Page 63 of The Stolen Crown

“Tools are decent.” Mira stepped into one of the abandoned cottages near the borders of the village. She held up a leather-wrapped kit filled with chisels and small mallets with iron spikes. “Doesn’t seem like…well, like they’ve been gone long, does it?”

I shook my head and finished coiling a sturdy strand of rope. Every surface of this village left a prickling feeling beneath my skin. There was a bit of reluctance in the notion of returning, but on the other hand, the opportunity to find supplies to aid us in escape won out.

Bones were scattered throughout the old township, but none so brittle to hint they’d been dead for decades.

Whatever happened to this village, to these strange folk, I did not want to be here should it return.

After three days of scavenging the empty homes, we had sturdy rope, iron skillets, more than one pair of trousers, boots, and dainty sandals with golden ribbons that fit Mira’s feet well enough.

At my last count, we’d burned a dozen piles of bones with a few makeshift totems and appeals to the Otherworld to beckon them into the great halls or seas. There were still more that would need to burn, and Mira was determined to see it done.

I placed the rope atop a pile of old linens and spades that would be useful for digging or as weapons and took note of a bound leather tome. The top was covered in a fine layer of dust. Strange symbols scrawled over yellowed pages in a language I did not understand.

Likely worthless, but I tucked it beneath my arm the moment Mira stepped to my side.

Her gaze lifted to the empty rafters of the small dwelling. “What do you suppose happened?”

“Who’s to say? Could be battle, disease. I do not want to stay long enough to find out.”

All Mira returned was a somber sort of nod before leaving me to continue exploring the far corners of the village we hadn’t reached.

Not more than a chime later, Mira’s shouts froze the blood in my veins.

“Tait! Hurry. Come quickly!”

I dropped the handful of leather scraps and raced to the back gates.

Mira’s head poked through a gap in the wall. She waved her uninjured hand in a frenzy. “Come!”

Then she was gone again.

I nudged one of the old crooked panels on the gate out of my path. Water trickled somewhere nearby. Buried in the tangled vines and brush were stone steps leading down a slight slope.

“Tait! Down here.” Mira’s voice echoed through the trees.

Bleeding woman. Always running ahead. What if something horrid met her in the trees? The thought of it burned in my blood. She could not seem to grasp that I was desperate to keep her alive, and the more she pranced through an unknown wood, the harder my purpose became.

At the bottom of the staircase, my eyes went wide. All around, leaves were edged in faint shimmers of gold. Vines were laden with fruits, some were withered from lack of care, others remained plump and vibrant as polished copper.

Almost like the molten vine we’d found days before.

A wide lake took up the center of the clearing. Water as clear as glass was undisturbed and reflected every gleam of the vibrant foliage. From over a dark stone ledge flowed a gentle trickle of water that hardly rippled the surface.

“Tait! Here.” Fifteen paces away, Mira waved.

All gods, she stood beside a battered boat. Strange in its structure, clearly meant to sail the gentle lake alone, but the wood seemed sturdy and it was well crafted.

On my approach, Mira beamed, nearly quivering in a new thrill. “It’s a little rotted on the bottom, but—I don’t know—maybe we could fix it? We have a way to get home, Hearttalker. Right? Do you think it can sail?”

I inspected the craft, the wood, the design. There were no sails, not even a mast. Merely notches for oars and an old crate built into the back, likely for fish. Still, the shape was good, rounded a bit in the center, but sturdy nails kept the smooth planks together. Seemed to be a bit of a cross between an earth fae longship and a sea fae skiff.

Mira rocked on her heels beside me. “We can drag it to the shore and test it, see if it can withstand the currents.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather take it apart and rebuild a few elements. Make it sturdier. We need to successfully sail through the wave line. As it stands, this will capsize.”

“But? The way you’re speaking doesn’t sound entirely hopeless.”

“I think it could work.”