She’s right to worry. Having grown up behind the manor walls, I know next to nothing about how to survive in the outside world. Truth is, I’m equal parts terrified and excited to get away. But anything would be better than staying.
Tira turns away before I can answer, trying and failing to hide the way her face is falling. I don’t tell her it will be okay, that we’ll see each other again—I have no idea if either of those things is true. I just feel a wave of gratitude for the friendship that has kept me going all these years. The potion might have been sustaining my body, but Tira helped keep my soul alive.
She’s still looking away from me, so I pull her into a hug from behind, squeezing her waist, and she gives my arm a pat. We don’t need to say we love each other. We both already know that, as much as we know I won’t survive at Gallawing much longer. Especially now.
Without another word, I pick up my bundle and head downstairs.
My foot is on the bottom step when I hear Kit’s voice across the pub, raised and stern.
“And I’m tellingyou,sir, you’re just going to have to buy another.”
“Unacceptable.”
The voice sends an instant chill up my spine. It’s not just the anger in it, or the odd accent. Something else puts my teeth on edge. I whip my head around to see one of the travelers from the group I spotted before squaring off with Kit. A flagon lies on the ground between them, beer seeping into the wooden floorboards.
“I won’t pay for your clumsiness, whelp.”
He’s red-headed and maybe in his forties, a bright russet beard doing nothing to soften his glower. I keep walking, shouldering the pack I’ve folded Tira’s clothes into. I doubt the spillage was truly Kit’s fault, but I’ve known him to handle belligerent customers like this many times before, so I’m not worried. Throwing a drunk out on their ear is hardly a challenge for Kit’s sturdy build.
But…next to the red-headed man even he looks vulnerable, especially when two of the man’s friends—a blond man and a woman—stand to face Kit too. I pause, trying to work out what’s nagging at me about the scene.
There’s something dangerous about this group. I’ve read about the enchanted creatures that live in the dryad forest, the Miravow, and I’m reminded of them now: huge bears and panthers and other enormous predators with sharp claws and teeth. Each of these seven people look primed to pounce at a moment’s notice, even as half of them sit at rest, swigging their drinks.
The woman who’s standing puts a hand on the bearded man’s arm.
“Calm yourself, Eryx,” she says serenely. She looks young in the face despite her silver hair. “You’ll make the poor boy soil himself.”
Her voice sets off alarm bells in my head. There’s a strange echo to it, not just some foreign lilt, but an unnatural resonance, like air dancing in a shell.
Kit draws himself up at the woman’s insult.
“Listen here, ma’am?—”
The four of them are standing so close together, their shadows crowd each other on the inn floor, surrounding the dark patch of spilled beer. Kit is nearly the same height as the rest of them, and yet by some weird trick of the lamp light, the shadows of the three travelers look much longer than his.
Except…isit the light? Or some other trick?
Kit is readying himself to evict the unruly customers. But my instincts scream that he’s about to make a grave mistake.
I take a step closer, getting a better view of the other four travelers still seated. Two are in conversation, ignoring the unfolding drama. Another pair sit in silence. The dark-haired man looks so relaxed he has his head down, resting on his chest, almost like he’s sleeping. Yet something tells me he’s aware of everything going on around him.
There’s definitely something off about all of them. My eyes dart to the strange shadows again, my heartbeat picking up as I consider that magic could be at play here.
What was it Etusca said about glamour spells?
You have to look for the cracks—the slip-ups in the illusion.
Like an echo in a crowded room, or a flicker in a reflection.
My eyes dart to the reflection of the scene in shiny metal tankards on the travelers’ table. And there, quick as a blink, I see it: the figures standing beside Kit waver, their reflections changing shape for just a second.
It’s very rare for a human to be able to disguise themselves like that. Terrial magic doesn’t lend itself to it. But fae…their sensic magic can twist your mind into knots, can make you see things that aren’t there. Etusca worked in Filusia for a while, and she told me about their gift for deceiving the eye.
She didn’t have to teach me about the fae’s gift for brutality. The history books made that all too clear.
I’m beside my friend in an instant.
“Kit, I need to talk to you,” I mutter in his ear. He nearly elbows me as he rolls up his sleeves, throwing me a disgruntled look.
