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Forbi smoothed her tattered skirt. “Is this the part—”
“No more parts,” I snapped. Irritation grew potent and hot in my throat. The more time we wasted making pathetic, pointless deals, the more time Davorin had to find a way into the Court of Blood, a way to Ari. “I will let you read the path of runes for me, but you must deliver the quill. I know how to deliver the storyteller feathers aplenty, and I’ve no doubt my feather quills are a special kind on their own. If you want the reading,let us in.”
Forbi studied me, head tilted. “I knew a girl like her once. Had power she never could see. I hope she sees better now.”
My tongue felt sticky and thick in my mouth; I was unsettled, and a shiver raced up my arms like the creeping rats in the corners of the West’s hovels. “I suppose I’ll see whatever it is your runes reveal. I’ve survived rune spells before, what is one more?”
Forbi beckoned us inside. I kept a hand on one of the knives from Calista’s flat and followed behind Stefan. Calista squared her shoulders to the old woman as she strode deeper into the house. From floor to ceiling, the laths were coated in what looked to be centuries-old dust. Pungent hints of mildew and damp linens struck my nose. I parted my lips to breathe through my mouth.
To one side was a dilapidated staircase. Every other step was cracked or broken, and the railing tilted precariously to one side. We were led down the narrow hallway with plenty of candle sconces on the walls, but no candles. Thick, humid shadows surrounded me, almost heavy enough to taste. I was forced to reach out and take hold of Stefan’s arm.
He didn’t protest, even muttered, “Keep close, My Princess.”
I didn’t dwell on the title, didn’t even think much on the fact that he’d claimed me ashisprincess.
He was keener to proper semantics than his sister, or so it seemed, and it likely was nothing more than a rough man from the dregs of the West trying to be polite. To those in the South I was more queen than princess since Riot was gone, but I enjoyed the title of princess. It made it seem like my brother was not watching from the Otherworld, like he still held the throne.
Forbi trudged us through the house for what seemed like hundreds of paces, until at last, the corridor widened to a circular room.
The furnishings were simple, a few benches made from twigs and branches, a small table with wooden cups filled with water and cloves for a makeshift tea. In the center was a bear fur rug that was matted and tattered from turns of use.
Two more women sat atop one of the longer benches, drinking the clove water. One shared Forbi’s thick hips and neck, but her eyes were clear and dark. The second was rod-thin with curled, yellowed fingernails and plump lips, like she’d been stung by a wasp moments before.
Calista rolled her eyes and faced me. “Meet the hags who call themselves the Norns. Forbi you already had the pleasure to meet.” Calista pointed at the skinny woman. “That’s Danna, and the melancholy one over there is Oviss. They’re seers with a proclivity to connect the past, the present, and the future into one forward path. Hence, the Norns.”
“You are hesitant to speak with them,” I muttered. “Why?”
“They unsettle her because they say things that frighten her,” Stefan whispered, smirking at his sister.
Calista took out a small knife from her belt and spun it around, more like a habit than a threat until she pointed the blade toward the woman and grumbled, “They do not. They’re irritating.”
“Is this the part where whispers call her home?” Danna asked, much like her sister. Glassy eyes, low tone.
Calista looked away, a pulse to her jaw.
“Cal,” Stefan said. “You told me all that had ceased.”
“It has,” she hissed back.
“Has it? Because I also told you to keep me informed.”
“So you can worry tirelessly?”
“Gods.” Stefan closed his eyes. “No, but it is important that I know if—”
“What are you talking about?” Irritation sparked in my chest. The feeling that Calista kept secrets fueled an instant need to lash out. I would not risk Ari’s life, and if dangerous secrets were being kept, I had little patience.
“Nothing that involves you, Raven Queen. Only a few ghosts of the slums.” Calista glared back at the three women. “We’re here for other matters, not voices in the dark. Now, if you old hags would shut your mouths, we can get to it.”
Now, Oviss lifted a brow. “So, this is the part where the strings of the two fates collide?”
Patience was spent. “Enough talking. I have a husband locked in a fae sleep, and I need some damn help getting him free of it. If you cannot be of use, then I am done speaking in circles.”
Forbi peered at me, head tilted. “What else brought the royal her to us?”
“She’s talking about you.” Calista nudged my ribs.
My tongue was dry, my throat parched, my whole body seemed to exhaust at the thought of all the risks we faced. My shoulders slumped. “My husband sleeps, but his body is infected with a dark magic that will consume him. He must wake, but I must heal him first.”
