Page 37 of Winds of Ruin
“You’re beginning to sound like Asterie.”
“Don’t tell her that. She’ll start adding hours to my school day.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m off to bed now, though,” she chirped and crossed the room, bending to peck me on the cheek.
“Goodnight, little troublemaker.” I ruffled her hair before she rose.
“Night, Aunty.” She conveniently backed away with her stolen romance tomes.
The years when she’d sat on my shoulders picking plums from the trees had been too short. Now she stood on the cusp of her teenage years. Her face had lost its chubbiness, and she was already outsmarting all of us.
This must have been how Fen felt when I was a child. He’d been born a century prior to me, and growing up, it had felt as though I had two fathers.
I’d never possessed much maternal instinct. Then Lark arrived in the world. There were no ends that I wouldn’t go to in order to keep her safe.
I settled back onto the sofa as my niece’s footsteps ascended the stairs. Her door closed, and I let out a sigh. My gaze returned to the flames as I pulled a quilt over myself.
Suddenly, my eyelids grew as heavy as cast-iron pans. Served me right for staying up all night.
I slipped into fitful sleep, dreaming of that horrid day. The Moirai screamed as they swarmed the pit of the amphitheater below.
Caym’s hand stretched toward Ryn, who stared at me.
No, no, no. Pay attention.
Just before Ryn’s face crumbled, it shifted into someone new. Emmerick smiled at me, then he turned into dust on the wind.
Chapter 15
Larkspur
Aunt El snored in the parlor.
Clutching the green leather book and stolen key, I slipped past her and out the back door of the estate. Being so far from the city, Lamoreaux had only a few guards standing watch while I visited. They had lazily stationed themselves on the front veranda by the gardens; nothing threatening ever lurked at the estate. I heard the clink of their mugs and the buzz of hearty conversation.
I ran for the cover of the orchard, where I moved tree by tree through the shadows. An owl cooed in the tree line of the Hussa Mountain Forest, and crickets hummed their monotonous tune.
Reaching the stables, I rounded the corner toward the barn doors and slammed into someone.
I gasped. The grass was slick from the prior day’s rain, and one foot slipped out from beneath me.
He let out a dramatic,Hmph.I grabbed his forearms to steady myself.
“Dritan?” I whisper-shouted into the dark.
“I think you broke my toe,” he groaned. “Did anyone follow you?”
The moonlight caught the outline of his face as he looked down at me. He’d grownsotall this year.
“No,” I answered.
With that reassurance, he lit a small flame in his palm. His face came into focus, and he smiled. “Hello, Princess.”
I punched his arm. Hard.
He had sprouted hair on his chin and cheeks. Upon first noticing it, I had poked fun at him—but then I’d realized how drawn my unwavering attention had become to his face.
“What are you trying to murder me for today?” he joked, rubbing his shoulder.
“You startled me.”
