Blaire set a tray of food on the table. “Bah. Take a day off. You pixies never rest.”
Anna exchanged a glance with Kywyn, and he Signed,Rest?, to which she laughed.
A common complaint in the realm was that pixies worked toohard, never took breaks, expected too much. But that was how one improved, increased stamina, perfected technique. Without hard work, none of it was possible.
Tribe eternal, she Signed back, the chant of unity.
Cole sat beside Anna just as the bell rang. She stretched her neck to watch Sean poke his head in the crack at the front door.
“Isobel was still sleeping,” he said, “but look who I brought.”
Autumn bounded into the room behind Sean, smiley as ever, and a thrill of panic rose in Anna’s throat. Autumn Farraday, the mind reader, was the only person who might unearth her secret.
Anna took a deep drink of tea. All she had to do was…not think about it. Easy enough.
“Great,” Cole muttered under his breath. “The psycho girl.”
She leaned his way. “What’s that mean?”
He shook his head as Sean entered the cookery and did a double take at Anna. “Anna? What—?” He gripped her wrist, the familiar pixie spark shimmering up her arm.
“I crashed here,” she said. “My best friend wasusingour quarters last night. Loudly.”
“Ah.” Sean kissed his aunt on the cheek, then again on the temple with a chuckle. “Still can’t get used to that. Thank you for breakfast. Have you seen where they want me to eat?”
“The Great Terrace is designed for the noble families, Sean,” Blaire said. “It’s where you hold court.”
“I have no court,” he said.
She bopped him affectionately over the head. “It’s not so bad down there.”
“Yes, we have the finest brownie chefs,” Kywyn said, then cast a wide-eyed glance at her. “Not that this is bad?—”
“Shut up,” Blaire said with a roll of her eyes.
Sean gave his father a shoulder squeeze, then poured himself and Autumn a cup of tea, returning his attention to Anna. “Any chance Cathaire will take it easy on us after a long night?”
Kywyn shot him a raised brow. “Unlikely. Blademasters are relentless.”
“Aren’tyoua Blademaster?” Sean asked.
“Yes,” his father said, reaching for a scone. “But I am not your trainer.”
Sean sat beside Cole and cast Anna a wink. “Maybe we can bribe ours.”
His emotions still churned with their usual angst, bitter on Anna’s tongue, but a new thread of cheer formed a corkscrew around that anxiety, compressing it, sweetening it.
He seemed…happy?
Cole eyed him, suspicious. “You said Isobel is still asleep?”
Sean nodded.
“Up late, was she?”
Declining to answer, Sean smeared a liberal dollop of jam over a scone and shoved it into his mouth. Anna hid her amusement in a large sip of tea and locked knowing eyes with Blaire.
“Weren’t we all?” Autumn settled beside Anna. Her ruby hair was thrown haphazardly into a messy braid.
