Chapter 4
“Careful!” The voice is Akilah’s, this time. She yelps to Silvius as he descends from the sky and sets us onto an old dirt road bathed in moonlight.
Farmland meets mountains in the distance. All is quiet, except for the whisper of grass bowing toward us in a breeze. Akilah lurches away, shaken, happy to be on solid ground, and Silvius chuckles with a grin that makes my breath catch.
“I’ll take you to the estate owner here,” he says, gesturing toward the silhouette of a grand manor in the near distance. “You’ll be safe with her.”
The dome of a luminarium close by has me hesitating. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.” He touches his belt, where the tithiscar is fastened safe. “I’ll return this, and they’ll calm their hunt.”
He moves toward the manor, gaze flashing over me as Akilah shuffles a few feet behind, scanning for potential threats.
I flatten my hair. “Is it a big mess after that?”
Silvius laughs. “I’ve been staring. My apologies . . . I’m indebted to you, ah . . .?”
“Amuletos. Caelus.”
“Amuletos.” At the manor gates, he pauses; I bump into his arm and quickly pull back, but the air between us feels sharper. “Stay here,” he murmurs. “I’ll speak with her first.”
Akilah prods me between the shoulders when he’s gone. “Will he be your next Maskios?”
“What does that mean?” I whisper, my pulse ticking wildly at the mere mention.
She laughs, and I elbow her into silence when Silvius returns with a tall woman whose insightful eyes seem to scan me closely.
“They just need to lie low a while,” Silvius says as he makes introductions.
“You’ve never brought me strays before,” she murmurs.
“Who could I have ever trusted, Frederica?”
She stares at me sombrely. “Silvius tells me you saved his life.”
“It’s nothing,” I say hurriedly.
Silvius clasps my arm and meets my eye. “It’s something to me.”
“Anyone who brings light to my . . . friend’s eyes is welcome here.”
When everything is settled, Silvius bids his farewell.
I step forward, away from the others, keeping my voice low between him and me. “Why don’t you lie low with us?”
His gaze lingers on mine and there’s a shift in the air again.
He grimaces. “My mess is too big to hide, even here.” He begins to summon the wind again and lifts a few feet into the air, hovering there, looking down on me. “I don’t want you involved.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
I watch the sky for a long time. His conjured winds fade, but a shiver lingers. My next Maskios. Maybe this is what Akilah meant.
Another someone who’ll disappear.
For weeks we lie low on Frederica’s farm, quiet and cautious.
Every shadow might hide a luminist. We bury ourselves in work, and the animals on Frederica’s estate give us plenty of it.
Something has been attacking her sheep, something with sharp teeth and strong jaws.
Something merciless, that takes flesh and leaves the animal alive to suffer. She’s already posted a generous bounty.
I look over the lunch table at Akilah shaking her head at me. It’s a resigned-looking headshake, like she knows I’ve already made up my mind. I flash her a grin.
“Unbelievable,” she says, sagging into her seat.
I turn to Frederica, who is looking at me from the head of the table with a glimmer in her eye. “I won’t force you, of course. But I’d be grateful.”
But my stomach is a twisting knot as I mend the wounds on her sheep. The farm is so exposed; the glow of my medius spells can surely be seen from the luminarium in the distance. I hurry, and hope no one there is looking outside.
Prickly weeds sting my knees when I bend over the bite on yet another sheep’s leg. Akilah gently strokes its fleece, ready to hold it down if the sedation spell wears off.
Magic ribbons swirl in my cradling hand.
Akilah scans the meadow, her gaze always half on the luminarium. She shivers and shuffles closer to me. “Cael . . .”
“Even animals shouldn’t have to suffer.” My grandfather taught me, in secret, to heal animals first; even after I’d mastered those spells we still would save any hurt creature we came across.
“But can they really be worth the cost of getting caught?”
“Let’s not get caught.”
Her chest stills on a breath and she slowly lets it out.
The sunset shadows stretch long before us when we finally make our way back toward the manor. The scent of a feast drifts on a breeze, and it draws a rumble from my stomach.
As we near the ivy-covered stone walls, the soft glow of lamplight spills into the courtyard, and muffled voices rise in heated argument. One voice I recognise. Frederica’s. Another, heavier, slices through the evening air. Concerned, I follow the sound toward the back of the main house.
“Why? Why is he like this? How can I be rid of him?”
The smash of crockery.
“Be calm. This won’t help any—”
The small yard around which the kitchens range is strangely empty; it should be at its busiest at this hour.
A quick glance reveals the reason. Behind the closed latticework doors, the small army of kitchen staff are busily working at the long tables, backs carefully turned.
The hot water well that fills our baths and helps keep our linens so sweet stands in the centre, and beside that I see Frederica.
Her face is pinched with distress, the man standing before her seething, his fingers white around the ornate head of a cane as if he relies on it for balance.
His fine robe sways, dark locks and braids spilling over his strong shoulders.
He readjusts his hold on the cane, taking weight off his right leg; a vambrace guards his forearm.
He’s clearly capable of combat, and he’s much taller than Frederica. That intimidating forward step seems malicious.
He grits out angrily, “I won’t let them suffer—”
I launch myself onto his back, arms wrapping his shoulders, legs locking at his hips. I’m expecting—with the combination of surprise, my force, and his injury—he’ll stagger away from Frederica.
Instead, he stands solid, absorbing my weight while Frederica’s eyes widen. In a rush of colour, the world spins and I’m almost flung off. I double my grip with a gasp.
“What in the—” His voice is low, incredulous, and not strained in the slightest. His hands lock tightly around my thighs. I’m the one held captive now.
His voice drops with unsettling calm. “Who dares?”
Dark, unyielding eyes turn toward me. For a moment something tight and demanding flashes in their depths. But there’s also a moment his body tenses under mine; he readjusts his cane, holding his chin up proudly.
Even reliant on a cane and with my weight on his back, he seems full of vigour and pride. There’s a cold, ethereal beauty to him that is vaguely . . . familiar? I taste a hint of wintergreen under dust and steel. “This won’t do your face any favours,” I say.
“What about my face?”
I lean in to his ear and whisper, “Good looks don’t last. No woman fawns over mean lines.” I pinch a stalk of calming herbs from my belt smooshed between us and hold it over his shoulder. “Soulbloom?”
Laughter tears up the air—genuine, until he meets my eye with a mocking curl at one corner of his lips.
Frederica quickly collects herself. “Caelus! This—” She glances at the man, who turns his gaze sharply to her. At a shared look between them, she coughs. “—a friend. Quintus. Quin. He’s . . . just received some distressing news.”
“You’re not in distress?” I ask her.
As she shakes her head, the man eyes me, like he’s making a study of me.
His grip tightens on my thighs, his eyes flicking up to meet mine with a glint of dark amusement in their depths. “Careful with the cheek, par-linea. You may earn yourself a response you can’t handle.”
I grin and tap the tips of the soulbloom against the man’s mouth.
His eyebrow quirks, and he rips a bite.
A low rumble quivers through the ground under us. Sheep bleat nervously from the fields, their panicked cries rising with the tremors. Dust shakes loose from the manor walls, diffusing into the courtyard. There’s a tang of uneasy stillness in the air.
Earthshakes are common enough, but they never feel ordinary. There’s always this nerve-wracking moment, wondering if the shaking will stop or keep growing.
Quin grimaces, tensing further. “Hold on.”
The ground trembles violently beneath us, followed by a sharp crack.
I tighten my arms around Quin, expecting him to topple.
But he doesn’t. While Akilah and Frederica are making themselves as small as possible, arms shielding heads, Quin seeps power.
Swirling wind wraps around him, and he casts a veil of golden light over all of us.
The earth shifts again and I yank his hair to steer him out of the path of a falling post, except it’s unnecessary. The post bounces off the surrounding shimmer, not even buckling it. Somewhere nearby I can hear a howling, tight like it had barely managed to escape.
I glance at Akilah and Frederica, both safe in Quin’s shield, and I let out a relieved breath.
When the tremors subside and only dust swirls in the air, Quin’s golden shield vanishes. For a moment, his shoulders sag, something I might have missed if I hadn’t become the shadow on his back. “Are you alright?” I ask, fingers still clutching a handful of his hair.
His head turns slightly, enough for me to catch the stubborn line of his jaw. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
I laugh thinly and set his hair nicely in place, but there’s a lingering strain in his eyes. I don’t press. It’s clear he won’t admit to anything.
Frederica and Akilah rise cautiously, and we all freeze at the sound of a low, mournful whine. I slide off Quin’s back and follow the sound to a collapsed section of wall. Teeth snap out from beneath the rubble, followed by a foam-flecked snarl.
“It’s the sheep-killer,” I breathe, stepping back as the mangy dog scrabbles free.
“Suppress it,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite a lurch of fear up my throat.