Page 16
Something glinted in the dark, fluttering against the wall in her mind, which only made it worse.
Fern ducked her head, pretending to be hard at work on what was arguably the worst braid yet. If anyone asked, it was definitely because Solyrian was tumbling towards the sea, and the fading light meant she couldn’t see shit.
She was glad everything worked out the way it did. Truly. Her easy rapport with the Demon warrior helped to stave off the emptiness, if nothing else.
Besides, since discovering the paired weapons and starting their latest search, the others were unbearable to be around. Failing to find anything of their missing kin was taking its toll. As a result, their frustration and uncertainty, their exhaustion, morphed into her own when they were nearby. Especially Magnus, for whatever reason.
At least Pet tried to keep things optimistic.
Hedda padded across the room and plopped onto the end of the bed. “You don’t know her, but our cousin Nyri would’ve been right beside you,” she said, her smooth alto subdued as she fiddled with a corner on the quilt. “Probably telling you what a shite job you’re doing and shooing you away so she could fix your mess.”
Fern huffed, nodding. When lost in the barren wasteland of the Veil—or whatever musty place came before it—the voices of these creatures had been her only company. She knew their names, their spirits, on a visceral level, without ever laying eyes on them. Nyri was no different.
“She’ll have her chance, I’m sure of it.”
Not quite a lie but not confirmed by any inner guide either. Just something to keep Hedda from falling back into the melancholy of the first few days. She was finally smiling again, and Fern wanted to keep it that way.
Whatever Hedda said next was lost on her.
A static charge zipped between Fern’s shoulder blades, her wings, and settled as an ache in her chest. She narrowed her gaze on Lunara, then Brand. They looked like absolute slug pus—too pale, a bit clammy—but their breathing was even.
“What is it?” Hedda whispered, leaning in.
“I would have sworn—”
There it was again.
“Lunara’s finger just twitched.”
She and Hedda locked eyes, matching grins spreading across their faces.
“We’d better get her ready, then,” Hedda said.
Oh, yes. A shift was coming. Soon. Fuck, any minute now.
Fern could feel it.
It took two days, but Lyriat—the wily bastard—was right.
Magnus noticed Aldiat and Frida’s weapons laid just so that first night, right on top of what looked like a hand-placed pile of perfectly sized debris. The hair pins in front of him were no different. And they sure as shite hadn’t been there when he did his initial search. He would’ve seen them.
Black as a moonless midnight, they had an added bend on one side and more length than most would need. He closed his eyes and pictured nimble fingers weaving trilliatum into Lunara’s hair before the Montrealm’s Occurrence, reaching up to steal an extra pin or two from her own inky mass of hair when she ran out.
Aye. They were Nyriadne’s.
I’d bet our life on it, Pet.
—Agreed. I can smell her all over them—
Pet loped them through the wreckage and over to the central post where they’d set up a rest station with food and water. The change back into himself was slower than he had the patience for, but searching during the days and keeping watch overnight was taking its toll on his energy.
Back on two feet, Magnus snatched his robe from the back of a chair and wrenched it on as he shouted, “Faldir!”
Brand’s Third Commander popped up from behind what was left of a crumbling wall. “Oy, why the tone? I’m right— What did you find?”
There must’ve been something in Mag’s face that told him this wasn’t the usual shite. But even with Nyri’s bubbly scent still tickling his nose, Magnus was afraid to get his hopes up. To move too quickly or shout the news too loudly, lest he be wrong by some cruel twist of fate.
“Come see for yourself and tell me I’m not going mad,” he said, feigning as much nonchalance as he could stomach.
