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He chuckled and drew his own. The monstrous thing was even bigger than mine. Without even a hint of effort, he tapped my weapon and knocked it out of my hands. It clattered when it hit the stone by my boots.
“Well, that’s hardly fair,” I told him.
“I want to train you to use a sword. Properly, this time. That means knowing how to handle someone who has a bigger weapon than you.”
“You’re just overcompensating.”
A wicked smile curled his lips. “Now you, of all people, know that is certainly not true.”
Heat raced into my cheeks. Did I ever.
“Fine.” I collected the sword from the ground and propped the sharp end against the nearest boulder. “I do want to learn.”
“Good. Your first task is carrying that back to the castle.”
“Carrying it—wait. Aren’t we going to train here?”
“The song of steel could draw pookas, and you aren’t ready to fight them yet.” With an amused smile, he nodded at where I’d rested the blade against the rock. “Swords are heavy. You need to get used to carrying one before you can even think about wielding one in a battle.”
I eyed him warily. “You use straps to carry yours.”
“Not at first, I didn’t.” Kalen took the sheath from where I’d tossed it onto the ground and pressed it into my hand. “Use your strength. You have plenty of it.”
Nodding, I strained to shove the blade back into the sheath. The length of it was awkward in my hands, but I managed to get it after a few failed attempts. It was a matter of angling the two components just right. A glimmer of satisfaction glowed within as I held the sword and started off down the path.
Together, we returned to the safety of Endir’s streets, where humans and fae could find comfort in the thickness of the walls that kept the shadowfiends—the pookas—from attacking. And a thought struck me as I took one last glance behind us just before we passed through the gates. There was no true barrier here. No protective power to tempt the humans to stay. No magic preventing the fae from leaving. Everyone was free to come and go, but no one left. The people of this place were just as trapped by the mist as I had been—trapped by fear.
I looked up at Kalen with determination in my heart. “We will find a way to fix this.”
Thirty-One
Morgan
Oberon stumbled back and forth at the mouth of the cave, frowning out at the mists as if they held all the answers to his troubles. He’d been at it for hours, and he wore weariness like an anchor around his neck. His body folded in on itself, and his lungs rattled with every step. Burns covered every inch of his skin.
“Just sit down,” I said.
“Sitting will not help me work through this maze.”
“A maze of your own making,” I said with a bitter smile. “Those who play with fire shouldn’t be surprised when they get burned.”
“Enjoying this, are you?” He folded his arms and narrowed his gaze at me. “You’re just as stuck here as I am.”
“Yes. Thanks to you, the maze maker.”
“What would you have me do?”
“I’m not telling you how to get out of this. Figure it out your fucking self.”
His eyes glowed with an orange so bright that it almost hurt to look at him. “Perhaps I should order you to hunt down the Mist King and slit his throat.”
I stilled. “Go ahead. He’d murder me before I even raised my blade, and then you’d lose your captive servant.”
“It’s a shame you have no confidence in your abilities.”
“You know as well as I do how powerful he is. Mark my words. If you send me after him, he will kill me, especially after you forced me to trick Tessa into believing he betrayed her.”
“If he cares that much for a pitiful human, then he’s more twisted than I thought.”
