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I may be better than a Mortal in her eyes, but I would never be an Elf.
“I agree that sending the Shades away is preferable to disguising ourselves,” Syrra said evenly, “but that does not mean I trust you, child.” She crossed her arms as she faced me. Her mouth was drawn into its usual straight line.
I shrugged. I didn’t trust them either. The only show of good faith they’d demonstrated so far had beennotkilling someone.
“Nikolai can come then,” I offered. “Make sure I don’t get up to anything I shouldn’t be.” My eyes shot daggers at Riven who was saddling the last horse. His shoulder blades were pinched together. He didn’t like the suggestion, but he didn’t reject it.
“Me?” Nikolai said, placing his hands on his chest. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing,” I said, my attention turning to him. “Don’t speak. Don’t even breathe if you don’t have to.”
Nikolai huffed.
“I mean it, Nikolai,” I said, loading the rest of my blades into my belt. “The only reason you’re coming is because Riven thinks I need to be supervised. You’re the only one who can pass as Mortal.”
“Do I get a weapon?” Nikolai asked with a crook of his brow.
I raised an eyebrow back at him. “Do you know how to use one?”
“Not really,” he said with a shrug. “But I don’t want your friends to know that.”
“The Shades are not my friends,” I said automatically. “Shades don’t have friends.”
“And why is that?” Nikolai asked. He was studying his nail beds, but I could see his nonchalance was an act. Probably for Riven’s benefit.
“Because friendships get you killed.”
The suns set as we reached the outskirts of Caerth. We only passed a few wooden dwellings before Syrra turned her horse toward the safe house at the south edge of the city. Nikolai and I would continue to the market in search of the Shades. Each of our hoods were pulled forward shielding our faces from any curious townsfolk.
The others wore different shades of traveling cloaks, but I wore my black cloak and silver fastener. Both felt tighter around my neck now that we were in the kingdom. I coughed, pulling the silver sword off my throat with my hand. Riven’s back was straight in his saddle, his knuckles bulged from gripping the reins so tightly. He nodded at Nikolai before leveling me with a deadly glare.
“If you do anything that results in his death, I’ll hunt you to the edge of the realm.” Riven’s eyes were dangerous storms, churning as he held his anger back. I could see the worry in the violet clouds, worry that this would be the last time he saw his friend.
I turned to Nikolai, expecting to see a surly smile, but instead I saw Gwyn. The worry I felt each time I left her alone at the palace within the clutches of the prince. I blinked and Gwyn was gone. Instead, Nikolai had transformed intoher. She disappeared in an instant, fading back into my dreams where she belonged.
I snapped my head to Riven, willing the memories to stay locked inside the vault I kept in the darkest reaches of my mind. It had been so long since I’d let myself think of her face, felt the burn of her absence.
I swallowed, flinching as the pain rose to my eyes. I don’t know if it was the need for a distraction or the concern on Riven’s face, but something called me to pull out the bloodred dagger at my thigh.
Without thinking, I pulled the blade across the tip of my fourth finger, deep enough that amber blood began to pool. I reached over to Nikolai, mounted on his horse beside me, and wiped the blood across his forehead.
“If he dies by my hand, then I shall die too.” Feron hadn’t mentioned a specific phrase or oath when he told the story of Calen and his lover. Only that the magic of the vow was carried in the blood itself.
“Can she do that?” Riven asked, turning to Syrra. Her wide eyes trailed over my face and settled on my cut hand.
“She has Elvish blood,” she murmured, tilting her head. “The Halflings do not hone their magic because the practice is kept from them, but they too have magic in their veins.” Syrra’s eyes flicked to Riven. He crossed his arms, his gaze falling back to me.
“The blood oath will hold,” Syrra reasoned with a stiff nod.
I raised a brow at Riven. He refused to say anything else and started down the street toward the safe house. Syrra followed him, her eyes not leaving my hand until her horse turned down the path.
I turned to Nikolai. He was dabbing his forehead with a silk handkerchief from his pocket. “This can’t be sanitary,” he mumbled.
“I’d say I’m sorry,” I whispered, leaning closer to his horse, “but I’ll probably need to use that trick again before the month is out.”
Nikolai pulled back his head in a laugh, his hood falling behind him. He winked before pulling it back up, casting his face in shadow.
I smiled back, hopingmyblood would be the only blood spilled in Caerth.
