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“No ideas what the first bond is then?” I slumped in my chair. “Because if it breaks, we’re destined to fail.”
“These are the last steps.” Calista tilted her head. “What I know about the words of fate, the path of destiny, whatever it is you want to call it—it’s best not to shift out of order. We have a few answers. The smuggler and hiding the isles from bloodthirsty kings and queens. Let’s start with those first.”
“She’s right,” Stefan said, puffing out a cloud of white smoke. “Sometimes answers to the rest become clearer as you go.”
“Stef,” Calista said. “Do you think you can win us a boat ride to the fae isles?”
“You offend me, Cal. You know I’m about to get banned fromOlaf’sif I clean out the game patrons again. I’ll win us whatever the hells we want.” Stefan cupped one side of her face with his dust-smudged hand. “This step is dangerous; it will show you things about who you are that will frighten you. Trust me when I say you are strong, and whatever happens, you are ready to face it.”
She flushed. “Sounds like you’re the one writing stories now, Stef.”
“Maybe I am.” He wrapped her in his arms for a few breaths, then stepped back. “Be ready to move. It could take a night, could take days.”
“Better get packed.” The way Calista grinned, I suspected she was more thrilled than she let on. As the sisters said, the girl had a shield in place. One she did not wish others to see. A vulnerability that, like so many of us, added a bit of fear should she succumb to it.
My stomach flipped. One step closer. Hells, we were one bleeding step closer.
Chapter9
The Nightrender
The Black Palace
Sleep had abandonedme since the missive came. While Malin slept soundly, I’d stared at the parchment, the name on the front, and tried to ignore the pressure mounting in my chest. Instincts kept me alive as a boy and as the Nightrender.
The same instincts were still intact enough as a reluctant sort of king.
The strange, bloody glow of the moon added a bit of danger to the missive, like an ominous taunt that made it hard not to tear it open and read whatever was there on the page. It wasn’t for me, yet it was delivered to the Black Palace. The name addressed made it even stranger.
Why was it sent here? Odd timing was all.
By the time sleep finally crept behind my eyes, drawing me back to the comforts of Malin’s warm body, the door opened with a bang against the wall.
“Up! The North is here.” Tova leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.
I cursed under my breath and propped onto one elbow.
“What are you wearing?” My voice was rough. A hand swatted me in the chest. Malin, pale and a little green in her cheeks still, glared at me. “What? She’s in a dress.”
“So?” Malin hissed.
I dodged a second swat. Not that Tova looked unseemly, more that I couldn’t recall a time when I’d seen her in a dress.
“Don’t you like it?” Tova inspected her skirt, then popped a cloudberry onto her tongue from the stack cupped in her palm.
“Hard to run in a dress,” I said. “And climb. And spar. And—”
“Sometimes we women wear nice things.” Tova glared at me. “Does everyone in this bleeding place forget I’m not a man? Shall I lift the skirt and remind you?”
“Damn, Tova.” I sat up. “I was just surprised and didn’t know you owned a bleeding dress.”
Malin snickered into the pillow and mumbled something.
“What was that, Mal? I didn’t catch it.” Tova cupped a hand around her ear, cat-eyes narrowed.
Malin lifted her head slightly. “I said you’ve only owned a dress since Bard returned from Hemlig.”
A vicious grin split my lips, only to widen when Tova’s dark cheeks deepened in color. “Ah, now I see.”
