“Wait,” Odgar says. The bed creaks as he gets up and crosses to a cabinet on the other side of the room. He’s nude, as he’d been last night, and I can’t help but stare at the flexing muscles in his arse as he stalks off. I fight to keep my wits about medespite the desire building all over again. He collects something from a cabinet and strides toward me again. Draping a dusky blue material over my neck, he says, “I finally finished it.”
I frown, confused. The fabric is soft and fuzzy—woven. It’s warm—far too warm—against my neck. It takes me a moment to recognize that this is what he’s been working on since he first visited Paramount. “You knitted me a scarf?” My voice comes out as a whisper.
“Nalbound, not knitted.” He winks. “Remember? One needle versus?—”
“Odgar.”
He laughs. “But yes, I made this for you. I know the winters aren’t as harsh in Erleya, and I wish I’d finished this earlier but?—”
“Thank you,” I say, cutting him off. I inhale, my chest feeling crowded. This scarf isdefinitelytoo warm. The flush takes over my whole body, forcing me to step away from Odgar. I feel a tug toward him, my gaze settling on his lips, avoiding those eyes that I know can melt me. His muscular, tattooed chest isn’t any less inviting. I turn and briskly walk away. “And thank you for last night. Not the sex, but … you know.” I rush out of the cabin before I can hear whatever heartfelt thing he no doubt has to say.
Chapter 60
After I managedto convince Winnie to help me get Tiernan, as well as herself and her loved ones, out of Paramount, we all practice using the vanishing ring to jump from one place to another. Chiyo, Ava, and I jump from her house to the bathhouse. From the bathhouse to the forge. The first few times we vanish, I vomit as soon as my feet touch solid ground again. The others practice the same.
Practicing daywalking and dreamweaving, however, turns out to be easier on me than vanishing, but Alys still has to replenish my energy every now and then. Sloan is more than willing to let me practice on them as much as needed. With uncanny bravery, they let me turn their fears against them, inducing terrible images—like their sister being taken away—or replaying a memory that leaves them heartbroken that I haven’t dared to look too deeply into.
Haruka allows me to do the same, as does Chiyo and even Osheen. Isobel is reluctant to let me into her mind, and Ava wants nothing to do with any of this. I respect them both. But on the second day, Ava approaches me as I stand outside, hugging myself against the chill and watching the sun slowly sink behind the black mountains.
“You’re even madder than I thought if you believe I’m going to let you jump into the damn castle without me,” she says.
I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.
“You need to choose who’s coming along wisely. You need a balance of strengths and weaknesses. Your dreamweaving is impressive, you have a heart of gold, but you don’t have the head for combat. And Koko may be the most talented and versatile weapon wielder we have among us, but she can be impulsive.”
“Koko?”
Ava winces but continues as if she didn’t hear me. “I still think this is aterribleidea. Don’t get me wrong. But I’m not going to let you and Chiyo do it alone. You’re my blood. You’re going to need the lot of us to assist. Not to mention Isobel and Sloan should be backup.”
For a few heartbeats, I’m unsure how to react. Ava’s lips twitch, a smile fighting to get through.
“Alright,” I say. “So, what are you suggesting?”
Haruka sends word to her husband via enchanted parchment, asking him to connect us with a rebel safehouse. It takes only a day before a rolled notice appears on her table, with a single name on it and directions to use the parchment as a tether to jump to the correct location.
Holding the note, I take Ava’s hand while she takes Chiyo’s. It requires a lot of focus—not helped at all by Ava’s increasing impatience and my growing doubt—before we finally find ourselves tumbling through the abyss.
I expect us to land in a home somewhere in the Grounds, but instead we touch down in an empty room with shiny woodenfloors and ivory walls filled with framed paintings. Chiyo and Ava draw their weapons, and I spin, following the line of their gazes.
A young woman stands with her hands over her mouth and a now-broken wooden frame on the floor in front of her. She runs through the doorway behind her, strawberry blond hair billowing.
Not a moment later, an older man with thick grey hair and cunning cerulean eyes appears. He smiles and holds his hands up innocently, saying something that makes Chiyo sheath her dagger and Ava lower her sword.
“This is my da’s contact,” Chiyo signs. She slowly fingerspellsMurtagh. “We’re in a jewelry shop in Barr na Cahar. The safehouse.”
The man approaches us, and I struggle slightly to read the words on his lips. They’re slightly obstructed by his thick beard and mustache, and he has a thick accent, though it seems similar to Isobel’s and Sloan’s. “Apologies,” he says. “I never learned to sign. But welcome. I was expecting more of you.”
Ava explains that we left the others behind so we could gather information first. Murtagh leads us out of the gallery, bringing an oil lantern along with him. We follow him into the corridor where he opens a trapdoor that drops down to a narrow staircase. It grows darker as we descend, but Murtagh’s lamp does a well enough job until he’s able to light the sconces against the walls.
A common area becomes visible, a large couch, area rug, and brick fireplace making the space cozier. There are a couple other doors that Ava insists on checking, leading to several bedchambers and a bath chamber.
Once satisfied, Ava takes the vanishing ring and goes to fetch the others two by two.
We’re all gathered in the sitting room before long, discussing the mission over tea. We’re joined by Murtagh’s daughters—Siobhan, the strawberry blond who we’d scared earlier, and her older sister, Kenna, a tall, silver-haired woman with eyes that shift from blue to bright green as she regards us. They couldn’t be more different. Siobhan is reserved, but clever and conversational, while Kenna is animated, her excessive gestures confusing my senses as she speaks.
She bears tiny white scars on her face and the backs of her hands. A dark bruise stands out on her otherwise smooth pink face and more across the knuckles of her right hand. She continuously refills everyone’s teacups and fetches more pastries from the kitchen, courtesy of Siobhan.
By the end of the night, we all retire to our rooms. I still feel bereft without Tiernan, but hopefully soon, I’ll be reunited with him.
