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Nikolai and Vrail dismounted their horses and pulled off their boots. Nikolai scooped Vrail’s up and carried them with his own.A muted yellow trailed after Nikolai while Vrail left footprints in her signature scarlet red.
“Why does everyone have a different color?” I asked, pulling off my own boots.
“Everyone leaves behind a color unique to them. Though the hue may shift depending on the state someone is in while they cross.” Riven pointed to the deep tone of Syrra’s footprints. “Syr’s are always richer when we leave on a mission and lighter when we return.”
“The changes track your mood?” I understood how heavy a mission could be.
Riven’s bottom lip protruded as he mulled over my question. “In part, I suppose. But it reflects the embodiment of your health as a whole. Your mind, your body, and your spirit all at once. If each are in balance, then the sand will appear as your true color.”
I stilled, suddenly nervous to step onto the beach. It felt like I was putting myself on display but had no knowledge of what I looked like. I swallowed the panic and grabbed my horse’s reins.
I looked down at Riven’s bare feet. “Do all Dark Fae have some kind of purple?” My chest fluttered in excitement, thinking mine would be a simple silver. Nothing more to understand than the color of my eyes.
Riven’s laugh was hollow. “No. It’s a rare color, for Fae and Elverin alike.”
Nikolai and Vrail had stopped in the sand and turned back to us. “Stop stalling and get on with it, Riven,” Nikolai shouted. “Keera doesn’t care about your abnormally long toes.”
My head dropped to see what Nikolai was talking about, but Riven had clouded his feet in shadow.
Nik crossed his arms and I could see the arch of his brow from a beach away. “I’m not shocked,” I called back. “He’s abnormally longeverywhere.”
Nikolai exploded into a fit of laughter as Riven choked on air. I nudged him with a sideways grin.
“That was an unnecessary amount of information,” Gerarda muttered behind me. She tucked her short boots underneath her saddlebag and stepped into the sand. Her footprints were pristine impressions of her tiny feet, each dyed a mulberry so pale it was almost gray.
Gerarda didn’t look back once to see the color of the trail she’d left behind. “We need to move, Keera.”
I took a deep breath and stepped onto the cool sand. It felt like any other beach I’d ever walked on. My heart twinged thinking of the day I brought the sand into my room for Gwyn to walk on since she wasn’t able to pass the palace threshold. That day, her footprints would have been something bright and lively just like her laugh. My stomach tightened, wondering what color they would be now.
I took three steps along the sand and turned back. My footprints were not silver at all, but green. The springtime jade of new buds along the trees and the fresh leaves of flowers yet to bloom. It was a pretty color, but rimmed with a thick line of black that cast a gray wash over each print.
Riven’s eyes were locked on the sand. His back rigid, like he had forgotten how to breathe. I waved my hand and his head snapped up, walking beside me without a word.
Syrra waited for us at the edge of the water with the others. Nikolai’s eyes were wide, staring at the footprints behind us. I fought the urge to cover my own, but Nikolai’s gaze was locked on Riven’s.
His footprints were so dark, the deep blue tones were almost indistinguishable from the black. Nikolai met Riven’s hard stare and raised his brows, having some kind of unspoken conversation. Vrail grabbed Nikolai’s arm and stepped into the water. The moment they touched the sea, they both disappeared as if walking behind a veil.
Not a veil, but a glamour.
That thought was enough to break it. The glamour dissolved into tiny droplets of water that fell back into the sea, revealing the long port filled with ships of every size and shape. Some had no sails, vessels that could only be powered by Fae gifted with water magic. Others had huge sails stacked along their posts like a bouquet of flowers for several wind wielders to fill.
But we only had me.
Our ship was docked at the very end of the port. It was long and skinny and reminded me of the single-person vessels that some fishermen use. It had a short staff with two small sails hanging limply from the top. There was a small upper deck on each end with chambers underneath them.
I grabbed Syrra’s arm as the others brought their bags onto the ship. I waited until they were out of earshot to ask my question.
“What do the colors mean?” I pointed to Riven’s dark footprints that had set Nikolai and him on edge.
Syrra crossed her arms, the scarred branches pulling tight across her muscles. “I am not trained in such arts.”
I scoffed. “I have no patience for lies. You know enough to explain it to the likes of me.”
Syrra’s lips pressed together, and I thought she would turn away and ignore my pestering entirely, but she cracked. “Everyone’s color usually stays within the same family.” She pointed to mine. “Yours will likely always be some shade of green, but hopefully they will brighten.”
I flinched, sensing the worry in Syrra’s words. “Why?”
“Because black is the color of treachery.” Syrra shrugged. “The darker your prints, the more treacherous you’ve been.”
