Page 130 of Veil of Blood and Bone

I glance at Audra but she’s not paying attention. Her eyes have blurred, gone unfocused, her face angled toward the opposite wall and the shelf of books and plants and rocks we’ve collected over the years. The jumble is disorganized and random to anyone who isn't us.

She’s a ruined rose with her curls wild around her face, lost in thought, her arms resting on top of the blanket. Both are muscled and strong and a direct contrast to her matchstick legs.

“She’s always been gifted,” Forest explains gently. “It’s true. Her power of Sight sharpens each time her body declines.”

“You mean she’s...” There’s no delicate way to say it.

Nicholas looks at Wren, Forest, the floor, and his lips thin. His mug cracks further. No one acknowledges it.

Coffee slides over his knuckles in narrow brown lines while his black eyes stay fixed on anything but me.

Here's my confirmation.

I scrub absently where my watchband usually rests, over pale skin that refuses to tan.

“Her dedication to Freyja only grew what came naturally,” Forest adds. “She’s always had the voice of foresight, and a conscience to ground herself against the chaos. At first, we thought her promise to you would be a lifeline. Now it’s more of a guide. A way to bring us back.”

My sister has been through a great deal. Her entire life has been a delicate coexistence with pain, her stability an emotional counterbalance when I wanted to drown in it all.

But how much can a person take and still remain optimistic? A believer in reason and fate?

“Leave her out of this for now,” I urge. “I don’t want to add more pressure to her.”

“I’m fine, Helene,” Audra replies, still lost in thought. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it handled.

“The Norns communicate through her. That makes her important.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Nicholas, I appreciate it.” My voice is bitter and black.

He glares at me before saying, “It doesn’t matter now. No one else had insight for me. If we believe the talk, it still leaves us in the same place.”

“How many people did you speak to?” Forest wants to know.

And through it all, Wren is conspicuously silent.

Will he volunteer his information? About who he met? My gaze narrows. Shadows tickle the space between my socks and my pants, a reminder. Of course. I ignore them.

“As many as possible.”

I glance at Wren to find him watching me.

“The cycles have repeated themselves too many times to count,” Nicholas says for my benefit. “This time is faster. It means something.”

“A new weaving, perhaps?” Wren supplies with uncharacteristic coyness.

Forest’s stare sharpens. “What? Where did you hear that?”

“It would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Excitement animates his black eyes. “Why even Frejya would stir from her ivory pedestal? Why the leaks are happening between worlds?”

The knot in my chest tightens. “What do you mean, a new weaving?”

Lights flicker, a low drone in the air, louder with my question.

Wren lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s nothing for you to worry about⁠—”

I’m on my feet. “Tell me or I’m out.”

His shadows tighten around my ankle.