The fur cloak skims the ground, gathering more and more weight.
Malachi chuckles as his arm brushes against mine. “Of all the things that have happened to us over the last few diurnals, this is the least weird thing.”
“Do you think they are leading us to the Grimms?” Nash wonders.
I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I asked for.”
“Why the Blazes not?” Charming snaps.
I shrug. “My heart tells me we aren’t there yet.”
Nash reaches up to pull on a snow-laden branch. He releases it into the air, and the snow flies up before sprinkling like diamonds. “What did you ask for?” he asks as he glances at me over his shoulder.
“Somewhere safe to rest, where we can get food, sleep, and regroup while we take a breath.”
“That’s smart,” Gwyneth agrees.
I think that’s the first time anyone has ever called me smart. We really are in a different world.
“I’m not sure I like snow,” Theo grumbles as he huffs a plume of fire that sends my glowing bug friends scattering.
“Hey! No burning my sidekicks!” I snap, hands on my hips.
“Oh, no. No more sidekicks,” Hart declares.
I stumble and gasp. “Oh my Idols, we have to go back.”
Everyone stops. “Why?” Nash demands.
“Not a chance,” Charming grumbles
“We left Hamish and Eugene behind.”
“I take it back. We must return,” Charming declares as he spins on his heel and begins walking back from where we came. Who’d have thought we’d ever agree on something?
The genie winks at me and produces my capons.
“You have them?” I whisper in awe. “Thank you.”
Charming hurries back to us. Amusement plays on my sister’s face as he fusses with the feathered pair. They cluck unhappily at the snow, and Hamish releases a high-pitched shriek as something stirs in the dense forest.
“Put them back,” I whisper. “They clearly don’t enjoy the cold. It must be hard on their feet.”
The genie scoops them up into his arms and stares at Eugene solemnly. “You will not deposit your eggs on my furniture.” Eugene pecks his nose. “Fine, the armchair is your only nest. Keep your feathery butt off my silk rug.” They disappear. Where does he put them? In his lamp? Can I visit sometime?
“Is all well, handsome Harold?” Eron shouts from Hart’s clothing, making Malachi snort. Aww, he’s grown to encompass my knights and is even getting their names wrong.
“All is well, but I’ll keep you hidden away while we traverse this new land,” Hart reassures him. Good idea. We don’t want to alarm the locals with talking mirrors.
