He grumbled again but didn’t pull away as we walked back to Whisperhold.
“So,” I said as casually as I could manage, “how long does sprite ash usually last? A full vial, I mean?”
I was pushing my luck asking another question, but I was burning through the ash quicker than I expected. With all the festivities and the possibility of rescuing Finn and Hunter soon—I had to be prepared. My vial was getting uncomfortably low.
Maxfield stopped to glare at me. “The vial I gave you, if properly used, should last you a year. Maybe longer if you’re not being wasteful. How much have you been using, child?”
I blinked as panic washed over me. “Me? Oh… only when I really need it. I have plenty left. I was only curious… you know, for the next time.”
He eyed me for a long time, as if measuring the truth of my words. My hands began to fidget under the scrutiny.
“Good,” he finally said, turning again toward the cabin. “Sprite ash contains potent magic. It’s nothing to be trifled with. But a smart girl like you would already know that.”
Irubbed the back of my neck, trying to ease the ache in my shoulders after placing the final pallet of food into the underground oven. We’d been preparing the camp for tonight’s festivities since dawn. The thick frost that blanketed the ground had finally thawed, but the season was shifting fast—snow would be here before we knew it.
My thoughts drifted to this morning, when Luca had made good on his promise to warm my bed, making it nearly impossible to get up and start the day.
The camp buzzed with excitement, and it was contagious. My hands were chapped from cleaning, nicked with more than a few cuts from peeling endless vegetables. Still, my heart was full and the anticipation was palpable.
The smell of food wafted in the air, turning my stomach. I’d been pushing myself too hard again. The cancer—or curse—or whatever the Tribulation was, always seemed to be lurking below the surface. I needed to decide whether it was worth using the precious little sprite ash I had left. It was clearly something I’d need to ration now… unless I found another source besides Maxfield. The last thing I wanted was for the brothers to start worrying.
I was the last one to finish up. The other females had already gone to prepare for the celebration. I’d been avoiding it—mostly because I had little to work with. I’d acquired a few hand-me-down dresses since we’d left the castle, but nothing fancy. The one warm dress I had was clean, but the hem sagged with ragged holes I hadn’t gotten around to stitching. It would have to do.
“Mic!” Fallon’s voice rang from the cabin doorway. “Come here! I need to show you something.”
Getting ready for tonight would have to wait a bit longer. Hopefully, my wit and charm would distract from my disheveled appearance.
Fallon, somehow, still managed to look every bit the royal she was, even in the middle of a rebellion. A sleek ebony dress hugged her corseted waist and flared at the floor, her short black hair slicked into a polished shine. She always added an edge to whatever fashions the others favored.
“You look amazing, as always,” I said as she grabbed my hand and tugged me into the cabin.
“Yes, of course. Now let me work some of my magic on you,” she said, pulling me into the king’s quarters—her permanent room since I’d refused it, preferring the bunkhouse with the princes. “I found some old dresses in Danya’s chest.” She gestured to a heap of satin fabrics piled across the bed.
“Who’s Danya?” I asked, tracing my fingers over the red flowers embroidered on one of the garments.
“The queen. My brothers’ mother.”
“Don’t you meanyourmother?”
“No. We don’t share a mother. Mine died a long time ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Fallon,” I said softly, squeezing her hand.
“Don’t be. She died when I was very young for the unfortunate crime of not producing a male heir. Not that Danya fared much better.”
“Seriously? I thought Artos was a good man. Everyone here talks like he was a great king.”
“He was a great king. Maybe because he put the kingdom above everything else—including his family. When my mother died, he moved on to the next. I don’t think he even shed a tear.”
“Did he marry again? After Danya?”
“Oh gods, no. He wasn’t interested in marriage. He only needed an heir. After that, females were only a means to an end. He’d sleep with anyone who struck his fancy or could advance his power. His favorite trick was bedding the wives of dignitaries who spoke out against him—or sending Lucius in his stead.”
“Wait—what?” I asked, her words creating more questions than answers. What she was implying had my blood boiling.
“Well… shit.” She muttered the last part under her breath. “Lucius hasn’t told you much about his past, has he?”
“Not particularly, no,” I admitted.
