Chapter 14 #2
My lips part to demand she sit on her own bed when she meets my gaze over the thick tome in her hands.
My feet stick to the floor.
My sister holds up the Fae book, a single red brow arched. “Care to explain what this is?”
I sigh and rub my face, then stare up at the ceiling, noting the water stain from the leak in the roof I’ve yet to fix.
“Not here.” I drop my gaze. “Want to go on a walk?”
Ferria, Gods bless her, swings her legs over the bed without pause. “Sure. I need to check on something in the forge anyway.”
Neither of us cares to mention the sexist curfew Steelvice enforced tonight. Even if someone finds us on the unoccupied path, everyone knows Ferria is the smithy. No patrol would deny her access to the forge, no matter the hour.
I hope.
Ferria hands me the book, and I slip it into my satchel. I light the lantern from my kitchen table and step outside.
The night air bites, crisp and laced with the earthy scent of dew. We crunch over gravel and then dirt, the silence between us companionable, if a little weighted.
I slap at a buzzing gnat near my ear. Ferria does the same, barely flicking her wrist. Of course hers vanishes. Mine just comes back louder, more determined.
“Sooo…” Ferria finally drawls out, scanning the darkness ahead of us. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Instinct tells me she’s not talking about the Fae book.
“No.”
She hums. “Fair enough.”
We reach the path that forks toward the smithy.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I say, but there’s no accusation in my voice. Just curiosity.
Ferria gives me a sidelong glance. “We’ve both been busy.”
That’s never stopped us from spending time together before…
I bite my tongue.
Something’s going on with Ferria. Call it sisterly intuition, but I know I’m right. I also know the surest way to never learn what’s going on with my twin is to try and demand information from her.
“How long have you had that book?” she asks with a tone that not so subtly points out that there are things I haven’t shared with her, either.
“A little over a day.” I roll my lip between my teeth then blurt, “Juniper gave it to me.”
Ferria huffs a laugh. “Of course. Who else would dare have such an item in their possession?”
I join in her amusement at our adoptive mother’s bold, defiant reputation.
“Is it a healer text, then?” Ferria asks.
“I think so? I haven’t been able to decipher anything from it yet. Nothing that a picture can’t tell me.”
“Why not ask the Fae for help?” She peers at me from the corner of her eye. “You seem friendly enough with them.”
I snort. “Friendly is not the word I would use.”
“Then why would they step in to protect you?”
I frown, forcing myself to ignore how my stomach flips. “Because they need me to hea—”
Flames lick my throat, and I slam my mouth shut.
Ferria glances at where I press my hand to my neck and winces. “Sorry.”
I drop my hand and sigh. “It’s not your fault.”
She dips her chin. “All I’m saying is the Fae need you for something. If that book can assist your efforts, then I’d ask for their help.”
“The Shadow King banned those texts.”
And the punishment for possessing one is as cruel as the one for possessing magic. Yet another reason I consider Juniper the bravest woman I’ve ever met.
“Right. The king,” Ferria says with meaning. “But something tells me those Fae might be willing to overlook their sovereign's rules.”
I flick my gaze to her. “Why would you say that?”
She shrugs. “They made a deal to ignore the rebellion rumors in our town, as long as you helped them. Seems to me like they’re more concerned with their own goals than those of their ruler hundreds of miles away.”
I never thought of it like that. But she’s right. Maybe I can ask them to help me translate the book.
“Do they know about your power?” Ferria’s question makes my head snap to the side so fast, a neck muscle tweaks in protest.
I rub the sore spot.
“No,” I whisper. “Are you crazy?”
“What?”
I gape at her like she’s grown two heads. “Fae don’t approve of mortals with magic, either.”
When the Shadow Wars started, the first thing Fae did was hunt humans with magic flowing in their veins, effectively destroying the one miniscule weapon we had in our arsenal against them.
She huffs and shakes her head. “Fine. You’ve got a point. How about we try to read it together? We can take turns reading out loud to see if anything sounds familiar.”
“What if we mispronounce something and…I don’t know…our magic makes the other’s nose turn into a pig snout?”
“Then I guess you’ll have to figure out how to use your healing magic to make it normal again.”
I laugh with her, and some of the strain that has been tugging at me loosens with our banter. Comfortable silence falls.
We reach the incline that leads to the forge. I take a fortifying breath. The climb is exhausting on a good day, but after the night I’ve had—with the eerie Fae soldiers and sexist human captain—this is going to be awful.
We’re halfway up the incline when Ferria says in a tired voice, “General Ironheart has commissioned more weapons for the army. Anton and I have been working around the clock.”
Dread curls in my chest. “Because of the Fae?”
She meets my eyes, and her silence is answer enough. But then her gaze flicks toward the dark forge up ahead. Moonlight outlines its edges, and something shifts in her posture.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I wait, but she doesn’t continue. “Ferria?”
She exhales slowly. “I don’t think the weapons are just for the Fae.”
A chill not from the night air settles on my skin. “What else could they be for?”
Her jaw tightens, but whatever answer she’s about to give vanishes with the sharp crack of a snapping branch.
We both freeze. Our eyes meet then shift to the forest’s edge.
Something moves.
Leaves rustle as a shadow detaches from the darkness a dozen feet down the slope.
Then I see it.
A klarv.
One of the most terrifying beasts from my childhood nightmares steps into the moonlight—hulking, sinewed, its long, needle-like claws gleaming like polished bone.
My breath catches.
It locks eyes with me, and a wide, too-intelligent smile pulls across its face.
And then—it charges.