Page 109 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“Thank you,” I offered, “but I was on the way to meet with Visha. Snow can eat in the meantime.”

“You can meet the witch later,” Alaric said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Let us sit for a meal as a family. I am sure she has passed to you all the many times I’ve requested that. And I am sure all the times she’s given me your rejection have been justified. Ey?”

Snow scoffed and chucked a bunch of hair behind her shoulder before strutting away irked.

Nia hooked her arm around Alaric’s and lifted to plant a kiss on his stubbly cheek. “Don’t be angry at her.”

“Not angry, little hen. Frustrated.”

“Imagine how frustrated she is with all that is happening,” Nia said, her gaze following Snow till she disappeared over the bridge heading to the castle. “At least it's been a few days since she’s gone down the dungeons. Tristin said all the councillors are gone.”

Snow sat beside me, jollily slurping her hot stew, burning her tongue and choking every other spoonful or so from how fast she ate.

I rested a hand on her spoon, waiting for her to chew what she had on her mouth before letting go. “Slower, love, just a bit slower.”

Her other hand curled over the table as if she needed the grounding, and she tried to slow her mouthfuls.

Alaric sighed and shook his head to himself. The look he gave Snow told me he knew why she ate the way she did. There was regret in his shadows. “You were out of line today, kid.”

“There was no line. Only rock. Very wobbly and curved rock.”

He smacked the spoon down. “For Caelum’s sake.”

She did the same, the silverware almost pierced a hole through the wooden table. The father and daughter shared the same temper. “I told you that there was something wrong with the beast.”

Alaric sighed. “There was nothing wrong with the beast. Why would there be something wrong with the beast?”

“Perhaps there could have been,” Alastair limped into the dining chambers, setting his crane to a wall and taking a seat. He bowed to me and asked Snow, “What is it that you think you saw?”

“The eyes,” she said with a fully stuffed mouth. “They were too…too…human looking. Does no one think of them as strange lately? The way they cluster—Foglings have never clustered before. They never feed on what they kill either, but now they are tearing through human and animal alike. When we pulled clouds back, before they would only hover above our cities and now they break buildings, run through houses. It is almost as if they are aiming to do so.”

“They could be evolving,” Nia said, returning to the table with a bowl of stew. “Adapting to new conditions. Hi, papa.”

Alastair beamed. “You left early. And without breakfast. I made eggs and toast how you like them. Cai finished it all though.”

Cai scoffed. “You practically threatened me to eat it all so there was no waste.”

Nia scrunched her face apologetically. “Had to leave early for Eldmoor.”

“How long?” I asked. “How long have you noted these changes in the Fogling?”

The whole table turned to stare at me. It was Alastair who answered, “About a year or so, but it only got worse last summer. They would not come down on the cities, they’d roam overhead, feed on light and the bustling life below, but never attack. We lived with them for almost twenty-seven years and they’d never been a problem before.”

Hells. “Since when have the Isjordians been lingering and dying over Myrdur?”

Every set of eyes on the table doubled, including Snow’s.

“But,” Nia said, looking over at Cai whose breathing had picked up, “we are burning them and spreading ashes over the Seer Sea.”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. They are still dying in Myrdur. The magic is potent over Myrdur. The Isjordian soldiers are turning into Fogling.”

“He could be right,” Visha said, reaching our table and taking a seat. “It is possible. It could also explain why the Fogling are different, more aggressive, too. And why I cannot sense any Isjordian souls lingering in the ruins. If souls have already manifested themselves as these monsters, it would explain that.”

Alaric pursed his lips with regret. “And I am afraid there is nothing we could do at the moment besides fight both sides off.” He sighed loudly, eyeing his eldest daughter. “Tell me you’re not scheming some other manoeuvre of yours, kid.”

“I won’t tell you, as always,” Snow said. “The pre-lecture hurts my morale.” She nudged my thigh with hers. “Let's have Visha see you before you wither on me and die.”

“Your confessions of love always warm my heart, my missus.”