ElenaandIwerewalking through a forest.But she was impossibly small—no older than three or four.She ran down the trail, tripped, skinned her knee, jumped back up, and continued on as if nothing had happened.
Father was there, guiding us to our favorite spot: the wishing well in the middle of the forest.A cool summer breeze made the trees sway, creating dancing shadows on the forest floor.
“Be careful, children,” he said as we ran up to the well to give our offering of seashells.Elena squeezed her eyes tight, then threw her shell in.A soft splash echoed up.
“Don’t ask me what I wished for,” Elena said to me with a stern look, “or it won’t come true.”
“I know that, silly fox,” I said, rubbing her hair.“Who do you think told you?”
I closed my eyes and wished that the boy at the farm next to ours would kiss me.Bren was his name.So far, it seemed like he had barely noticed me.My shell banged against the side of the well on the way down, making a sharp crack.
I thought I heard a mocking laugh, but when I looked up, Father and Elena were talking to each other softly.I spun around, looking for the source of the laugh.
“Did you hear it, too?”Father said, noticing my confusion.
“Where did it come from?”
“You can hear the whisperhawks, like me.See it?”He pointed up at a golden-and-brown hawk perched in a tree, looking down at us.“It’s your special gift.But you must keep it a secret.Tell no one.”
“I promise,” I said, though I longed to tell Bren.He was sure to be impressed.
The hawk stared at me with golden eyes, blazing like the sun.It tilted its head.There was something in its gaze.Not judgment exactly—more like it could peer into my soul.
Everything in the world darkened around me except for those two golden eyes.They moved toward me, getting closer and brighter.Soon I could make out the shape of a dark figure framing the eyes.The shape was familiar.I let out a gasp as it resolved into the golden-eyed thief.He was within reach, his features still obscured by the mask.I longed to rip it off.
“Who are you?”I said, but it came out as a choked gasp.
The figure opened its mouth to speak.
“Cas, it’s time to get up,” said four-year-old Elena, who had appeared next to me.
“We’ll be late,” her voice called again, more insistently, but this time from the edges of my perception, stirring me from my slumber.
A fucking dream.This golden-eyed thief had worked his way into my subconscious.
The sunlight was warm and bright on the backs of my eyelids, and I dragged the blanket over my head and buried my face in the pillow.The smell of hay mixed with burlap flooded my nose, comforting and familiar.
After discovering the secret message last night, I’d lain awake for a long time.How could I possibly sneak up to the top of that tree, which was heavily guarded and sequestered in the far reaches of the Citadel Gardens?Perhaps a scouting visit was called for…but maybe after a bit more sleep.I longed to return to the golden-eyed thief.
“Get down here, Cas!”my sister yelled from the room below.For a sweet girl of fourteen, her voice rivaled those of some of the best merchant barkers in the city, which came in handy when trying to sell wares but was less desirable when I was trying to sleep.
I blinked several times, shielding my eyes from the rays of sunshine streaking through gaps in the ceiling.Dust motes floated lazily through the beams of light, carried by a slight breeze that blew through the loft.
“If we don’t leave soon, we won’t get a good spot,” Elena pleaded.
“Coming,” I said, my voice raspy with phlegm.I cleared my throat, then lazily dragged myself out of bed.“What time is it, anyway?”
“Almost second bell.”
Shite.I reallyhadslept in.The best spots were always gone by second bell, with all the merchants eager to take advantage of the heavy foot traffic in the morning.After throwing on clothes, I opened the hatch to the loft and slid down the ladder, a thing I’d done so often that the wood had smoothed to a fine polish.
“He’s alive!”Elena quipped in a far-too-precocious tone.
I mumbled an unintelligible response.
Of the two of us, Elena was clearly our father’s daughter.She had his sharp wit and was already nearly as tall as I, with bright green eyes that gleamed above her heavily freckled nose.Dust, that dream about Father had been so vivid.I had forgotten just how much like him she was.Something inside me tightened, sharp and brief, like a plucked string.
Most who inspected Elena and me side by side wouldn’t suspect that we came from the same parents.I took after our mother, inheriting her dark features, slight build, and nimble fingers.But Elena and I were bound by more than blood.Every hardship, every scar, had helped forge the bond we shared.
