She looks at me sideways. “Is that one of your predictions or just an opinion? Could you try to be more specific? What month do you think, because I think spring might be nice and?—”
“Stop,” I cut her off laughing. “I don’t get predictions. I don’t know. Winter maybe? Just let it go.”
She huffs, muttering something about “impossible children” and I turn back to the window.
Before long, the ribbon of green light unfurls across the stars like a banner. More follow—shimmering curtains of pink and violet and turquoise that pulse and ripple overhead. Beatrix jumps up from her chair and pulls me over to hang out of the window for a closer look.
“I thought you would want to go see them up close this year,” Beatrix says, her face glowing magenta with the reflection of the lights overhead.
“We’ve been so busy,” I say defensively. “I haven’t changed my mind about leaving, I just got…distracted, I suppose.”
“Of course, dear. It’s not as if I want you to go. If you decide never to leave Storia that would be fine. More than fine. I just know that’s what you’ve always wanted to do.”
“Mmm,” I hum, noncommittally.
“Alright, dear.” Beatrix pats my arm in a motherly way, then pauses, as if unsure if she should say something else. After a moment she adds: “If you decide to go next year, be sure to talk to me first.”
I frown, tearing my gaze from the lights to look at her. “Why?”
She waves off the question as if it doesn’t matter. “I just think I could give you some pointers that would help.”
“Thanks.” I put my head on her shoulder, and watch the lights dancing in the sky. “Maybe next year.”
It’s later than I intended when I finally walk down to the barracks, but the sky is still incredibly bright. The lights are still dancing over the trees, and an enormous full moon hangs between them. Somehow, that combination feels extra lucky. Magical, even.
Inside, a few soldiers wave to me as I race down the long hall. I nod back, keeping my eyes averted as much as possible.
I know the soldiers have seen me here before, and probably know why; it’s not as if we’ve taken care to be quiet. None of them has ever said anything about it, though. They’re all terrified of Fox, and a lot of them fear me too, both because of my magic and because of all the times I’ve beaten them all while sparring.
I reach Fox’s door and knock once before letting myself inside, only to stop short on the threshold.
He’s not here.
My stomach lurches with disappointment, and something that feels a lot like hurt.
It’s my birthday. Wouldn’t Fox assume I might come to his room tonight? He was there during breakfast this morning when everyone was celebrating, and even gave me a beautiful set of throwing knives.
Still, I’d thought…nothing. Never mind.
Whatever I’d thought, I was wrong. There’s no point getting upset about it when there’s nothing to be upset about.
Leaving the barracks at a near run, I can hear a wolf howling at the full moon, which doesn’t look nearly so magical as I dash back across the courtyard to the manor.
After my birthday, I don’t go to Fox’s room for a month.
He never says anything about it or acts any differently toward me. I actually might have thought he didn’t notice at all, except that he’s been growing incredibly irritable toward the soldiers the longer time wears on. By the end of February, Fox has become so savage during training that everyone starts to notice.
“I don’t understand what happened,” Alix complains to me and Odessa over tea one afternoon. “Daemon said Fox was in a much better mood lately, so we assumed the soldiers were improving, but now it’s like we’re back to square one and he’s giving Navy seal bootcamp meets fraternity hell week. I swear to God, dude needs to get laid.”
Odessa and I glance at each other, and she shrugs. Alix is always using human phrases that we don’t understand, but pointing it out to her gets so tedious that most of the time we try to keep up through context. This time, though, I can’t even begin to pick apart what she’s trying to say.
Alix seems to realize this on her own, because she takes another sip of her tea and rephrases. “Sorry. I meant, we know that turning all those guards into real soldiers was a huge undertaking, and we thought things were going better, but clearly not.”
“Ah, got it,” Odessa smiles. “But what’s laid?”
“Fucked,” Alix says bluntly. “I’m saying he seems stressed and should probably work out that tension some other way—sorry, Aurelia, are you alright?”
“Yes,” I cough. “Sorry. Swallowed my tea wrong.”
