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To lose Ari when I’d only just gotten him was a fate I did not know if I could face.
“Youcando this,” Calista said, one shoulder popped in a shrug. “You don’t have a choice.”
I let out a long breath, then nodded. “I don’t. My only choice is healing Ari, and making sure he wakes. What did you send to help?”
“Don’t know. Like I said, just had the feeling that someone or something might be able to help. Feels right, feels like a step toward something bigger.”
Life was exhausting and weighed on my spine like a boulder tumbling down the curve of my back. I wanted to cry, but refused to wallow another day. I clenched my fists and sent a silent prayer—no, a command—to my stubborn husband that he’d listen to whatever bleeding thing Calista sent his way.
“Were you . . .” I glanced at the dusty rose on the shelf. “Were you speaking to someone?”
Calista didn’t flinch, she merely offered a half grin. “Myself. Broke my quill, and it means I’ll need to go somewhere I don’t want to be going to get a new one.”
She fingered the broken quill tip, a distant look in her eyes. I didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked back to the rose. A brief glance, but there all the same. I’d spent countless turns being a raven spy in the isles. Not much escaped my notice. But I was missing something here. A secret, a lie, some trick the girl had up her sleeve.
My gut tangled in a sharp jab, almost like whatever I couldn’t see was right in front of me.
I knew little about Calista. A few passing remarks in Ari’s longhouse of the girl who’d helped Valen Ferus find his queen, a touch more about the moments Calista sailed with Ari to the Eastern shores to lock the Northern king in yet another curse.
She was powerful. Truth be told, I thought she might be more powerful than she knew.
“Anyway,” she went on, “We’ll worry about getting my new quill in a moment. I had enough to write a bit of a nudge for your king. Hopefully it takes, and meets the twists in his tale.”
Fate was a strange magic. I’d witnessed Riot fret over his own seidr enough that I knew it offered games, experiences, and at times, brutality to shape each soul for the path they stood to walk.
Ari had fallen off his path, but it meant a great deal that he mattered to folk who could right him again. It meant everything that she was here with me, fighting for our chance at the dull, beautiful life filled with peace in a longhouse deep, deep in an undisturbed forest.
I’d pass on the bleeding crown to anyone who wanted it. Perhaps the isles could become an extension of Etta and Valen and Elise Ferus could rule, so long as Ari and I were left alone.
The obstacle in our way to our blissful existence as deep forest fae was Davorin. The battle lord was free and overpowering the fae isles. I didn’t know what my home would look like when I returned.
I wrapped my arms around my middle. “If the Norns are real, how do they allow your twists in their destined paths?”
“They don’t. Not always.” She propped her chin onto the heel of her palm. “My magic is a push and pull with the Norns. If I pull too much, I get blocked until I find a new path to write.” Again, her eyes flicked to the rose. I considered asking about it, but she barreled on. “What I know about fate is we can choose to step on the path set before us or not. There are consequences either way. I twist the path like I open a new door. Once it’s written, it often overpowers the original path.”
“And Ari’s fae sleep is that new door?”
She paused before going on. “Each change angers the Norns a little more. I must be careful not to overstep my power, which is why I gave your king a choice to trust what he discovers about his place or not. Most don’t get a choice. Once that parchment burns, it is their destiny.”
“What happens if you anger the Norns too much?”
Calista sighed. “I could bring about a true fate curse against us all.”
Like Riot had done. He’d twisted Davorin into a shadow, he’d cursed our lands, divided the magicks of the fae into the kingdoms of today. He’d faded into oblivion.
My brother had done it to protect those he’d loved. Truth be told, I feared I might do the same to protect the beautiful bastard who’d stolen my frosty heart.
And Calista was beginning to sound a little too much like my brother for comfort.
“You were singing,” I whispered. “My brother used to sing.”
Calista arched a brow, studying me with a bemused sort of expression. “Odd.”
“What is?”
“Don’t know. Just feels like that should mean something to me.” Calista scratched the side of her head and stared out the window at the break of sunlight carving through the shacks and tenements of Raven Row.
“Perhaps you’re a bit like Riot. He was powerful, but altered fate too much. I hope you take care.”
