Page 114 of Blood of the Fairest

Her lashes flutter, and her gaze drops to my mouth. I cannot look away from her lips, either, and the small beauty mark posed above one corner. I dare not breathe, praying to the goddess that Verena will close the space between us.

Instead, she steps back to break the spell, pulling her hand away from mine.

"The dead wolf things. Where are they?"

I resist the urge to pull her closer once more and nod in the direction of the massacre. "Your stomach will not enjoy the sight."

Surely enough, when we reach the remains of the other leibwraiths, Verena makes a sound of distress, shutting her eyes. She covers her nose and mouth once more, so her voice comes out muffled.

"Holy fucking gross. Note to self: Never get ripped into a bajillion pieces by a bear."

"No other bear will touch you," I growl immediately, kicking aside a leibwraith head.

"I think I saw a bunch of nasty guts. Are those glowy things the souls?"

I look down at the spilled innards nearby, where the two glowing orbs lie upon the bloodied ground.

"Yes."

"Can you pick them up?"

When I try, my hands pass through them as if they are moonlight. I straighten and start to say they are immovable—but my attention snaps to a cloaked figure in the distance, moving toward us through the trees.

It slows when I spot it, maintaining a careful distance but not leaving.

One of the witchfolk.

The bones of common monsters like these are not valuable to them. Is it these disembodied souls that draw the witch?

If so…

"Perhaps you can," I tell Verena. "You possess the queen's magic."

"Shoot me now," she groans, eyes still shut. Then she inhales and exhales a few times quickly. "Okay. It's fine. They're just some slimy guts, Verena. You've touched guts before, and you survived. Do it for Little Red Riding Hood and the really pretty dresses you want to give Snow White. One, two, three—trauma time."

She opens her eyes and crouches, scooping up the souls with ease. It is difficult not to laugh at the expression she wears as she gags once more before turning to flee from the carnage.

We return to Ida's cottage, where Eris waits impatiently in the door's broken mirror. As a precaution, I retrieve my uncleaned axe from the carcass-covered ground before following Verena inside.

Though small, the old woman's house is tidy and filled with beautiful ornaments. Rolls of ribbons dangle along one wall beside countless colors of threads.

A mirror is mounted on another wall, since Ida is Ismerian and they cannot seem to go a day without admiring themselves.

A spinning wheel and a loom sit in one corner. Ida lies in her bed in the opposite corner. The wrinkled old woman stares at the ceiling, expressionless and unmoving aside from the rise and fall of her chest.

Just as Eris said, a girl stands nearby, a red hood pulled over her head. She appears to be slightly younger than Princess Snow White. A knife covered in monster blood remains in her hand, forgotten by the soulless girl who stares at nothing.

I am impressed that one so young could slay even one leibwraith before losing her soul. She must be fierce.

"Little Red Cap. This is so surreal," Verena murmurs, slowing to a stop beside the girl. Then she holds up the souls. "Okay, in the interest of preventing a Freaky Friday scenario, which soul belongs to which?"

Eris is inside Ida's mirror. He squints at the two orbs. "Perhaps the bigger, brighter one belongs to the old woman. A longer, fuller life could yield a bigger soul."

"But children are naturally so soulful," Verena muses. "Maybe old souls shrink like raisins."

Recalling my few experiences with the old woman, I nod at the smaller glowing orb.

"That is Ida."