Page 164 of A Thief Among Fae

This is not the catharsis I was hoping for. If anything, we’re both more tense than before we arrived at the lake. Maybe I shouldn’t have confided in Evie, but I’ve trusted her my whole life. There was no reason not to trust her now.

“We should go home. Mom’s probably wondering where we are,” I murmur.

“Yes,” Evie says, staring at the coastline like she’s deep in thought. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter 48

Irun, caustic black smoke billowing behind me. It nips at my ankles, my neck, scalding me with irreversible decay. My skin dissolves as if drenched with lindwyrm venom, revealing white stripes of bone and withering muscles. I stumble to my knees. My vision glows a spectral blue.

Wealth surrounds me, but the smoke devours it, too. Metal corrodes. Gemstones shatter. I crawl toward a mirror as the glass spiderwebs with cracks. And what I see stops me cold.

Milky white eyes stare at me. Remnants of flesh hang from bone. The draugr’s rotting hand reaches for its hair, dry and stringy with age.

How? How have I become this?

Then a figure approaches behind me. A tall man with dark hair and pointed fae ears, clothed in black. He raises his hands, and I obey, rising with them. Hisses creep from my throat as I approach him, every dragging step controlled by his will.

Hazel eyes stare me down, an unmistakable scar across his chin.

Then Prince Eldon steps out from behind, raises a sword to the necromancer’s neck, and–

I wake in a damp sweat, panting and clenching the sheets. “Sorry, Evie,” I murmur, because it’s impossible that I didn’t wake her.

Except Evie isn’t in bed.

As my hammering pulse slows, I search the dark room for her. Maybe my thrashing woke her up minutes ago, and she went downstairs for a midnight snack. Or, she might’ve left to curl up at the foot of our parents’ bed, figuring being cramped is better than sweaty sheets.

She’s alright. It wouldn’t be like Evie to go out at this hour.

So I lie back down and stare up at the rafters, counting the seconds until fitful sleep can claim me again.

“Girls, get up!” Mom orders from our doorway. “Sun is almost up, and we’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

I blink, bleary as I roll over. “Seriously? You can’t wake us up like this. We’re not children.”

Evie stirs beside me. “Don’t feel good,” she mumbles. “One more hour?”

“Let me think about it.” Mom tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “No.”

“Not fair.” Evie buries her head under her pillow as Mom heads downstairs, tutting about her lazy daughters. “Maybe I’ll take you up on moving to Mythos, Cynthia. I want to sleep forever.”

Why did I not consider that? “You can move without Mom and Dad,” I tell her. “I’ll load them up with marks, and then they’ll be fine without either of us.”

Evie grumbles. “No more chores?”

“You can bet on it.” We finally climb out of bed, Evie yawning and dragging her feet.

“Girls! Come outside immediately!” Mom shouts.

We hurry, pulling on our boots. We shield our eyes from the dawn as a commotion echoes from the center of the village. Mom gestures for us to follow her, even though we’re still in our nightclothes. “There’s a royal crier here. She wants everyone to gather for an announcement.”

Dread rouses me. The last time a crier made us all gather, it was an announcement that tithes would be raised. But the only other reason I can think of. . .

Desmond has assassinated Queen Orla already. And he’s either dead or on the run.

I shudder, remembering my nightmare, remembering the real Desmond. The one who so gently cupped my face when I was hurt. The one who told me stories, despite professing that he never would.

The village elders are at the crowd’s front, surrounding the crier as she toots on a small horn. “A message from her royal highness, Queen Orla Meirden,” she calls out.