Marai stiffened and sucked in a breath. Raife’s eyes snapped to her, but said not a word. Like the clouds dappling the sky, Marai let the memories drift away, and she relaxed again.

They crossed to the other side of the river before the current became too strong up ahead. They’d labeled this area, where the river turned deep, rocky, and hostile, the boundaries of their land. As a child, Marai used to go beyond to explore, climbing over the massive sandstone boulders on the shoreline, and would always come home to a berating from the others.

“It’s not safe,” Thora used to say.

“If you get lost out there, I’m not coming to find you,” Leif would taunt.

“Stop trying to be brave, Marai,” Aresti would snap. “You’ll end up dead.”

Marai hadn’t cared. She’d always wanted to see more. She’d always wanted to experience life. And she had . . . she’d seen and done many things. Things that would cause Thora to gasp, Keshel to shake his head, Leif and Aresti to shut their mouths.

Sweat trickled down her back, chest and neck, but Marai didn’t mind. She’d always relished the sun and heat. Once on the other side, Marai and Raife walked back towards the cave. Raife stopped to fill up his waterskin. He took his time, and watched Marai while he gulped down the contents.

“What’s the ocean like?” he asked after a moment.

Marai stared down the winding canyon pass. “It’s another world. The water can be calm, and the next minute, it crashes upon the beach with such force it can knock you off your feet, or a boat off course. Stronger than the rapids down the river. And it’s so vast, you can’t see anything but blue. You don’t know if you’ll ever see land again, like you and your boat are one tiny speck drifting along endlessly.”

Marai took a breath, as if trying to summon the briny sea breeze, but all she inhaled was dust.

“I’d always wanted to see it as a boy,” Raife said with a wistful sigh. “Were you ever scared out there on the sea? Being so alone?”

Marai hadn’t been alone. She’d been a member of Slate’s pirate crew, exploring and stealing across the seas. She’d thought, at the time, that she’d found her rightful place. Her home. Love. But she’d been wrong about it all. Captain Slate Hemming had never loved her. He’d used her for her body and for her magic. It was a scar that still hadn’t faded.

But she didn’t say all that to Raife. Instead, Marai shrugged and said, “Sometimes, but that was what made it so exciting.”

Raife gave her a wry smile. “You always had a strange sense of adventure.”

“And you’ve never strayed from the cave.”

“I do miss the trees,” said Raife in a voice so distant it sounded like a memory. “The whispering wind through the leaves. The chirp of sparrows. Leif and I used to climb up and return any eggs that fell from their nests. We’d run barefoot in verdant summer grass. True children of the forest. I’ve been wanting to go back to our ancestral home in the North.”

“Why haven’t you?” Marai asked. Raife was gritty enough; he could’ve set out on his own.

Raife stood and picked up his bow again. “I’d feel guilty leaving them all. I don’t think I’d make it far before turning back. Besides, Leif would never let me go alone.”

She hadn’t felt guilty for leaving all those years ago. Eventually, though, guilt always catches up.

Raife handed her the waterskin and she took a sip. “The humans . . . did they ever discover what you are?”

The waterskin froze at Marai’s mouth. “A few times.”

“Did they ever hurt you?” Raife’s freckled face darkened.

“One of them,” Marai said, “but I hurt him more.”

A savage smile grew on her lips at the memory of slicing across Captain Slate Hemming’s handsome face. His roguish smile was forever ruined, thanks to Marai; if he lived at all after the fire on his beloved Nightmare.

But Ruenen, the second human to know her full truth, he’d never hurt her. And Marai knew he never would have, if she’d given him the chance. If she hadn’t condemned him to death.

Marai reached for her magic, checking, but she hardly felt a flicker. Not a pulse. She was too drained; her magic hadn’t recovered. Or perhaps, like her heart, it had closed itself off.

Raife started walking again. “What else did you see out there in the world?”

“The White Ridge Mountains of Grelta—”

“Snow?” Raife asked, eyes alighting with interest. “Gods, I can barely remember the cold.”

Marai snorted. “Oh, I’ve seen my fair share of snow. And northern blizzards. I’ve seen the big cities of Fensmuir, Veilheim, Chiojan in Varana, Havenfiord in the Middle Kingdoms.” She glanced at Raife. He listened intently, lips parted.

“I think you were right to leave,” he said, causing Marai to nearly trip over her own feet. “You were always too curious, too brave. Fae aren’t supposed to live in deserts and dusty canyons. I’m glad one of us got to leave. No matter what you experienced out there.” Marai gaped at him and Raife smiled. “Don’t tell the others I said so.”

She’d forgotten how much she always liked him. 

Raife and Marai returned to the cave after their patrol shift. The sun began to set, the final rays bursting above the towering canyon cliffs in lush hues of red, orange and gold. Keshel sat outside on a rock, book in his lap, not acknowledging their arrival. His eyes raked across the pages, as if he couldn’t read the words fast enough. Raife shot Marai an arched-eyebrow before he entered the cave. Marai hesitated, then went to Keshel’s side. Thanks to Raife, her anger had cooled from the previous night.

“What are you reading about?” she asked.

The book in Keshel’s lap was old. Its tattered pages were yellowed. He didn’t look up, so Marai stepped into the sun’s path, casting a shadow down upon him. He finally raised his eyes, brows knit together.

“I’m trying to discover why your fingers turned black and what magic you used.”

Interest piqued, Marai asked, “Have you learned anything?”

“You’re unusual,” he replied, making her scowl. She’d been told that far too many times by him and Nosficio the vampire. “I’ve always sensed a different power in you, something far greater than the magic the rest of us command. Maybe even more than a full-blooded fae. And it’s not done growing. I don’t think you’ve tapped into your full potential yet.”

Keshel had said that before when she was younger. He’d seen it, that power, and Marai had experienced it first-hand: the lightning in the woods and on the ship with Slate. Then there were the portals, the doors that transported her between two locations. Strange magic that no other part-fae had.

Why had these powers suddenly appeared? Was it because she’d finally stopped hating the magic in her veins? Accepted that she was fae? Or was it because she’d started to feel. To care. To open up.

“Your well goes deeper, but it isn’t endless,” Keshel went on. “You used up your magic and then reached beyond your capacity.” It wasn’t a question.

Marai thought back to the day before. Yesterday. Gods, it feels like years ago. The other magic had called to her, had wanted her to use it, as if it had been lying in wait.

“I never knew magic could be dark, something truly forbidden. Black smoke clouded my brain. It wanted to control me, but I was able to stop it once I’d reached this side of the portal . . . once I’d calmed down.” Marai stared at her fingers. “I could sense the magic tainting me, but it also felt good to have that power. It flooded through me and gave me strength.”

But it had frightened her. The lack of control. She could have lost herself to the darkness entirely.

She met Keshel’s gaze. “Why do you think my powers are different?”

Keshel shook his head. “I don’t know. But the moment you came back to us, when you walked into the cave, I felt you before I saw. As if your very blood was charged like the sky in a storm.” He closed the book in his lap and stood, towering over her. “Magic is similar to a living being. Every living, growing thing on the planet contains a form of life energy or magic. It has no rhyme or reason for what it does, how much power it bestows, and the kind of magic each being possesses. I’ve studied it for years, curious about why I have the gift of foresight and Thora can heal. Oftentimes, it does pass genetically through each fae lineage. Thora is descended from a long line of healers, and I had a great-grandmother who shared my gifts, as well. But you . . . you’re entirely new. At least, as far back as four generations.”

The hair prickled on Marai’s arm. Why was she so different? Why had her magic developed in such a way?

“Then there’s this ring.” Keshel held out his hand. Marai pulled the bloodstone ring from her pocket and placed it in his palm. He examined it closely from all angles, wonder appearing on his face.

“It called to me,” Marai said, “and enhances my powers somehow. Or maybe the ring opens me up to my magic more.”

Keshel turned the ring over in his hand. “I can feel the essence of magic in it, but it doesn’t call to me. This ring chose you. I can feel it humming with your imprint.” He handed her back the ring.