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Still, the ashy darkness had inched up to the center of his stomach.
We shared a tight look, but said nothing, simply dressed alongside the others and prepared for a trek.
Cy stroked Hakon’s breast feathers. “The serpents are camped half a day’s walk, near the shore in the wood. They’ll be expecting us. Arjax sent word to be wary of one in their number, they’ve had some . . . outbursts.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Gwyn said in a huff.
“Don’t know, my dearest. Arjax, from our past interactions, is a gentle sort of soul. Doubtful he wants to speak harshly about anyone he might respect, so he was rather vague. I suppose we’ll find out soon.”
Half a day turned into a trek into fading afternoon. We’d taken a path through green pond marshes and ended up needing to pry each other free of the sludge with long, overhanging branches.
Our second route was rockier and steeper, slowing our step to avoid slipping and plunging jagged stones through our chests. When the paths cleared and the shrubs grew more thorns, Cy informed us we were nearly there.
The air on this side of the island was cooler than where we’d docked—clear of the soupy mists and fresh as rain. A few scattered trees added a bit of shadow for hiding, but the ground was made of uneven paths with jagged stones and curve roots that wove in and out of the soil like serpents.
Each of us applied tongue oil to our ears, readying to hear new words, new dialects, but the language of Sepeazia was nearer to our own, and Cy was nearly fluent.
Gwyn whistled ahead of me as she dragged her fingertips across a few mossy stones that reached her waist, occasionally pausing topluck a blossom from the patches of flowers. One by one, she’d pick the pink and white satin petals, tossing them aside.
“All right?” I whispered.
Gwyn lowered one of her flowers. “We’re meeting a group of shifters, one of whom Cy says is practically a giant. Oh, and we’re here to get potent venom capable of rotting us from the inside out. Of course, I’m all right.”
I chuckled and let one arm fall around her shoulders. “At least we’re braver than those boys.”
With a villainous sort of sneer, Gwyn glanced over her shoulder. Asger strode beside Cyland, knife in hand, jolting and startling at the slightest hiss or chirp from the hidden creatures of the island.
Kage kept a pace ahead, doubtless unsettled. He had a bit of prejudice toward shifters, insisting you might never know their true face, but I thought it might have more to do with the betrayal awaiting us back home.
No mistake, from now on, trust from my prince would be handed to few.
Trees thickened the longer we walked. Along the edges of the cliffsides were boiling, natural springs. Vibrant soil and minerals burst beside the clear ponds, creating an otherworldly feel to the land.
Where trunks were thin and spindly, now they were thick and braced against the whip of sea air blowing in from the coast. Beneath the scent of brine was a heady tang of sulfur and damp soil from the steaming springs.
“Stop.” Kage held up a hand. “Someone’s coming.”
Through a row of thorny shrubs, a man—broad and carved in thick muscles—emerged. His clothing was lighter than ours, instead of woolen tunics and fur cloaks, he wore a sleeveless top with wrist bracers that hugged his full forearms.
In one hand he held a lit torch, and shadows from the flames caused the hollows of his eyes to gleam in a pitch like charcoal. Ashy braids were tied behind his neck and tethered with feathers that hung around his ears.
He was, without doubt, the tallest man I’d ever seen. Towering over the lot of us, even Cy.
By his side was a woman who looked like two of her might fit inside him. Her hair was a bold blue shade, like a clear ocean lagoon. Head tucked beneath the torch, skeins of light flowed over her athletic curves and golden-brown skin.
There was something almost . . . familiar about her. Much like when I’d spotted Ember—like a new tether, some connection burned between us.
Cy cut through the crowd, stroking Hakon’s feathers from where the hawk perched on his forearm. Under his breath, he murmured to his bird, then lifted his gaze to the man, eyeing the formidable spearhead jutting up over his shoulder. “Arjax?”
The man flashed a white grin and dipped his chin. “Cyland?”
With a touch of hesitation, Cy held out his other arm and waited for the man to reach down and clasp it in greeting. Arjax’s grip seemed to swallow Cy’s arm whole.
“You are expected.” His voice was deep and pleasant. A decade or two older than us, kind enough, but I could not help the bit of unease. “Will you join us back at our camp? You must be hungry after the journey.”
“We are short on time,” Kage said, voice rough.
The wince across his features was subtle enough, I doubted anyone else noticed but me. Pains from the weight in his blood were coming closer together.
