I don't add that we're going to the Court of Ichor, his home. I trust my sister, my walls have ears, and we've learned a thing or two about treachery of late.
These facts were accurate, though they weren’t the reason why I'd accepted the boy and not her. Jules is disposable. Others would say otherwise; he's the son of the king of the Court of Ichor, and could succeed him. But he isn't my only sister.
"You're being sexist," she accuses me, gritting her teeth.
I have to consider her words, for a fleeting second. Then I decide she's wrong. If she'd been a little brother of mine, my answer would have been the same.
"Ive's coming, too," I point out. “So are Queen Ina, and the high queen." Nebula's eyes widen. I hadn't specified that in front of everyone. "And if another female with relevant skills volunteers, I won't turn her down. I'm not sexist. You're not qualified."
Being my sister will always disqualify her for any position that puts her in danger.
Neb crosses her arms on her chest. "What qualifications could Ive possibly have, except for an enormous—"
I lift a brow. "Who's sexist now?"
There was only one thing of Ive's that could be seen as enormous, and it wasn't her brain. The buxom half-aven had human roots that allowed for curves unusual for the folk. I'd noticed, though I wasn't interested. I'd also noticed that Ive wanted me to notice.I could have saved the girl some time and told her she wasn't going to go anywhere with me.No one was, except for Vlari. Not after today.
I’ve enjoyed many women of every rank, every shape and color. It's never been like that. With Vlari, sex wasn't an indulgence as much as a need. A raw need to possess and mark. She's an addiction.
"Ive is a healer," I remind Nebula. "We need her. What we need of you is to keep making those charms Ciera Bane had you sew. You know they saved lives during the attack, right?"
I'd seen it in action. Who knew whether Lucan would have survived without it? And without him, we wouldn't have been able to shield Whitecroft again. I tell her that. I can tell she doesn't believe a word of it; she knows I have an agenda.
"So, while you leave for enemy territory with two queens, to do god knows what, I'm to sew?" she seethes.
"Nebula, I don't have time for this. I was given orders: find a healer and a tracker. You're neither a healer nor a tracker. Stay and be useful, or stay and sulk. Either way, you're staying in Whitecroft."
She lifts her chin. "You're doing this on purpose. Outshining me. You always have."
The accusation stings, but I shrug it off. My pack is ready. "I'll be back before you know it. Save the insults for my return."
To my surprise, she lets me kiss her forehead despite her anger.
I walk to the rendezvous point at the edge of the marches. Vlari, Meda the pixie, Queen Ina, and Lucan are waiting, all dressed like me, in dark formfitting clothes easy to move in, and with a light pack at their sides. Vlari's wyrfox is standing at her feet, like a loyal hound.
We wait for the cover of night, as there are always scouts watching Whitecroft. We move more silently than human ears can detect, but they often have dogs trained to alert them of our movement.
The marches are northwest—a little detour, but they bleed into a wood that'll allow for some cover.
We walk in silence, as fast as we can. Vlari brings up the rear, her small legs forcing her to take two steps for every one of mine. I itch to carry her, but I strongly suspect she'd take offense. Instead, I slow down, and take her hand.
"You never told me how you got a familiar."
The wyr doesn't seem like a pet: it's as wild as they come, wary of us, reluctant to be here.
She shrugs. "I stopped him from becoming dullahan meat a while back. I'm not quite sure what to do with him, to be honest. He doesn't seem to enjoy touch, and when I try to talk to him, he ignores me. But he turns up every now and then anyway."
I lift my head to the top of the trees, where the animal is perched, following us and blending with the shadows.
I don't think I've ever heard of anyone getting a familiar while being so young. They attach themselves to kings and queens—a blessing of the wilderness.
"So long as it doesn't give away our position," I say.
To be fair to it, the wyr is even more silent than the rest of us.
We walk through the night, taking sinuous paths as far away from keeps, castles, and villages as we dare, while remaining on our way to the Court of Ichor.
We reach the path leading to Hardrock and I still, getting to a crouch, surveying the ground with a frown.
