Quill of Thieves

Chapter 25

Astrid could still hear the faerie's screams.

The pauper Astrid had killed—the Elvish Elder!—had been working with a light Elementi. A fae male from the Court of Avylon, which, Astrid loathed to admit, was apparently part of the northern Belsynen Realm. A place she had never known to still exist. Or rather, to remain in tact enough to launch an attack against Halorium. Sure, there were maps of the seven realms sewn into elaborate tapestries hanging up around the fortress, but none that Astrid had ever been taught were still home to all manners of extinct, mythical creatures.

They were meant to have all died out during the Purge.

They were meant to be nothing more than myths.

And the fae male hadn't been some tiny winged thing from the children's stories, flitting around between honeysuckles and roses. He had been tall and large with patterns of vines tattooed down his spine and around his torso. Nearly human, though his eyes had been so pale, almost translucent. His skin had shimmered from the veins that carried his kin's illuminated blood. Smooth, dark skin that was no longer so polished but wrecked by jagged lines Astrid herself had given to him.

She hadn't learned his name. He had died far too quickly for such pleasantries. Like his soul had already been in the process of drifting away to the Eyelesene Glaciers even before Astrid had tugged on the diminishing threads of his spirit.

So, perhaps such creatures were not extinct, but it certainly appeared as if the Purge had sent them closer to that brink.

Astrid blinked at Serah who now stood before her. The ancient Scribal woman had mimed something to her, judging by the fluttering of her fingers, but Astrid was lost, staring at the same dark skin that was only a shade or two lighter than the fae warrior's.

But a thousand times more wrinkled.

When she blinked again, Astrid's eyes threatened to remain shut. She hadn't slept very well, if at all, and had even thought she would have at least been somewhat more productive if she had just stayed the night with Sebastian and his Husky Street Girl. Maybe then, the screams and her thoughts wouldn't have run her so ragged.

Serah's gentle grasp wrapped around her elbow, Astrid's copper cuff popping off with a metallic click. She glanced at it, watching as Serah snapped it back together again and tucked it into her tunic for safekeeping during the first task. It felt so different from her mother, who had all but torn the cuff from her daughter's arm last night in Treason's Tower and hissed, "Let them see what you can really do."

Her fear had allowed her to do just that.

Astrid felt the calm woman's stare upon her even before she raised her own head to meet it.

"You are so full of peace," Astrid heard herself say. She shook out her now freed arm. Her veins seemed to sizzle with a sudden rush of adrenaline. "How?"

The old woman tapped a finger against her right temple with a somber grin.

Astrid sighed. It was doubtful her brain would allow her a sense of tranquility any time soon. "The Fae, Elves—" The words whispered into the sparse tent. It was small, having only been erected at the base of one of Rainier's peaks for this morning to house the queen's saviours. The turquoise fabric rippled in the chilled wind, sending a wave like the Ember Sea across Serah's cheeks— "These creatures; they all still exist, don't they? They've always been here."

Serah made a soft grunt from the back of her throat. Apparently even half a tongue hadn't returned her speech. She took Astrid's wrist and flipped it over, inclining her head over Astrid's skin, her fingers moving. Spelling.