Chapter 31
Last night, after Desmond dragged the bodies outside, he insisted that we leave the next day.
Auri and I both argued against it—the main reason is my “incompetence,” as Auri calls it.
It’s not that I can’t support the bridge to let us cross the tomb’s chasm, but I need more time to train to make sure I don’t screw it up.
And we all need time to recover from Gashil’s attack and Nikolai’s death.
Maeve brewed healing tonics to mend our wounds, but nothing will mend the pain of losing my friend.
Yet Desmond isn’t giving us time to grieve. In his eyes, we have the map of the Krelthar Mountains. We have the supplies we need. Last night marked the waxing half moon, meaning the full moon will rise in six days.
Six days until we meet Desmond’s deadline. Six days to travel through Torok, raid King Olin’s tomb, and return to Avedor. I suspect he’s also concerned about the traitor. The more time we spend at the guild, the more chances we give Gashil to return.
Auri left for Mythos at dawn to purchase a carriage that’ll fit all five of us.
Leaving for Mythos alone sounds like a perfect way to rendezvous with Gashil, but I don’t voice my mistrust to anyone.
Desmond trusts her, and the last thing I want to do is inadvertently cast suspicion on myself for accusing others without evidence.
As I carry a pack of provisions from the kitchen to the foyer, Rune’s office door opens. “I’m not interested in your opinions,” Desmond says as he exits. “How do they know where your hideout is?”
Rune leans against the doorway, his teal eyes flashing with a warning.
“No one in my guild would be so unwise as to betray our location, nor to escort intruders through the wards. Believe me, I’m as unsettled about this as you are.
I will investigate in your absence and block off the hidden escape tunnel.
Nikolai was a good man. I don’t want to lose another. ”
“Good,” Desmond replies. His hardened frown softens when he sees me. He nods at me, rubs his sullen eyes, and departs for his room.
I suppose he didn’t have time to pack last night like the rest of us. He was gone for hours, burying the fomorians’ bodies, and insisted on doing it alone. If Rune, Auri, and I had helped, he could’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep.
Rune will bring Nikolai’s body to his family as soon as the rest of us have left. My stomach churns at the thought of his wife and two girls burying him.
“Cyn, I’m glad to see that you’re alright,” Rune says to me. “In fact, I have something for you.” He disappears into his office, then returns with his hands fisted together.
I flick a piece of lint off my pants, then lift a brow at him. “And what if I don’t want it?”
“Would knowing Desmond doesn’t want you to have it change your mind?”
Mind games. They never stop, do they? Fae, human, it doesn’t matter. I sigh. “He’s gone now, so don’t keep beating around the bush. What happened between you and Desmond?”
Rune pauses as he appraises me. I don’t think he expected me to ask. “He’ll never let you see the true side of him, not unless his life is at stake.” Then he takes my hands and clasps them tight.
“Hey—” I tense as he pushes an object from his palms into mine. No, several objects. They’re small and round, almost identical in size. I hesitate, inspecting the piercing warning in Rune’s gaze. A warning about Desmond.
He takes a slow, leisurely step inside his office, then smiles.
It startles me that I expected it to be a conniving grin, but there’s nothing menacing or scheming about it.
It’s warm and familiar. Like that of a friend who’s offering advice.
“They call him ‘the Prince of Death’ for a reason,” Rune tells me. “Ask him why.”
And as he sits at his desk, I peek into my hands. It’s a necklace of strung dried berries, their colors varying from rose red to a warm orange.
Rowan berries. That’s the berry that prevents fae glamour if held on one’s person, the one I’ve been trying to recall for days. Rune has just given me a mental shield.
I can’t let myself forget that every present comes with strings.
“Good luck!” Maeve shouts. She waves, but it lacks her usual cheeriness. Nikolai’s death weighs heavily on everyone.
I wave back as I approach the carriage. Maeve insisted on following us to the path. I’ll miss her—and that realization strikes me with a more startling one.
I may never see Maeve again.
The plan was always that I’d take Olin’s treasure back to my family, and then I’d set off on my own for the adventurers’ guild. I miss Evie, and I’ll cherish every minute with her when I’m back. Yet I never expected that I’d miss the thieves. The thought unsettles me.
“Are you sure we have enough weapons, Dez?” Finnian asks with a teasing grin as he eyes my bow, quiver, and sword.
Desmond glances down from his perch atop the carriage roof, then resumes crossing lines off a list. “I wish we didn’t need any of them. Just imagine a world where words speak louder than violence.”
Auri huffs a laugh. “I can’t.” When she looks at me, I expect her to add a scornful line about humans, but instead she turns away to finish hitching Enbarr. “You know you’d never get all the fae to agree. Especially the unseelie.”
“Bit hard to get redcaps to put down their bludgeons, even against each other,” Finnian agrees.
Desmond’s face scrunches, his pen movements harsher. “How convenient for Avedor that the fae were too busy fighting amongst themselves to form a unified front during the war.”
I climb the back of the carriage to fit my luggage alongside the other packs. “You’d rather reason with your enemies than fight?” I ask him.
He startles, then clears his throat. He shifts, his body almost imperceptively turning toward mine. “It takes courage to raise a blade, but even more to lower it.” Then he hops down and pats Enbarr’s flank. “We’re ready. Let’s get going.”
“It is a long journey to Torok,” Min says as she climbs into the carriage.
Desmond mounts Enbarr. “Finnian, take the first shift on Aether.”
I sit beside Min. She’s dressed in her Aedrosian orange robe today and nods at me.
The quarters are more snug than I anticipated, with a door on either side and padded seats.
The two windows are covered by drapes instead of glass panes, and a small lantern dangles from the ceiling.
Auri sits across from us and pulls the drapes back, exposing a view of the forested hills and the talus slope overlooking it all to the south.
To the north lie the quilt-like squares of fields and farmland.
Leaving behind the stale cavern air of the hideout refreshes me more than I’d like to admit.
Autumn is truly here with a crisp, nippy breeze and golden sunlight.
The forest is alive with color, brushstrokes of deep green spruce, and maples with vibrant reds and oranges, their canopies like scattered jewels.
If I close my eyes, the whispers of the forest sound like home.
The carriage lurches, the horses accelerating at a pace that makes me throw my arms out to balance myself. I lean out the window, watching the blurred forest as the wind whips my fly-away hairs and stings my eyes. Enbarr and Aether’s hooves thunder, kicking up puffs of dirt.
“Fascinating,” Min says. “It is obvious that Aether is no ordinary horse, but Enbarr is not either?”
“Enbarr was blessed by Danu. She’s immortal unless slain, and she’s the fastest horse in the Hollowlands,” Auri answers. “Even though Aether is half-unicorn, he can’t maintain this speed for long. Maybe an hour.”
I try to sit back, but the jostling makes it uncomfortable. I brace my hands on my knees instead. “And how did Desmond acquire her? She must’ve been expensive.”
Auri scoffs. “Enbarr chose him. It’s an insult to suggest she could be bought.”
“Why him?” Min asks, curiosity rapt in her widened black eyes.
“Why not him?” Auri counters. “He’s the High Court’s prince. Brave, determined, loyal. The only fae who may have been more worthy is his sister.”
I already knew she thought highly of Desmond, but the reminder of their closeness stings.
“And what of you?” Min asks. “What is your life like back in the Hollowlands? We have a long journey ahead and may as well further acquaint ourselves.”
“Me?” Auri looks surprised. “I serve Princess Deitra of the High Court, first in line to the High Throne.” A proud smile lights her face. “She’s the commanding general of the court’s troops and tougher than an orc.”
I remember Desmond’s furtive conversation in the woods about his sister. He had asked how Deitra was faring without her favorite captain. Could that captain be Auri? “And the Hollowlands is ruled by a queen, right?” I ask. “Just like Avedor.”
“Just like Avedor,” Auri mocks. “Our laws are so different than yours that you wouldn’t last a day.
They’re capricious, affected by the tides or even the phase of the moon.
But yes, the High Court is currently ruled by Queen Tetriona of the Vales.
The unseelie have their own court that’s supposed to defer to the High Court.
” She wrinkles her nose. “They rarely do.”
I restrain myself from arguing that I could perfectly well survive the Hollowlands.
Honestly, I’m not sure that I would, even with the rowan berry necklace.
The Hollowlands is one of the few places I haven’t dreamt of exploring, not even after witnessing the bioluminescent beauty of that cave in the barrow.
It would be a fate worse than death to be glamoured into mindless servitude or captured and wed to an unseelie fae who’s fascinated with mortals.