Swordwielder.His name was KoleSwordwielder.
No wonder the guard had bowed to him.
CHAPTERFIVE
Despite my shock atwhohad saved me from my delusional neighbor, along with my heightened response to him and potentially impending insanity thanks to the Stone’s arrival, I didn’t have time to contemplate any of those minor hiccups. However, if the Stone truly was going to turn me into a fairy as deranged as Abel—with or without Kole Swordwielder’s presence—I had best go about finding it immediately, so its effects would stop.
The second Kole disappeared from view, I picked my jaw up off the ground and leaped back onto my carpet. It wasn’t long until I was journeying steadily eastward again, and the capital fell behind me.
The Wood’s abundant trees and plants flew past my peripheral vision. Vibrant swathes of color filled the land. When a burst of magenta and sapphire vines, a common species ofploramix, brushed against my shoulder, I duckedmy head to the right and kept my carpet going at its max pace.
And with every mile that passed beneath me, my head cleared more, but that only made my heart thrum. Because while my mind no longer felt muddled—hopefully, it would stay that way—it wasn’t free of my uncle’s impending doom.
I couldn’t fail. Ihadto find the Stone.
My anxiety on the cusp of blooming, I used the Wood to keep me grounded. Rich scents from its soil and abundant plant life helped keep me focused, so I concentrated on that, and I began to catalogue each plant I recognized in my dashing flight across the land.
Diafill, a beautiful flower that only blooms at the cusp of nightfall. Useful for temporary magical beauty enhancements when crushed, and relieves sore feet when boiled.
Meer, a deadly herb that can be mistaken for thyme, and has killed more fae than any herb combined.
Avose, my favorite plant in all of the Wood, known for its lightly scented petals that make a lovely addition to salads if served whole, but if crushed, dried, and placed toward the sun at the cusp of dawn, it will become infused with magic that is the perfect cure for horrendous hangovers.
The fact that I knew the recipe for a hangover cure had made me very popular in my university days before I’d begun my job at the library.
Hours passed as I flew steadily eastward. I stopped several times to consult wildlings, but they all told me the same thing.Hundreds of fae had already flown through the Wood ahead of me, also heading east toward wherever the Stone had landed. Because of Abel, I was behind all of them, but it’d resulted in another unexpected patch of good luck.
There hadn’t been any fae on the road who had bothered me.
I’d passed a few who were traveling in slower-moving carriages, but they’d ignored me, so I’d spent the day almost entirely on my own. Perhaps the lock of Goddess Nuleef’s hair was working after all.
Evening neared, and the chatter from wildlings in a nearby tree filled the air, distracting me momentarily. At dusk, the Wood always came alive in a new way as nocturnal animals and the Wood’s sleeping wildling fae awakened.
I activated my sight sensory ability, courtesy of my Ironcrest magic, and catalogued the dozens of wildlings that appeared perched on branches, rummaging through the Wood’s floor, or flying from tree to tree. With my eyesight enhanced, it was so easy to see them in their shadowy burrows or pick them out despite their camouflaged coats.
Above, the pale green sky grew darker. I couldn’t see the horizon—it was impossible considering how dense the Wood was—but if I’d been able to glimpse it, it would have undoubtedly been a myriad of blazing colors.
In other words, nighttime would be here before I knew it, and that only meant one thing.
I would soon know if what my book from the Isle of Song proclaimed was true.
A burst of nerves flipped my stomach.Please be true. Please be true.
Nerves alight with hope, I bit my lip and searched my surroundings for where I could camp for the night. I would need to be careful not to disturb any of the local wildling fae. Their homes were often in underground dens, hollow trees, burrows on the Wood’s floor, or nests in the tree branches.
Wildlings weren’t likesiltenites, my kind, who were entirely magical. But wildlings did harbor Old Wood magic, which was usually primitive, and varied in strength depending upon their wildling subspecies, but even though the wildlings weren’t siltenites, they were still fae, despite that many siltenites considered the wildling fae lesser.
Yet I had learned over the seasons, during my many visits to the Wood in my university days, that even though wildlings often looked more animal than fae, they were anything but. Many were intelligent. Most were kind. They also made very good allies given their innate understanding of the Wood, and throughout the coming weeks, the wildlings would inevitably make my journey less lonely since many of them were capable of language despite their animalistic forms.
My thoughts drifted to Kole. I wondered if he ever spoke to wildlings or if he felt, as so many other siltenites did, that they were beneath him. I hoped not. It would be disappointing if he did.
Abruptly, I snapped my shoulders back. “Gah, seriously, Prim? You’re thinking of him again?”
I harrumphed. It wasn’t the first time my thoughts had meandered his way. It didn’t help that I had no idea who he was, other thanwhathe was, given his last name. The mystery of him only added to my curiosity. To have one of his kind randomly roaming Whiteolf’s streets was rare, and I doubted he was hunting the Stone.
Or perhaps he was. Perhaps he had been tasked to find it by the Imperial Council, in which case, he would be a very worthy opponent.
“Even if he is after the Stone, it doesn’t matter. Just forget him.” I huffed and berated myself anew because it was crazy—trulycrazy—that he still managed to creep into my thoughts hours after meeting him. “Maybe the Stoneismaking me go insane. Actually, it probably already has. You are currently talking out loud to yourself, Primelle. That isnota good sign.”
