“I’ll be grateful for anything.”
After they arranged the kindling, Bitty stuffed some dry leaves into the sticks and rustled through a fabric satchel she wore hanging off her hip, and produced a flint and a striker. After a couple of strikes, the leaves ignited.
Ava watched, finding the whole thing oddly fascinating. Camping was never her thing. Now that she was surrounded by people who could wield magic and summon whatever they wanted with a simple gesture? To see a fae resorting to manually making a fire was…odd. And it gave her a moment to reflect.
Bitty was surviving.
Somehow.
But it was more than that.
In all this nonsense, and against all odds, she wasn’t just surviving, was she? She seemed…happy. Neurotic, sure. Jumpy,absolutely. Buthappyto a certain degree. She considered Ibin a friend. “Do you like it here?”
“Hm?” Bitty looked up from blowing on the embers. The kindling was really starting to get going. “Oh, well, I wish things weren’t so dangerous. I like it when things aren’t trying to eat me all the time.” She giggled. “So, maybe not? But in Tir n’Aill, people were mean to me. Looked down at me for being worthless. Meaningless. I was going to have a life begging for scraps, if I stayed there.”
Ouch.
“But here?” Bitty looked out of the archway of the alcove. “We’re all outcasts. Exiles. Broken in one way or another, cast out for one reason or another.” She shrugged. “Nobody’smeanhere. Dangerous, but notmean.”She frowned. “I don’t know if that makes any sense.”
“Yeah. It does.” Way more than Ava cared to admit. Maybe she should just…stay in the Web, like she was now. Find a place to set up a nice little home for herself, and learn to survive.
Keep her power out of everyone’s reach. Serrik’s. Valroy’s. Whatever Nos and Ibin were up to. It was an option she hadn’t really considered. Inaction as a form of action. But how long could that really last, before somebody forced her hand? Before it all fell apart?
“What do you think I should do, Bitty?” She reached over for a slightly larger stick now that the fire was going stronger. Snapping it into two smaller chunks, she placed them diagonally on top of the burning bits.
“You’re askingme?”The fae laughed. “That’s a silly thing to do. I have no idea. I think you have no good options.”
“How so?”
“Well, all the good options I see are temporary. All the permanent ones are bad.” She frowned. “And temporary goodoptions are how we got into this mess into the first place, isn’t it? Trusting luck to hold out forever.”
“Seems it.”
Bitty stood and brushed off her dress. Her wings buzzed behind her. “I’m going to go forage for fruit! Keep the fire going, I’ll be back soon.” Her smile fell like a brick. “Unless I die. In which case, I won’t.”
“Well, my advice is, don’t die.” Ava chuckled. “And if you do, I’ll avenge your death. I’ll go drop a train on whatever it is that killed you.”
Bitty actually looked flattered. “Does that make us friends?”
“Sure.” The fae were so strange. “It absolutely makes us friends.”
“Friends.”The word was a whisper of awe. With a beaming smile, Bitty dashed off.
No, Ava amended her thought. The fae weren’t just strange.
They werefucking bizarre.
Bitty had not died.And she had returned with her apron filled with fruit. There were no apples, which had made Ava laugh harder than it should have—and it had been impossible to explain to Bitty why.
But they had eaten half the fruit, tucked the rest away in Ava’s backpack, and settled down for the night in front of the burning fire.
Ava rather reluctantly fell asleep.
The first thing she became aware of was harpsichord music.
Serrik’s library materialized around her, golden candlelight casting long shadows across endless rows of books. And there he was, seated at the instrument, his long fingers dancing acrossthe keys with inhuman precision. His wild green hair cascaded down his back, the gold jewelry at his wrists and throat catching the light with each graceful movement.
Beautiful. Otherworldly. Deadly.
