Viggo murmurs acknowledgment.
Danhy nods.
Tage looks suddenly cross, as though resenting the topic. It must be the reminder of what I am...and my incongruence here, with them, withhim, that he dislikes.
I glance at myself as though I can see what they’re talking about, but I see nothing. No pale glow. No hint of yellow or pink. Just air.
“I was telling Arden the skelm used to keep a witch, but she escaped. I’m sure there are others in these mountains. Oh, and there are the harpies. I know where we can find them. They have a nest not far from here. Perhaps they—”
“Harpies are not the same as witches,” Tage says dismissively.
“But aren’t they distantly related? Centuries ago? The first harpies were witches cursed in some spat by other witches, no?”
Viggo nods thoughtfully. “I heard something like that.” He shrugs as though it’s of little matter. “Harpies are vicious creatures.” He shudders. “A pack of them can take down a dragon.”
“Why do you think I know where their nest is?” Merik agrees with wide eyes. “I’m careful to avoid their territory.”
“Rumors. Myth.” Tage dips a piece of crusty bread into a rich oil swimming with herbs and verdaberries that is so delicious I could drink the stuff straight from the bowl. His tongue darts to snatch a drop of sauce off his lip and my stomach quivers for reasons that have nothing to do with hunger. At least not the kind of hunger associated with food. “They’re older than mere centuries. Harpies have been around as long as dragons. Only the Old Ones could tell us of their origin, and they’re not around anymore.”
“The Old Ones?” I whisper.
“The original dragons, our ancestors. They went to ground, burying themselves deep beneath the mountains following our defeat in the Threshing and the shadow witch’s curse. They won’t be surfacing again. They’ve left this world to us. This is our era now.” Danhy’s lip curls a bit, as though evensheis disgusted with her existence, a watered-down dragon where once only full dragons dominated this world.
“We could still find a witch,” Merik suggests a touch eagerly. “We can detect them, after all. It wouldn’t be that hard.”
I sit up a little straighter at the offer, looking from Merik to Tage.
Tage merely grunts as he continues to eat, his big hand reaching for more bread.
“We could travel down to the Borg, walk and blend in among them. In a city that large, we would be bound to discover a witch that we could—”
“We’re not traveling to the Borg to find a witch,” Tage cuts in smoothly with a hard finality that makes me blink. “Put the idea from your head.”
Merik looks a fraction disappointed to be shut down so decisively. His newness to the group clearly makes him unsure of his place.
“Why would you want to invite a witch into our sphere?” Danhy looks horrified at the suggestion. “They’re monsters.”
I blink at that, knowing I had thought the same thing about dragons not very long ago.
Even Viggo shakes his head. “No good ever came out of dealing with a witch.”
I give a small huff of a laugh, supposing I am proof of that.
Tage then turns the subject to tasks they need to complete in the coming days, quizzing everyone on their duties. With winter deepening its hold, there is much to do.
I angle my head, studying Tage’s profile, wondering why he would not even consider the merit of Merik’s idea. It’s like he doesn’t want to consider the possibility of finding a witch, as though he’s deliberately avoiding the subject of my curse and finally ending it—ending the spell that makes it impossible to shade my memory.
I let that thought sink into me, realizing that if the spell were to be broken, they would have to shade me.
Arvos would succeed in doing what he does—wiping the memory of humans.My memory.
My memory would be wiped. Erased forever. It would be as though none of this ever happened.
They could let me go and turn me free with no memory of dragons.
With no memory of Tage.
My stomach cramps at the idea.
