Page 17
Faldir jogged over, swiping his forehead with the back of a hand. “Bloody sunstar.”
“Aye. Try being covered in fur.” Solyrian had been torturing them, the Montrealm’s summer hotter than Mag recalled it being before. “Here.” He tossed Faldir a wet rag and waved him along.
“At least we’re nearly done for the day,” Faldir said, stumbling after him as he scrubbed the sweat and sienna grit from his scarred face. “I’m fucking starved.”
“You and me both, but save that thought. If I’m right, and I’m pretty damned sure I am, Lyriat’s about to make us double our efforts.”
Magnus led Faldir to the spot, up a slope of loose bricks and splintered furniture to a half-missing window in the remnants of a second floor room, and freed a shaky sigh when he saw the pins were still there. Part of him was convinced they wouldn’t be.
“Well?” Mag gestured to the sill, where they’d been arranged one after the other in a straight, neat line. “Tell me what you see.”
Faldir raised a brow at him and shouldered past, clearly skeptical. Mag did his best to ignore the rapid thump of his pulse while he waited, scratching at his beard with trembling fingers.
Weeping arseholes, he was tired.
—You need a drink. Some food—
I wouldn’t complain about an ale as big as my head, that’s for sure.
—Water, Maggie. You need a drink of water—
What he needed was for Faldir to confirm whether those belonged to his cousin, so they might have something resembling a win. “Well?”
Faldir turned, the pin in his hand ready to snap beneath a shaky, white-knuckled grip. “How are these here? Like this?”
The last word was spat, belying his thoughts on their arrangement.
“I wish I knew. I swear on my mam’s life they weren’t there before today.” Mag shook his head, needing to hear it said. Out loud. “They’re Nyri’s, then?”
“Yes,” Faldir growled low, fat tears wobbling on his lashes.
Well there’s a sight I never thought I’d see.
—Aye. Poor lad—
Magnus couldn’t have said why he was having so much trouble trusting it. Why the whole situation sat ill beyond the obvious, like he was forgetting something important.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m bloody fucking sure!” Faldir crushed the pin, mangling it. “I made the damned things.”
—There’s no lie in the words or body, Maggie. Only pain—
The dig site went quiet, Demons paused mid-work to stare. Mag clucked his tongue at them, chuckling. “What, you’ve never heard the Third Commander shouting curses? Go on, back to it. There’s nothing to see here.”
They didn’t need rumors to reach the castle before they got there themselves. Lyriat would lose his stars-damned mind. Faldir must’ve thought the same. He scooped up the remaining pins and shoved his way past Magnus, half-stomping, half-slipping down the rocky decline.
“Fal,” Mag called, chasing after him. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s happening!” Fern’s raspy shout sliced across the distance.
He spun and spotted her racing through the air, heading straight for them. Pet’s excitement vibrated outward, filling Mag’s veins with something other than despair for fucking once.
Did I hear her right?
—Aye. I think you did—
Fern jerked to a stop, verdant wings flapping slowly to keep her hovering above them. “Get your blimmin’ jaw off the ground and come quick. Lunara is stirring.”
