His eyes shutter, tightening at the corners. ‘I’m your chaperone,’ is all he says.
I arch a brow and reach up reflexively to strum the string of my bow before remembering that it’s now just a pile of matchsticks in the Ridge tunnels. My arm falls loosely to my side, and I experience a begrudging spark of gratitude for my companions, sullen or otherwise. If it weren’t for them, I’d have met the same fate as my weapon, my remains buried forever inside a rocky tomb. I try not to shudder.
Spinner ladles some soup into a bowl. ‘You should eat.’
I return to the camp and descend on the food. Sheen watches me with only mild disgust, picking at a loose thread on his ill-fitting shirt. Like Blaze and me, he and Spinner have chosen to pose as Fidra too. It’s strange seeing them like this. Toned down. Disguised. Only, they’ve really just traded one disguise for another, because as members of the emperor’s court, they’re always in disguise. Unlike the rest of the Etheri, Eyes never wear their gift colour, only Imperial gold. That’s what makes them dangerous – their unpredictability. Their power lies in the fact that we don’t know which element they wield.
Except, I do know which element Spinner and Sheen wield, because they showed me. Vanishing in one place, reappearing somewhere else entirely. Travelling through the air.Flitting, just like King Balen.
‘So,’ I venture, scraping my bowl clean and holding it out for more, ‘when were the two of you planning on telling me that you’re Ventalla?’
A long pause.
‘Er … soon?’ Spinner suggests.
‘Never,’ says Sheen.
‘Well, that’s too bad,’ I tell him smugly. ‘But the good news is, now I know your secret, we should make it to the Waterlands in record time.’
Spinner shakes her head. ‘No.’
‘What d’you mean,no?’
‘We’re not flitting,’ she says firmly. ‘We have to go on foot.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Because it’s too risky,’ she says simply. ‘The wind still belongs to King Balen. It spies for him, listens for him. Flitting can only be a last resort. Besides, it’s awfully draining.’
I let out a long-suffering sigh and get to my feet. ‘I’m going to wash.’
‘Thank the Gods,’ mutters Sheen.
I shoot him a dark look before ducking through a leafy canopy of trees, emerging next to the Creek. The water is bracing and blissfully cool. It eases the heat in my burns.
I emerge sometime later, cold but clean. A neatly folded pile of clothes waits for me on the bank. I pull them on, step into my boots, tug my eyepatch back over my head andreturn to the camp, where Spinner leads me by the hand into the makeshift shelter. Sheen sits at the entrance, playing absent-mindedly with a small current of air.
‘Aren’t you going to ask what we were doing?’ I say. ‘Blaze and me?’
Spinner shrugs. ‘We already know.’
I stare at her. ‘You know? About the three sisters? About the talismans?’
‘Mm-hm.’
‘How?’
Spinner smiles, her dark-green eyes sparkling. ‘I have friends in high places.’
I let out an exasperated huff. ‘Anything else you’d like to share?’
She tuts. ‘Someone’s a little grumpy.’
‘That’s because someone’s had a long day.’
‘Then why doesn’t someone get some rest?’
I do feel tired, come to mention it. I’m still weak, and my head aches. It’s exhausting, almost dying. Really wears you out.
