Just a thin slice of silver.
It was enough.
The spirit wrenched its mouth open to shriek. No sound came from it. It began to blur, to twist, to writhe. I’d barely blinked before it pooled like liquid silver in the basin and slithered—slowly, as if it were still fighting its fate—back into the mirror.
The wind never lies.
The words chimed through me while I leaned over the basin, retching as bile burned the back of my throat. The wind never lies. What was I supposed to do with this? Useless spirit. Foolish madness, driving me to such unwise deeds as freeing the spirit of the evil dead. For nothing. It had been for nothing.
I returned to the chamber and I wept.
ELEVEN
That look of murder suits you.
It grew colder and colder.
The spirit of the hearth was furious with me, and the firewood refused, even after I had lit a stick of incense, to burn. Soon, glittering frost crept over the window. It served me right. I’d been foolish and callous, and I ached with regret.
You are mad.
How it gnawed at me. How I wished I’d never said, neverthought, such horrid things. Oh, to return to the solitude of my mountain shelter, where I was alone, as fate had decreed, among rock and dead things—
I must have become so snug in the dark hole I’d dug, I'd fallen asleep in it. A knock tore me awake, saving me from nightmares of flesh beasts and melting mirrors.
Adrik swept into the room. “The stoves are out,” he said as he hurried briskly to the hearth.
I’d always considered myself a prideful person, not easily swayed to apologize—but it turned out I could bear his coldness even less than his cheer. “I am sorry.” The words slippedbrokenly from me. “I spoke without thinking. I am unused to being around people—”
“A convenient excuse, I reckon.” There was no sharpness in Adrik’s tone, just weariness. He remained by the hearth, refusing to look at me. “To pretend your callousness stems from anything other than fear. You know what I think? I think it’s easier to pretend you were unaware of your words than to admit that you chose them deliberately to push me away.”
It took all my restraint not to prove him right on the spot. I bit back a venomous retort. “You did not let me finish. Humor me for a moment, will you?”
He glanced at me, brow raised. With a huff he stood, the hearth still cold, and leaned with crossed arms against the armoire. “Fine.”
“I was about to say—before you so rudely interrupted me—that it’s been ten winters since I remained long enough in one place to learn more about someone than their name. I’d done well pretending it did not bother me before I came here.” I did not look at him as I spoke, but I felt him soften. The hollowness retreated and the flame in the hearth dared a small flicker. I said quietly, “I realize how lonely I was only now that I’m no longer alone. I wonder… I wonder how I’ll survive solitude now that I remember closeness. You’ve reminded me painfully that there are people worth knowing. I quite hate you for it. I hate Zora’s tea, Lorell’s grumbles, Sai’s pastries, and Bahra’s rants. I hate your stupid embroidered socks and your stories. I hate it only because I know it will make me sad to leave.”
Adrik’s lips quivered. “What was that about my socks?”
“I find them incredibly endearing,” I said with irritation and flaming cheeks. I gathered what little courage I possessed to add quietly, “The truth is that—with you—I forget that I’m not here by choice."
“You would not be the first traveller to fall under this town’s spell. Would it be so bad? To stay?”
“Not bad." I’d failed miserably in my quest to find a secret. How was I ever to secure a favor? “Just impossible.”
“Right,” he said, a little harshly. “Your lover awaits in Eldevale.”
“Ask me again,” I whispered. “Ask me again what I hoped to find in the wasteland. Ask me again whether I was hunting or running.”
He contemplated me for a moment. “Will you tell me who hunts you?”
“Does it matter?”
He smiled—nothing sweet or cheerful about it. It was a vicious thing, that smile, making me lose my breath a little. Not from fear, but from something within me that had always had a fondness for wild and dangerous things.
“I am an exceptionallytalented swordsman, Evana.”
“Of course you are,” I said with a hoarse laugh. “Well, if you ever cross paths with a rot-faerie from the Ravenwoods or his hounds, I’d love if you could skewer him with your sword.”
