Iris takes a freshly fletched arrow shaft from Glen and tests its balance. Watching them together – her spirited and resourceful, him doting and dependable – reminds me of my parents. I was ten when my mother died giving birth to Renly. My memories are somewhat hazy, but something I recall with absolute clarity is the way my father used to look at her. It was an expression of utter contentment coupled with just a little dash of surprise, as though he couldn’t quite believe he was getting to breathe the same air as her, letalone spend his life with her. That is, until he couldn’t. Her death shattered him beyond repair.
Since then, I suppose I’ve always found the idea oflovea little terrifying. From what I’ve seen, it only ever ends in pain. I think of my father’s silent grief, of Seraphine’s keening wails, of the way Elaith’s spark dulls every time Cole passes her over for another.
Hearts are fragile, so easily broken. It’s why I choose to keep things light, casual. To have fun, without having to worry aboutfeelings.
I glance over to where Sheen is speaking quietly with Iris, having moved across to examine her work. The fire casts strange shadows along his sharp cheekbones.
Spinner snaps her fingers in front of my face. ‘Flint?’
I blink. ‘What?’
‘Isaid, we should leave before nightfall, give ourselves time to set up camp.’
‘Sure,’ I say, as she entwines her gloved fingers with my own.
It’s not long before Iris presents my bow, complete with a full quiver of arrows. It’s beautiful – sleek, lightweight, delicate, yet entirely robust. It’s a far superior model to my old one. For the first time in weeks, I don’t feel utterly defenceless.
I nock an arrow and draw back the string.
‘Careful!’ Spinner yelps.
‘Relax, I’m just testing it out.’ I turn back to Iris. ‘How much?’
I’d have paid double what she asks for a bow like this, so I hand over several pieces of silver, which she’s not too proud to accept.
Though I’ve barely set one foot outside when a voice behind me calls, ‘Wait!’
Iris appears in the doorway, holding a small packet. Upon closer examination, I see that it’s filled with a number of dried leaves.
‘What’s this?’
‘Dillweed,’ she replies. ‘For your eye. Whenever the pain gets too much, chew on a couple of these.’
‘Oh,’ I say, first taken aback, then touched. ‘Thank you.’
‘Be careful,’ Iris says as Sheen marches off into the pale evening light, Spinner and I following in his wake. ‘There’s more than just bandits to contend with in the Greenwood. It’s home to tree nymphs, commonly known as dryads, though some call them sirens of the forest. They’ll try to trick you, lure you in so deep you’ll never find your way out again. Remember, never eat anything that grows in there, and try to vary your path. If you hear your name, don’t respond. Turn and walk away in the opposite direction.’
‘And whatever you do, keep your wits about you,’ warns Glen.
‘Don’t worry,’ I call over my shoulder, slinging an arm round Spinner. ‘I have more than enough wit for the three of us.’
30
Blaze
After the peaceful tranquillity of the forest, the bustling province of Wellwall is something of a shock to the system. All around us, the air is thick – from the acrid grey smoke funnelling out of crooked chimneys to the sweet-smelling, multi-coloured vapour lingering above stalls selling anything from love potions to honeycakes. Terrathian men in green waistcoats spill out of taverns, puffing on cherrywood pipes, or stand gathered round fires built to ward off the cool breeze blowing in from the north.
Judging by the unseasonable chill in the air, it appears King Balen is growing restless.
My gaze lingers on the chain round Fox’s neck, trying not to smirk as I picture his uncle holed up in the Marble Palace, puzzling over a useless replica. I only wonder how long it’ll take him to find out the truth – about the Eyes, and about Grandmother’s decoys.
We wouldn’t have risked coming here at all if it weren’t for Cedar throwing a shoe. He’s plodding along grumpily,muzzle twitching as we pass a cart of shiny pink apples. Fox gives in and buys him one, tossing another to me. I catch it deftly in one hand.
He nods approvingly. ‘Your reflexes are getting better.’
‘I know,’ I reply, a little smugly.
The corners of his mouth quirk upward. I’m just raising the apple to my lips when he snatches it right out of my grip and takes a large bite.
