CHAPTER 72
Cully sat in the shade of a tree near the reflection ponds, whittling his arrows. Curious fish broke the surface occasionally, wondering what he was doing. It was a peaceful place for such serious work. He had finished a full quiver already, but he reached for another thin ash branch.
Curled shavings fell in his lap as his knife slid along the wood, a soothing sound, the scrape, scrape, scrape of his blade against the dried branch.
It was a rhythm he liked, and he let every ounce of his hatred flow into the small limb, making it even more powerful.
He would fletch them tonight, but only half of them would be tipped.
Without a forged tip, an arrow wouldn’t fly as far or sink as deep, but it could slip past the cleverest of wards.
And it would kill just like the others. Every single time.
Elven archers were a tight-knit group and took pride in the power of their arrows.
Cully and his team had been honing and stockpiling them for weeks, and they were going to need them all.
Fomoria would be paying for the terror they had inflicted on Elphame, for the many they had taken—like Glennis.
He held his arrow up against the blue sky, examining its tip, so sharp it would barely be felt piercing a heart.
Perfect. He added it to the quiver and started another.
Fresh-faced buckling, he thought, and smiled.
His cheeks had burned the first time Glennis called him that, but now he missed it.
There was no one to call him that anymore.
Glennis had taken Cully under her wing from the time he was a young knight at the garrison.
She would chide him, telling him to stand straighter, be smarter, work harder, but she did it in a way that made him want to do better, be better.
She said it in a way that made him believe he could be the knight she expected him to be.
And then she recommended him to Tyghan to join their squad as a junior officer.
He paused from his whittling as a young woman approached on the pathway that bordered the pond.
She looked lost, out of place. As she neared, she spotted him and walked across the lawn to where he sat.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, “I apologize for interrupting your peace, but I think I may have taken a wrong turn. Can you point me in the direction of the Ceridwen Library?” She explained she was a guest of the ambassador of Silverwing, who was meeting with King Trénallis, and the king had directed her to the library to pass the time because of her love of books.
She was excited to peruse the volumes, but had strayed from his precise directions when she became curious about a flock of wild things flying overhead, trying to take notes about them in the journal she carried.
A mortal, Cully thought, judging by her demeanor. They always tended to be guileless when they first came. “Where are you from?” he asked.
“A place called Indiana,” she said. “You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s in the mortal world.”
“Oh,” Cully said, like he was surprised. “How did you come to be here?”
“It’s an interesting story, actually. I was at a train station on my way to see President Roosevelt’s inauguration when I saw a man walk straight into a brick wall.
He disappeared. I stood there shocked, staring at the wall, and then he walked right back through it again.
Of course, I accosted him with my burning questions.
The man turned out to be Ambassador Thornbush.
He was very kind and gave me a gold coin, a timemark he called it, and said he would be happy to show me where he was from.
Since I had my bag all packed, I went. That was two weeks ago.
I’ve been taking notes in my journal ever since. ”
“You’re the adventurous sort?”
She smiled and nodded, her blond upswept curls bouncing. “I suppose I am.”
Cully hoped the ambassador wasn’t showing her too much. She seemed like a nice young woman. “I hope you have a pleasant stay. You’re close to the library now. Just turn at that corner.” He pointed the way to her. “Enjoy your book browsing, Miss—?”
“Wiggins,” she replied. “My friends call me Ana. I’m only here for a short time and trying to gather as much information as I can about this world. Your kingdom is so different from Silverwing.”
“That it is,” Cully agreed. “But our differences keep it interesting. Most of the time. You know about the ceremony, right?”
“Oh yes.” She hugged her journal to her chest. “If at all possible, I plan to be gone before then.”
“Good,” Cully said. “It won’t be safe here for your kind.”
She thanked him for his help and left, and he returned to his whittling.
Mortal or fae, it wouldn’t be safe for anyone.