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No one answered me, but almost in response, Aine said, “I am so hungry I think I may know what starvation feels like.”
I pressed my lips together and caught Iola’s eye over Aine’s head, smiling slightly for the first time since we’d left the capital.
“Fine,” Scion barked. “We’ll stop here.”
No one bothered us or even looked up when we walked up the muddy road and through the gate into the tiny village square.I was somewhat surprised not to draw more attention. Eight was a large number to arrive in such a small village unannounced but a terrifyingly small number to have escaped a castle that held hundreds. I supposed if anyone realized that royals stood in the street, the reaction might have been different, but glancing around, it wasn’t hard to see why no one would recognize us.
Iola looked the least damaged, while Bael was by far the worst: shirtless, still covered in dried blood, and wearing an expression that warned of violence. I practically shivered to look at him—whatever smiling, joking prince I’d known was gone, replaced entirely by the beast now dominant in his energy.
Scion walked beside him, looking hardly any better. The gash on his face appeared as if it would scar, given that it had been made by a Source-forged weapon and hadn’t yet healed. Oddly enough, the wound didn’t detract from his appearance and only added to his dangerous aura. The only thing that made him look less lethal was the fact he was carrying Princess Elfwyn.
As if she could read my mind, the child opened her enormous silver eyes, unblinking and eerie. The last time I’d encountered Elfwyn, she’d tried to kill me. Now, she seemed as lost and innocent as any other child who had just lost their mother.
Although,I reminded myself,Mairead may not be dead. She had possibly left with the rebellion. What little there was left.
Thalia and Aine walked on the far side of the group, their heads together, whispering so low I couldn’t hear them. Both had burns on their hands and arms. Thalia’s long, blonde hair was so burnt I suspected it would no longer brush her shoulders when she finally untangled her braid and saw what was salvageable.
My eyes flicked over everyone once more, comparing. Considering. I wondered distantly what I must look like. Not that it mattered, but had I truly been changed, or was that simply my mind lying to me as usual?
We walked down the main road—the only road, I noticed— passing a few shabby wooden houses on the right and a blacksmith on the left. A yowling screech pierced the night, and a door opened and slammed again, bringing with it the sounds of voices wafting toward us on the breeze.
“Shall we find an inn?” I asked dully.
What I really wanted to say was “Now what?” or perhaps to merely scream, but I could not find the energy. Perhaps after I’d had something to eat. Washed the gore from my skin. Slept. Anything.
“I don’t know that we can,” Thalia said, acknowledging me for the first time. “Being recognized could only lead to further trouble.”
I glared at her, already finding myself baring my teeth, preparing for an argument, but Scion beat me to it. “Next time, I shall try to remember to land somewhere more remote,” he snapped.
No one replied, and the silence was almost physically painful as we walked for another few minutes. I glanced over at Bael, hoping to communicate with my eyes that any plan would be better than none. It didn’t matter.
“We need to rest,” Bael said as if reading my mind. “We’ll take the inn. I doubt there are enough villagers to cause a real risk.”
“But—” Thalia began.
“I can bewitch all those inside,” Elfwyn said, her tiny voice an octave higher than anyone else’s.
“Is that wise?” I asked Bael.
He didn’t grin or shrug or make any of his usual jokes, merely staring straight ahead as he answered. “She’s capable of it.”
I wasn’t sure how to say what I meant to ask. “Yes, but should she be allowed?”
He looked over at me now, eyes flashing with pent-up aggression that I knew had nothing to do with me or the conversation we were having. “No one else has the energy to bewitch a fly, little monster. If Elfwyn can’t do it, we’ll just kill whoever is there. It’s worth letting her try.”
There, I realized, was the real answer to why we’d landed in this small village and every small village before now: fewer people meant fewer witnesses. Fewer bodies to clean up. Less blood on our stained hands.
* * *
The village innwas little more than a house, with a few extra rooms upstairs and a tiny, lightly stocked kitchen. There were seven people inside when our bedraggled group traipsed through the door. Elfwyn removed five, sending them back to their homes with a mere suggestion. The other two were now lying quietly in the wine cellar.
I was growing numb to violence. To killing. I wished I could blame that entirely on the Everlasts, but in truth, was it not I who had picked up a crown to beat in the skull of a king? Was I not the one who just unleashed a hoard of afflicted on the world?
It was something I would need to consider, but not tonight. Not when I had so much else swirling around my much-abused mind.
An hour later, we’d eaten all there was in the small kitchen and sat in the main room of the inn, in only slightly better spirits.
Though everyone was tired, filthy, and clearly needed rest, no one seemed to want to go upstairs. At least, not immediately. It was as if sleeping, bathing, doing anything would put a finality on the night that upset the Fae more even than me.
