Serill and Farrah had both made it twenty feet from the wall before shivering and going back to the camp.
And here Brela was, legs spread in a vee and as close as she could get to feel that shadow power without the harsh sting of rejection. Elias was the only one who braved getting as close as she did. He’d stared at the wall, poked a few of the dents, and played with some of the blackish-purple dust that had settled on the ground. Deeming it all useless, he’d opted to sit behind Brela as she sketched everythingbutthe wall in her notebook, untangling her braids as he explained what had happened the previous night.
When he started to re-braid, she waved him off. He only gave her a knowing grin, flipped back a few pages to one of her sketches, and flicked her nose before joining the others for dinner.
That was hours ago. Brela had given up hope that somehow the night sky would reveal anything more in the wall than small flickers of reflecting starlight.
She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to happen. She wasn’t about to test her shadow magic when she was still in Serill’s and Cason’s company, and it wasn’t like Ryia would open a gate and come out to answer all her questions.
Not that she’d listen to the shadow god anyway. She still planned to hold true to her promise to Elias. She’d give that bitch a piece of her mind, maybe introduce her to a blade or two, and then call on the last shadow spell she’d sketched into her notebook. Command that celvusa to rip the woman’s face off, then probably die herself.
Worth it.
Brela stuck her tongue out at the wall.
A laugh echoed behind her. “Even without being able to speak, you put that tongue to good use.”
She grinned and mocked a bow to the Prince of Severina.
“Not that I’m a fan of the circumstances,” Serill said, staring at the wall but keeping his distance, “but it is fascinating to watch your signing with Elias and Farrah.”
He’d asked them about it this morning, then pouted when Farrah refused to teach him any of the movements because she claimed it was the only way they could keep their secrets. Brela had finally convinced her to share only specific ones, like communicating during battles or heists when words would give away their plans. Those signs might actually be useful to them once they reached the Anfroy camp.
“You continue to surprise me, Brela.”
She raised her eyebrow.
Serill gestured to her and then the desert long behind them. “All of it. Surviving, taking on a vaarasuxa, being a famous assassin, trying to rip power from a celvusa… gods, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that youcasuallyjokedabout how you got that scar on your shoulder, let alone that you had the guts to try to take its power.”
Brela shrugged, which only made him roll his eyes.
“And thenthat. Acting like none of it is a big deal when you know it is.” She started to lift her shoulders but he raised a finger at her. “I swear, if you shrug one more time…”
She grinned, but refrained from finishing the gesture.
“And then you caught the attention of the Crown Prince of the Sand Sprites, another fascinating piece to the puzzle of… you.”
Oh, that got her interest.
Serill studied her for a moment. “You didn’t send us this way just to avoid Rooke, did you? And you didn’t really try to avoid Oni. You hoped he’d have answers, not just about the wall, but about you. About how the celvusa had found you and why it was at Gerrart’s house.”
Too clever, that’s what Oni had said about her company. It was a miracle the Prince of Severina hadn’t discovered more about her.
She nodded, but the frown conveyed the other emotion that Serill read in her eyes. Oni had no answers for her.
“I’m sorry.”
Brela sighed and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“That crystal crown would look good on you, though.”
She smacked his arm as he laughed and held his hands up in defense.
“Just saying, a crown and a dagger would make you ten times more terrifying than you already are. But, somewhat selfishly, I’m glad you didn’t accept.”
Brela folded her arms and made an obvious glance over his body, then pretended she would consider it.
“Good gods, you’re a handful.” Now Serill was the one to smack her.
