Chapter 60 #2
Without a word, she offered me a piece of split bone, the marrow nestled inside. I shook my head. She merely shrugged, pressed it to her lips, and sucked hard. It slid free with a thick, wet pull.
I couldn't stop the groan that escaped me at the sight. Saskia, meanwhile, chewed thoughtfully before swallowing and setting the empty bone back into the basket.
“Faerie is quite delicious, you know. You shouldn't make such a face.”
“I'm sorry.” I wasn't.
“It's an affront to life to waste a death.” She gestured toward the Brinnekin's dismantled carcass. “Nothing of this creature will go unused.”
She spoke as though that ought to comfort me. It didn't.
All I could see was the Brinnekin whose kindness had saved us from the Tidelands, and the terrible fate that had become her reward.
“Everyone knows not to enter the Barrows. Not even the Fae dare set foot in our lands.”
Her words stirred a memory.
I have a place, Hamish had said before disappearing with Aedric into the tunnel beneath Noctharis. Somewhere not even the Fae dare go.
My gaze swept the settlement, suddenly searching. Half-expecting to find Hamish's broad, lumbering frame with an axe slung over one shoulder, or Aedric's vacant body propped beside one of the cooking fires.
Neither of them were here.
“We took this place back from the Fae centuries ago,” Saskia continued, proudly thumping a fist against her narrow chest. “I think we might be the only humans they're afraid of.” A devilish grin spread across her face. “The Bone Women.”
“Is that what you're called?”
She nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, then reached to the pouch at her belt.
Curling her hand toward me, she wiggled her little finger.
The nail had been left absurdly long, curving slightly at the tip.
She dipped it into the pouch, scooping up a measure of white powder before lifting it to one nostril. She inhaled. The powder vanished.
When Saskia looked at me again, her gray eyes were sharp, her pupils narrowed to pinpricks. She absently wiped beneath her nose, smearing the dusting that still clung to her skin.
“Fae bone,” she said with a crooked smirk. “Among our people, it's called taking the Dust.”
“What does it do?”
“Extends our lives, for one.” She laced her fingers behind her head, watching the Bone Women still gathered around the slowly disappearing Brinnekin carcass. “Sharpens our senses. Strengthens us. Without it, we wouldn’t be able to protect the Barrows.”
I glanced around the village again.
“Where are the men?”
She grinned. “No men.”
“Why not?”
“They can’t take the Dust. It renders them impotent.” She lifted the same little finger she'd used moments earlier and gave it an innocent little waggle. “And you know how protective men are of their penises.”
I coughed, heat rushing to my face.
Saskia shrugged. "Give a man the choice between eternal life and his cock, and he'll choose his cock every time."
I huffed a laugh.
She kicked her legs out in front of her.
“This is our village, but we shelter as many humans as we can in these lands. Those who escape to the Barrows are welcome, but we rarely venture beyond our borders. They make their own homes. Their own settlements. Usually beneath the old mounds, where it’s safest.”
Movement at the hut drew both our eyes. The Bone Mother emerged, wisps of white hair escaping the knot atop her head. She wiped her bloody hands on a cloth, met our gaze across the clearing, and dipped her chin.
Saskia looked at me sidelong, her eyes dropping to the hand I'd absently pressed over my heart. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she said nothing of it as the Bone Mother appeared before us.
She was slight and wiry, wrinkles fanning from the corners of her eyes and across her brow. She possessed the confidence and stillness of an old wolf, one that didn't need to bare its teeth to hold its place.
“He'll recover,” she said matter-of-factly. “His magic has already begun knitting the wound closed.”
Relief loosened something inside my chest. “Thank you.”
She inclined her head before lowering herself onto the log beside me, bracing an elbow against one knee. Saskia remained on my other side.
She gave me a measured once-over. “It’s not normal for an Eidra to look so… human.”
“My father was human,” I admitted, resisting the urge to touch the rounded points of my ears. “And I lived in the mortal lands before the fall of the Veil.”
She nodded, as if she suspected as much. “Is that where you and the Prince intend to go from here? Back into the mortal lands?”
Rìan had trusted Saskia enough to bring us here. That had to mean something.
“Yes,” I said. “We have… unfinished business there.”
“We crossed over when the Veil fell. To see what the mortal lands had become. We couldn’t go far. The Bone-Wrought have taken it over.” She tilted her head. “You knew that?”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat and nodded.
“It’s a dangerous place to venture. We can only hope the scales rebalance soon. Perhaps then there will be peace again.”
The words of The Book of Old Tales rose unbidden: He came not as conqueror, but as corrector. The Plague swept forth before him, and those it claimed rose again as the Returned, bound only to his will and driven to rebalance the scales. For no power was ever meant to grow unchecked.
“You’re not afraid that the Firstborn are back?”
“On the contrary,” She reached across and took my hand. Rìan's blood still stained the creases beneath her nails. “It was the best thing that could have happened to this world.”
I stared at her.