“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” she said.
Barely. Just a shell.
The green-hued ointment worked wonders on her burning skin. As it seeped in, the salve cooled like jellied ice, and eased away the pain, although it left behind a greenish tint.
Thora’s gift was in healing. Whenever Marai had scraped a knee or cut up her palms climbing the cliffs, Thora had passed a gentle hand over the wound and it would vanish. The herbal remedies she collected and prepared were infused with her magic to speed the healing process. It was a rare gift, even amongst pure-blooded fae. With all of them exterminated, Thora was the only fae healer left in the entire world.
Except, perhaps, in the land of Andara . . .
Marai shoved aside the thought of that mysterious country across the sea where she’d once been headed. She downed the cup of water in one gulp. Raife took the cup from her hands and replaced it with his full waterskin.
“We wouldn’t have known if you were alive had it not been for Keshel,” Thora said. That familiar, stern tone hadn’t disappeared, Marai noted.
“Was he keeping tabs on me?” she asked as Thora began spreading the salve across Marai’s face and neck, healing cuts and gashes as she passed over them. The small injuries disappeared from Marai’s body as if they were never there. Some of the physical pain ebbed away, and Marai loosened her grip on the rock to keep from falling over.
Thora’s frown deepened as a look passed between her and Raife. “He didn’t have much of a choice. Flashes of you would come every few months. But do you honestly think we wouldn’t care? That we wouldn’t wait anxiously for Keshel to share a new vision he’d had of you?”
Marai should’ve guessed the leader of the fae-pack would have received visions of her. Keshel, seven years her senior, had been given the heavy burden of raising a crop of part-fae children after the massacres left their parents dead. Keshel had the gift of foresight, the ability to see the future, present, and sometimes the past.
Thora lifted Marai’s arm and attempted to remove her glove.
Marai snatched her hand away and tucked them both behind her back. “I’m fine now.”
Questions and concerns flashed across Thora’s face. Marai knew if Thora saw her fingers, she’d fall into a panic, worried about their safety. The bloodstone ring seemed to burn a hole of culpability in Marai’s pocket. Another secret Marai was determined to hide from her people: Meallán’s ring. A faerie queen’s curse.
Thora opened her mouth to speak, but Raife leapt in first.
“I should let the others know of your arrival.” He gave Marai a weak smile. “So they don’t fall over dead from shock.”
Raife drifted off down the main tunnel; the crunch of his boots in dust grew distant.
Thora finished dressing Marai’s burns and wiped her hands on her apron. “Keshel told us you were on a ship for a while. And then explored the continent—”
“I wouldn’t call it exploring—”
“What was it, then?” Thora asked, voice rising. “Because you disappeared into the night and couldn’t be bothered to visit or send a message—”
“How could I send you a letter? This cave is in the middle of nowhere,” Marai said, throwing up her arms in a way that reminded her of someone else she knew. Someone she had left hours ago in the tropical southern port town of Cleaving Tides. She squeezed her eyes shut to erase the memory of him.
“You could’ve come back.” Hurt settled upon Thora’s face. “You wouldn’t have had to stay, but . . . you could’ve visited.”
Before Marai could reply, a squeal of delight ruptured the tense atmosphere. Dark arms wrapped around her neck, smelling strongly of cactus blossoms and eucalyptus.
“You’re here,” said a merry voice in her ear. “Raife wasn’t joking.”
Kadiatu, removing her arms, beamed down with her round face. Her black wiry hair was twisted into long locks and decorated with handmade beads.
“Careful, Kadi, don’t want to break fragile Marai, do you?” came a different sniggering male voice. “Arms like twigs, and no taller than the day she left.”
At the mouth of the tunnel, Raife stood with his twin, Leif, identical to nearly the last freckle. Both brothers had defined cheekbones and arrow-straight noses, although Leif’s sandy hair was shorter, unbound, curlier, than Raife’s. That, and Leif’s attitude, were the best ways to tell them apart.
A silent shadow lingered behind the brothers. Aresti.
When Marai had left, Aresti had been beautiful at fourteen. Now that she was an adult, Aresti was stunning: straight black hair, as shiny as a raven’s wing, cut severely to her chin. Sensuous curves were accentuated by her tight pants and shirt. She had several more piercings in her ears and nose.
“Why are you here?” she asked, putting hands on her hips as she stared at Marai with haughty scorn. On her belt hung two short swords, her signature weapons. “I thought we were rid of you.”
“That’s unkind, Aresti,” said Kadiatu, but it wasn’t a scolding. No, never from Kadiatu, who radiated kindness and purity unlike anyone Marai had ever met. “We’re so glad you’re back.” She hugged Marai again, and some of the horrible, crushing weight Marai carried lifted. She couldn’t bear to lift her arms to embrace Kadiatu back, but she breathed in the comfort, along with the smell of cactus blossom. Kadiatu brushed Marai’s wild, white-blonde hair from her face. “You look . . . different.”
“You mean dreadful,” chided Aresti.
Kadiatu rubbed her oily fingers together. “And slimy.”
“I covered her in burn salve,” Thora explained. “You should have known better than to walk here in broad daylight without coverage.”
“I didn’t,” Marai said.
The others waited for her to go on.
Marai continued. “I didn’t walk all the way here.”
“Oh, so did you fly?” Leif flapped his arms, shooting Marai that taunting jeer he’d perfected as a child.
None of the part-fae had wings. There wasn’t enough faerie in their blood to create those beautiful stained-glass wings that Marai remembered on her own father’s back.
All those vivid fae eyes bored into Marai, waiting for answers. Marai’s head spun. Too much had happened. She wasn’t an innocent child anymore. How could she explain each horrible thing that she’d done?
Footsteps sounded in a tunnel to her left.
