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“And then?” Oliver prompted me when I didn’t continue.
I thought of Evie, taken needlessly. Of Lily and Wolfe and the light they’d brought into my life in the short time I’d known them. Of Callan, who was equal parts enticing and infuriating at the same time. And of Nia and the pagu, who I’d only just met but already had shown me some of the magic and strife that consumed my home realm. Both realms depended on me.
No, this wasn’t a choice. I was done running.
I had to be.
“And then we kill my mother.”
ChapterSix
"Why do you wear these pants? This dunam?” Nia asked me as we stood in the armory of the Briar Stronghold. Oliver said he had some things to procure for our journey and had flown away on a cranky Aura a few hours ago. I was shocked she hadn’t dumped him on his ass the second he mounted up, but Nia had called in a special favor. If I wasn’t mistaken, it seemed the protective bird had a soft spot for the old halfling witch.
The armory was surprisingly impressive, a vast room with floor-to-ceiling racks filled with more weapons than I could even name, all consisting of the sharp and pointy kind. In the center were large wicker baskets, filled to the brim with clothing stacked in neatly folded piles.
“Denim,” I corrected her. “We call them jeans in the mortal realm. You don’t have anything like that here?”
“Why would we wear something so impractical? And tight?” She scoffed at my suggestion, and I eyed the simple ensemble she wore, a tight-fitting tunic that highlighted her battle-harden muscles paired with a simple pair of black breeches. I still wore my ratty jeans, stiff with crusted dirt and other things I didn’t want to identify. “You need to be able to move in the event of an attack. Those look like an unrelenting prison. And ugly too.”
My shoulders shook as my giggles turned into peals of laughter, the blatant confusion on her face slipping into a slight smile as she watched me. “Hey! These are not ugly, they’re fashionable. At least, they used to be. And they weren’t cheap.” I’d made sure to get my money's worth when Wolfe had sent me to the mall without a credit limit.
“Regardless, you need to be properly clothed if you’re going to do this,” she admonished me as she steered us toward the nearest bin. She sized me up, tossing me an outrageously large backpack, which we stuffed with comfortable-looking pants, shirts, sports bras, and a few sets of underwear. I was a pack-three-pairs-of-underwear-for-every-day kind of traveler, but thankfully she only gave me a slightly strange look when I asked for more.
We moved toward another bin in the back, where glints of blue and green shone out to me as the light reflected off the pieces that lay inside. I marveled at the armor that lay inside. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She picked up a breastplate, holding it in front of her so I could see. Glittering fabric peered back at me, covering the top from wrist to throat. They didn’t look super malleable, but as she picked up one sleeve, the material contorted as she moved, like a magnificent second skin. “It’s made from pagu feathers, imbued with a little extra magic that helps defend the wearer. Some of the strongest armor in existence while still offering utmost flexibility. Selling one of these would catch you a mighty sum.”
If she looked at me, she would probably see I had cartoon dollar signs in my eyes, but I smashed the urge down. It was not that long ago that I had been convinced to hunt down a rogue werewolf killer in exchange for ten thousand dollars, but that was barely even a thought in my mind now. My life had changed so much in such a short amount of time, in horrifying ways even, and yet I felt more passion for life than I ever had before. The realization seeped into me, rooting into my soul with an unclouded rightness.
“For you,” Nia said, handing me a full set of the armor she’d now stacked into her free hand. “Treat it well, you will need it.”
“Thank you,” I told her sincerely, gingerly sliding them into the backpack as well, a little bit concerned at how heavy it was starting to get. She started walking towards the weapon wall and a trickle of excitement slid through me. I followed, secretly admiring the deep color of her hair as it bobbed from side to side.
“Do you dye your hair?” It was long, almost down to her butt, and I sweated just thinking about the bill it would cost to get that done.
She turned sharply to look back at me, then sighed. “I forgot you don’t know all of this already. Hair color is a sign of power here. There are five royal bloodlines. Each bloodline has an affinity over a particular element, and you can always tell a royal by their hair color. Water royals have blue hair, like mine.” Her regal demeanor made more sense, the way she carried herself. She walked around like a natural-born leader, confidence always at the forefront. This was a woman born to be in charge. “Fire royals have red hair, earth has brown hair, air has silver, and lightning—”
“—has blonde,” I finished for her, finally understanding what the significance of my hair color was. Anyone I encountered would know I was related to Queen Tantaii, making me way easier to spot if she decided to come after us before I could get my memories back.Shit. “Wait, you said silver? Oliver is an air royal?”
She nodded. “Distantly, from what I understand. The air users are large in number, one of my favorite courts in the realm, actually. Aetia. The city is built in the sky, high above the treetops. Aura particularly likes to go there when we can manage to sneak away for a few days.”
“I’d love to see it sometime,” I told her with a genuine smile. This world was so broad, so different from my own, and the thought of exploring every inch of it made me giddy. “Does every royal family have a court?”
“Most of them,” she said, sadness creasing the corners of her eyes. At the wall now, she gestured to the weapons, dozens and dozens of deadly, sharp-edged blades. “Take your pick,” she urged me, not noticing my blank stare as I became overwhelmed with all the choices.
“I don’t know how to use any of this,” I told her, deciding honesty was the best policy when it came to weaponry. “I’ve only ever used a dagger I had, briefly. It was great, but I’m pretty sure it’s lost to the world now.” Grief at the loss frosted over my heart for a moment. The thoughtful present Callan had given me was now gone. He’d gone through all the trouble of fishing the gearshift out of the wreckage of my old car, lovingly nicknamed Stupid Bitch, and molding it into a weapon. And I’d lost it. I hoped Callan wouldn’t be too mad when he found out.Great going.
“Well, there are plenty of daggers here.” She walked me to one corner, where many daggers were indeed lining the wall, with various lengths of blades and hilts. She reached out and gripped one of my hands, startling me, and eyed it, mentally measuring the length of my forearm. She squinted at the wall, before finally reaching out to pick up a slender blade with an equally slender hilt and placed it in my hand. The weight felt good in my hand, comforting, but it didn’t feel as at home against my skin as Callan’s gift had. “This one will suit you. We’ll have to practice with it more on the road. The more you know how to defend yourself, the better.”
My ears perked up at that. “You’re coming with us?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she told me. A muscle in her jaw twitched as she clenched it tightly, a dark look passing over her face. “My father was one of the first to try to take a stand against Casimir after the Queen was cursed. I will soak my hands with Casimir’s blood in the same way he soaked in my father’s.”
“I am so sorry,” I told her, hoping she would feel the sincerity in my words. All roads led back to me and the choices I’d made. If I hadn’t run, her father probably never would have challenged the throne and might still be alive.
“Don’t ever apologize for choosing yourself.” She gave my hand a tight squeeze, my shoulders relaxing with her acceptance. “If my father had been stronger, he would be alive. It was his own naivete that got him killed. I will not make the same mistake.”
Shivers ran down my spine at her words. She meant business.
“Oliver and Aura should be back soon. Nightfall is coming,” she told me as we exited the armory, and true to her word, the sky was beginning to darken, both moons rising in the deepening sky. “I’ll show you to your rooms for the night. Get a good night’s sleep. We fly at dawn. Our journey is long.”
