Chapter 31 #2
Yet Auri said that Desmond has forbidden fae from glamouring humans, maybe because he understands what it’s like, being half-human himself.
The more time I spend with him, Auri, and Finnian, the more I question everything I thought I knew about fae.
I’ve seen Avedoran guards punish a pixie just for worshipping her goddess.
I’ve learned that fae are indentured for generations under the guise of mercy.
Humans learned nothing from fae cruelty except to dole it back in double force. Maybe once, there could’ve been peace between our kingdoms, but. . .
It takes courage to raise a blade, but even more to lower it.
“And what is your favorite food?” Min asks Auri, freeing me from my thoughts.
Auri snorts. “What is this? A first date?”
“Mine is salmon chowder,” Min says.
I laugh. “That seems fitting for a feline shifter, doesn’t it?”
We debate what exactly constitutes a meal befitting a feline shifter until the horses slow to a measured clop.
We’ve covered a lot of ground. The forest surrounds us on both sides, golden leaves strewn across the path.
At a creek, we stop so the horses can drink, and Finnian switches with Auri when we continue again.
Talking with the thieves, and even Auri, has started to feel normal. It’s a difficult truth to swallow that any one of them could be the traitor who told Gashil how to get through the wards. One of them made a despicable choice that led to Nikolai’s death.
Finnian stares out the window, but his gaze is unfocused, as if his thoughts are far away.
“I can’t believe Nikolai is gone,” he murmurs, so quietly I almost don’t hear it over the creak of the carriage.
“It’s hard to imagine the guild without him.
If I were better at fighting, I could’ve—” His hand squeezes into a fist as his words die off.
Min lays her hand over his. “Nikolai would not want you to blame yourself. You have your own strengths.”
His eyes widen as he looks at her hand. I don’t miss the ripple of tension through his shoulders, as though her touch has electrified him. When she pulls away, he sags against the carriage wall. “I may be a good thief, but I’m far from a good friend. Revenge is all I can offer him now.”
Anger and grief writhe like a snake in my gut. Nikolai was my friend, too. He was the first to show me kindness in the guild, even when the others judged him for it. Could Finnian be the traitor, even as upset as he is about Nikolai’s death?
“We’ll win the next fight,” I vow. Gashil will not walk away from it, no matter who the traitor is.
Finnian nods, but no one speaks for a while.
Eventually, Min asks him to recount one of his heists for us.
He cheers up almost immediately, telling us about the time he impersonated a brawler for a heist two years ago.
I don’t say much besides the occasional exclamation, but Min encourages him to tell a second story.
Then even Finnian runs out of steam, and we fall silent again.
I cross my arms as I stare out the window. Desmond insisted on riding Enbarr a while longer, but I’ll mutiny and force him to rest soon.
“Been an hour already,” Finnian says, breaking the silence.
He dangles the gold-inlaid pocket watch that he claimed he stole from some aristocrat in Horalden.
He’s made a show of checking it every five minutes to admire the diamonds encrusted on the outer case.
Min and I aren’t as impressed as he wants us to be.
I shift in my seat, but I’ll have leg cramps within hours. I sigh. “How long until we reach the pass?”
“At our current speed, we will arrive an hour before nightfall,” Min answers.
That gives us an hour of daylight to navigate a rarely traversed path.
Fantastic. “I still don’t understand why we aren’t using Mordrak’s pass.
It’s just a little farther south.” Mordrak is the largest goblin city on the border between Torok and Avedor.
I was excited to visit it until Desmond said he had other plans.
“Can’t.” Finnian sighs. “The Grunthar would scrutinize our identification.”
“The what?” I hate being so ignorant of the world outside Nettlerock.
“Express written permission from the Torok Senate is required to travel through the pass,” Min says.
“The application and approval period has been known to take weeks. The goblin city guards, the Grunthar, could discern any falsified paperwork. Avedor has also stationed members of their own legion at the pass, and they are on the lookout for traveling fae.”
Finnian snorts. “Damn Avedorans—no offense, Cyn. Fae can’t even breathe without them watching.”
I stretch my aching back, watching Finnian’s reaction carefully. “Why are Avedoran legionnaires monitoring fae in Torok?” It’s odd. Torok may have close relations with Avedor, but it’s been independent since Avedor withdrew two centuries ago to occupy the Hollowlands.
“Perhaps it has to do with the rumors that fae are smuggling ore to the Hollowlands,” Min answers. She blinks when Finnian blows air across his lips.
“Like that’s possible,” Finnian says. “Don’t the registrars boast they haven’t had a ledger discrepancy in decades?”
“That is the claim,” Min replies. ”Registrars are the goblins who oversee record-keeping in Torok.”
Finnian adds, ”And they record everything.”
Min nods. “It is rumored that each stripped excavation tunnel in Mount Mordrak is adjoined to a cavern that houses the archives. There are miles of records of births, deaths, immigration, imports, exports, tax collection, property deeds—”
“I get it,” I cut in. I’m starting to wish Finnian would launch into one of the hyperbolic retellings of his thieving escapades. Anything to stop Min from over-explaining.
“We should relax for a bit.” Finnian smiles, having noticed my exasperation. He smiles a second longer at Min. “And feel free to use my lap if you require a pillow.”
Min shrinks into her lynx form, avoiding Finnian’s lap, whether by coincidence or pointed behavior. She lazily blinks her golden eyes closed. Only a minute later, her breaths slow with sleep.
Finnian sighs. “Was worth a shot.”
I smirk at him. “I didn’t think she’d be your type.” He must have feelings for her. Otherwise, why give her the dragon armor? Why tell Nikolai that there was a woman here he didn’t deserve?
Yet Min never seems receptive to his flirting. Maybe she’s not interested in romance, or maybe she doesn’t understand it.
“Who said I have a type?” Finnian winks at me. “You have the most fun if you keep your options open. I’m not excluding you, just in case you were wondering.”
The horses abruptly stop, jostling us hard. “Too bad, because I’m excluding you,” I snipe, then lean out the window. “You okay up there?”
“As okay as we can be, being forced to listen to your babbling,” Auri says atop Aether. “I thought you were going to shut up and relax.”
Desmond dismounts. His gaze locks with mine. “Finnian, we’re switching.”
Finnian sticks his head out of the other window. “Already?”
“I spent the night shoveling graves. I could use some ‘relaxation’.” Desmond opens the carriage door and motions him out.
Finnian smirks as he obliges. ”I suppose Cyn can use your lap, then.”
“If she were tired, I’d give her the whole seat, as a true gentleman would.” Desmond raises a brow, daring Finnian to retort.
I pretend to be preoccupied with Min’s twitching form so neither of them sees my amused grin. Finnian shakes his head, heading off toward Enbarr.
Desmond climbs atop the roof, then returns with a book. “Are you tired?” he asks me. It’s voiced with concern that takes me aback.
“Not yet. I should really take my turn on the horses.”
“You were injured in the fight. You deserve rest,” he replies. Then he sits beside me as the carriage lurches into motion. He opens the book to a marked page, and silence settles again, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels.
The carriage bumps, and his shoulder brushes against mine. Sparks tingle along my skin. I look anywhere but at him. If only I had something to do. Every quickened heartbeat when we touch will kill me before the tomb can.
I peer at his book. “That’s the runic writing I saw in the barrow’s abandoned fae city.”
He nods without looking up. “The old language of the Hollowlands is lost to many. So are most languages before the common tongue. I know four of them, but I’m more proficient at reading than speaking.”