They’re going to catch me anyway.
I just need them not to catch me yet.
That’s the thing about creepy abandoned warehouses: I happen to know a modest percentage of their operators. Meaning I know how they prefer to communicate their illegal dealings.
Several winding halls later, I find the office where the operator of this facility would have done business back when it was up and running. The door is locked, so I smash through the door’s window, gasping in pain as the shattered glass digs into my elbow.
Then I climb through.
The office itself is a mess. Clearly looters have already turned it over. Stupid looters, given they left the most valuable substance, the liquid moonlight, alone, but still.
It’s a good thing that what I need from this office isn’t valuable.
I scramble toward the desk, hearing the footsteps of Abra’s soldiers approaching in the hall.
Most of the desk drawers are locked, but the topmost one in the center isn’t. I yank it open and gasp with relief.
Inside is a quill, the feather of which is the color of blood.
Just what I was looking for.
Bloodquills are illegal, less because of anything insidious about them, and more because they make the life of a criminal convenient.
I grab the quill and dig the pointed tip into the flesh of my arm, tracing the tattoo on my wrist.
The tattoo itself is in the shape of the cottage rooftops of Evaen, the little village Marcus and I one day dream of raising Amity in.
He bears a matching one on his chest, right over his heart.
We got the tattoos to celebrate our marriage, but they’re functional as well, especially when you have a blood quill at your disposal.
Now that the link is established, I dig a message into my forearm.
By the time the guards reach me, I’ve stuffed the quill back into the desk, and the wounds on my arms have magically vanished.
I’m pretending to try to escape out the window when they grab me.
CHAPTER 26
ELLIE
It’s becoming harder and harder to keep my pregnancy from Blaise. For one, my belly has begun to bulge further. Up to this point, it’s been rather easy to keep my condition hidden. The puking stopped around the time Evander returned from Mystral. Though I can feel the changes in my body, the fact that I’m on the taller side and my core is firm from years hauling around glassblowing materials means my belly has been easy to hide underneath my parka.
Back when we were in the mountains, and a parka was appropriate attire.
Thankfully, thick, loose overcoats made sense as we cut through the Kobii mountains. But since we descended into the ravine that separates Avelea from Charshon, the weather has warmed, and it’s become less and less practical for me to wear a coat.
“We have to tell her,” I tell Evander one night. He sits in front of me, refusing to sleep in the cot with me, claiming the baby and I need extra room. Instead, he sleeps on a bedroll half as thick as mine.
It’s all a tad ridiculous, but if I were to say it didn’t make my heart all warm and fuzzy, then I would be a liar.
“I know,” he says, which is his response every time I broach the subject, so I know exactly what’s coming next.
“But if we could just give her a little more time,” we practically sing in unison. Evander glances over his shoulder at me, then leans back on my lap as I play with his hair, the crown of his head knocking against my bump.
“I can’t wear that parka any longer, Evander. If I wear it one more day, I’ll overheat and melt.”
“But it turns me on when you’re sweaty,” he says with a grin.
I tug on a strand of his hair a little harder than is necessary, and he winces.
“I know you want to protect her,” I say, a little more softly this time. “Believe me, I do too. I can’t imagine the hurt she’s been through—is still going through. But we can’t hide the truth from her forever. I try to keep in the middle of the group so she doesn’t sense the extra heartbeat, but eventually she’s going to notice. And besides, you’re assuming she’ll have a certain reaction without even giving her the chance. What if it won’t bother her as much as you think it will? What if—I don’t know—she’d actually be happy for us?”
“It’s not that I don’t think she’ll be happy for us,” sighs Evander. “I just think it will hurt, that’s all. I know I can’t predict what she’ll do or how she’ll feel. But I just don’t want her watching us live a life that was stolen from her.”
“It doesn’t change anything, you know. That we’re happy. I understand why you’re nervous, and I don’t want her to hurt, either. I certainly don’t want to be a constant reminder of what happened to her. To her child.” I shudder, unable to even approach what it must have felt like to lose her baby. Twice. “But you never know. We could, in trying to spare her pain, be depriving her of a little happiness too. Sometimes they go together, you know.”
“That, my love, makes no sense whatsoever, and proves that you are, on slim occasion, wrong.”
I laugh, but Evander’s echo soon dies on his lips, and he whispers, “I’m sorry. You’ve been really patient with me. With this entire trip. I know it would have been better if I’d never made this promise, and I could be rubbing your feet. You could be propped up on the sofa at home right about now.”
“My ankles aren’t that swollen yet,” I chide.
“I love you, Ellie Payne,” Evander says softly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re going to be the best mother.”
