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“Do you trust her?”
“I don’t trust humans.”
“If they wanted to harm us, they certainly had the chance.”
“As if you could not have killed them all,” I said louder than necessary. I waited for the fear. You could always feel it, especially in a crowd. But while the humans we wary of Arran… they weren’t afraid.Thatworried me. “We linger long enough to find out what they know of Avalon, and then we are on our way. The less we have to do with the humans, the better.”
A soft, warm pressure against my hand.
“They looked scared to me,” Maisri said, slipping her hand into mine.
My fingers closed around them instantly, without thought.
I… I’d never held a child’s hand.
How strange was that?
“Of course they were scared. Have you seen Veyka when she’s in a temper?” Lyrena said, laughter edging her voice.
“Lyrena—” I rolled my eyes backward.
But my eyes snagged on Maisri, shaking her head emphatically. Holding tight to my hand.
“Not scared of us. Scared… here, and here.” She touched her chest, then her eyes.
I could feel the weight of Arran’s gaze.
She was right. They weren’t scared of us—not even Arran. And the only plausible reason was that they were scared of something worse.
I saw the tick in Arran’s jaw, beneath the scruff of stubble. He understood.
But he offered nothing as we arrived at the elder’s home.
The house was simple but immaculate. A single story, but from the window several feet above the door I guessed there was a loft of some kind. The stone walls were washed white with paint, glass windows and a well-fitting wooden door carved with an intricate design.
Nicer than I’d expected.
I’d imagined the humans living in little more than huts. They had no wind magic to help lift heavy timber, nor water gifts to ease the carrying of materials along the river. They lacked the strength of the fae. I knew that I could have lifted Sylva easily with one hand. But apparently what they lacked in magic and power they made up for with numbers and tenacity.
The inside of the house was as lovely as the outside. Stone walls, but lined with tapestries to keep out the cold. Comfortable furniture, if less jeweled and gilded than that in the goldstone palace. It was all… startlingly normal. Similar. Too similar.
Humans were different—less. We all knew it.
Even this sly crone.
But she was seemingly unbothered. She opened the door to welcome us in, leading us through an entryway into a cozy sitting room. The windows were closed against the cold—it was already much colder in the human realm than in Baylaur—but the curtains were thrown back to let in the streaming sunlight.
Sylva didn’t even wait for us to sit before bustling over to the corner and busying herself with a delicate porcelain tea service.
“You drink tea in Annwyn, I believe.”
Statement, not question.
“You seem to know more about us than we do about you.” A fact that unnerved me.
She set the tea to steep, pulling water from a kettle that had been heating on the hearth. When she turned back to face our group, her eyes went right to me. “The giant takes no notice of the ant he squishes underfoot. But the ant is well aware of the giant’s movements.”
A rush of pain within me.
