"For now," the rainbow-haired girl replies, making a vague gesture with her hand. "It will take her some time to recuperate."
"How long?"
"Years."
Owen's so startled he actually looks right at her. "Years? You destroyed her vessel?"
A faint, one-shouldered shrug. "Is there any better way?"
"No." But he looks more afraid than ever as he leads them out of our safe little cave.
Even Caine looks taken aback, his eyebrows lifted as he watches them leave. Bun shifts in my lap, chewing harder on her collar, oblivious to the atmosphere.
"What's a sanguimancer?" Jack-Eye asks, and I lean forward to listen. "Are they dangerous?"
"She wasn't particularly challenging—just annoying. They're blood witches, in the crudest sense of the world. Their own or others', it doesn't matter. They use it to feed themselves, bind others to their will, cast nasty little spells…"
Her voice trails off, and I glance at Caine, who's frowning. "Have you ever heard of sangwa.. Um, blood witches?" It's a term I've never heard before.
He shakes his head. "No."
Lyre pops her head back in, just before the rock wall closes. "No touching. I mean it, Your Royal Blockheadedness."
"I heard you the first time," Caine growls.
"And yet I still don't believe you'll listen." Lyre's slitted eyes narrow further. "I won't be happy if I come back to find Grace unconscious again."
"Doomed," Sara whispers, still dramatically covering her face.
Chapter thirty-three
Grace: Conflict Resolution
"Good night, Bun," I whisper, tucking the blanket around the toddler's tiny shoulders. Her eyelids droop, but she still fights sleep like it's her mortal enemy.
"Quack," she mumbles, her duck bill morphing back to human lips mid-yawn.
Sara rolls her eyes from her nest of blankets. "Just ignore her. She'll be asleep in thirty seconds."
The feral baby protests with a grumpy babble, but it's soft.
I smooth down a wayward curl on her forehead. "Sleep tight, baby."
True to Sara's prediction, soft snores rise from her little bed of blankets before I've even made it five steps away. The rest of the makeshift bedroom settles into comfortable silence—Ron's already asleep, Jer's fighting it, and Sara's watching me leave.
I linger in the main room, fluffing a pillow that doesn't need fluffing, zipping and unzipping my hoodie. It's strange how quickly these kids have wound themselves around my heart. It's only been a few hours, but my heart's all-in on their orphaned life.
When I glance up, I spot Caine sitting alone, one arm resting on his bent knee, his gaze fixed on nothing. The harsh angles of his face are shadowed in the dim light of the cave.
I ease down to the floor across from him. Not close enough to touch, but not so far that I have to raise my voice. My knee is only inches from his.
He doesn't acknowledge me, but the slight tick in his jaw gives him away. He knows I'm here.
I watch him for a moment, gathering courage. "Earlier... Lyre said something about you tearing this city apart. What does that mean?"
His jaw ticks again. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the soft breathing of semi-sleeping children.
"Don't—" I pause, searching for the right word, "—sugarcoat it for me."
