The knife tapped a dull rhythm on the wooden cutting board as Seraiah chopped vegetables for dinner. Everything had come from the greenhouses at the castle or the castle’s storage cellars. As she’d told Sterling, she’d known about the greenhouses, but she’d been shocked the first time she’d stepped inside the cellar and seen row after row of shelves filled with preserved food. It was enough to keep the four of them fed for at least two years—or more.
But we can’t stay here that long, Seraiah thought, laying down her knife and rubbing at her neck.
They needed to move on. She needed to move on. As much as she didn’t like leaving the home she’d grown up in again, Ratha no longer felt like home. The parts of it that had made it home were missing. They’d been here almost a fortnight now, and yet she was no closer to finding the missing people. She had a sneaking suspicion if she wanted answers. She would have to seek them elsewhere.
After her failed sparring match with Kai, Seraiah had searched the library for anything that might be helpful. Kai’s comment about someone more powerful being able to move all the snow had struck her. If it was possible to move all that snow, was it also possible to move people? The way they had vanished as if in the middle of what they were doing suggested it could be magic, but who had enough power to do something like that?
There were books on almost every topic she could think of in Lady Zahara’s library, but not a one on magic. There was nothing that even came close to the book of stories Jensira had given Sterling.
Of course there wouldn’t be given King Berenger’s feelings on magic, but Seraiah had still hoped.
She scraped the vegetables, a mix of wrinkled peppers from the greenhouse and carrots from the cellar, into the pot she used for stew. She added a sprinkle of herbs and salt from the jars on the counter—all of which had been luxuries before she’d left Ratha, but now she had easy access to thanks to the castle.
Her thoughts were still stuck on who might have enough magic to disappear an entire city of people as she gave the pot a stir before carrying it to the hook over the fire.
Could it be the mages again? Certainly one of them alone wouldn’t be able to accomplish it, but as a group? Sterling might know more about them than she did, but she was loath to remind her sister of her kidnapping and imprisonment.
Seraiah had just settled the pot over the flames when Kestrel pushed through the swinging door that led to the dining room.
“Need any help?” Kestrel’s black hair was damp, as though she’d just taken a bath. She’d left it loose around her shoulders and it made her appear younger. Sometimes Seraiah forgot they were of a similar age because Kestrel seemed to know so much more than she did and carried herself with an air of confidence Seraiah had never been able to master.
“No,” Seraiah said, turning back to the fire, “but I could always use the company.”
Kestrel sauntered over to the worktable and leaned against it, poking at the jars of dried herbs lined up there. “Isn’t it Kai’s turn to cook dinner?” she asked. “Not that I’m complaining,” she quickly added, “if you know what I mean.”
Seraiah tossed a grin over her shoulder as she poked at the fire. “He won the bet,” she said. “So here I am.”
“The bet?” Kestrel picked up a jar of rosemary and inspected it.
“Winner of our sparring match didn’t have to cook dinner,” she elaborated.
Kestrel snorted. “That was poorly done. You should have ignored him.”
“I know,” Seraiah shrugged, “but I thought there might be a small chance I could win, and even though I didn’t, it was worth a try.”
Kestrel nodded and set the jar back on the counter. “It was good practice for you, at least. Can’t let all my work go to waste.”
“I think it already has,” Seraiah grumbled. “Did you see any of the match?”
Kestrel flashed her a grin. “Only the end. Frankly, I’m surprised Kai asked for you to take his place cooking dinner. If it were me and I made the bet with Eryx, I would have asked for a kiss.”
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“I don’t think you would need to make a bet for that,” Seraiah teased.
“I suppose neither would you,” Kestrel tossed back.
Seraiah suddenly became very interested in watching for the pot to boil.
Once the stew was merrily simmering away, she returned to the worktable. Kestrel had stolen her knife and was playing with it.
“And how are you doing?” Seraiah asked, eyeing the blade as Kestrel tossed it from hand to hand. “We haven’t spoken in a while.” They still talked to each other, of course, usually at meals, but it was never about anything substantial. Never about Nyrene.
Kestrel set the knife down and went back to fiddling with the spice jars. “Fine. I suppose. Better than others.” She’d let her hair fall in a curtain around her face, blocking her expression from view. “I might feel better if I had any idea what was going on over there. Any scrap of news at all.”
“Would it be possible to get a message inside or out?”
Kestrel shook her head, shoulder’s hunching. “I couldn’t say. We know nothing about the conditions there. We would have to go back through the portal and ask around. The faeries might know something or even the gnomes.”
Pain twinged in Seraiah’s chest at the mention of the gnomes. They likely had no idea what had happened to Lonan. He’d gone along with her to show her the way out of the mountain and hadn’t returned. At the very least, his friend Therill must be wondering what had happened to him.
She bit her lip. Someone should tell him. Therill had a right to know and properly mourn.
Seraiah felt the weight of Kestrel’s stare, but when she glanced up, Kestrel wasn’t looking at her face.
Seraiah had flipped her braid over her shoulder to hang down her back when she’d hung the pot over the fire, leaving the mark in full view. She quickly pulled her braid forward again, and Kestrel turned away, heading for the door. “I’ll let the others know dinner will be ready soon,” she mumbled.
Even after Kestrel was gone, Seraiah still imagined she could feel her gaze lingering on the mark.
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Sterling pushed lumps of carrot around with her spoon. She’d fished out the other vegetables in the stew and left the carrots for last. She’d never particularly liked them, no matter how they were prepared, but she especially didn't like them once they’d become mushy.
She glanced at the others seated around her. Everyone was quiet, which wasn’t unusual for mealtimes, but this time the quiet felt heavy. Kestrel, she observed, seemed lost in her own thoughts and was picking at her food, much the same way Sterling was picking at hers. Meanwhile, Kai kept sneaking looks at Seraiah when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.
As for her sister, she kept touching the mark on her neck in a distracted sort of way before seeming to realize what she was doing and quickly dropping her hand and checking if anyone else had noticed. This had repeated several times already.
Sterling heaved a sigh and let her spoon drop onto the table. The clatter drew everyone’s attention to her.
“Is something wrong?” Seraiah asked, concern knitting her brow.
Sterling ignored the question. She pushed her bowl away and folded her hands on the table in front of her. “I would like to propose something,” she announced. “I spoke with Kai about this yesterday, so maybe he’s already told you, but I think we should leave Ratha.”
Kestrel tilted her head, a spark of interest lighting her eyes. “And where do you propose we go?”
Sterling smiled. “I think we should go south. To the capital.”
Sterling outlined her reasons much the same way she had with Kai. She left out the part about Ren telling her there was a group of mages based in Daralis. She was sure none of them would like that.
By the time she was finished, Kestrel had lost interest. Sterling suspected Kestrel had been hoping she would say she wanted to go to Nyrene—which she did—but Sterling knew she would never convince Seraiah. Not yet, at least.
First she would try for the capital, and then she could try for Nyrene.
She needed to speak with Ren about the voices, and why she couldn’t seem to summon her magic. He might know if the mages had secretly done something to her.
As though summoned, the voices slithered through her head. You mussst take back what belongsss to you, they whispered. Forget them. They do not matter.
Sterling rubbed the bridge of her nose. She would not forget them as the voices demanded. This was her family. She needed them. Although sometimes . . .
“I agree,” Seraiah said. “I think we should leave Ratha.” She was touching the mark on her neck again. “Daralis might be a good place for us to learn about what happened here.”
Sterling blinked. “You’re sure?”
Her sister nodded.
Sterling was at a loss for words. She’d expected Seraiah to be the most resistant to leaving—not the first to agree. Most days she wandered around like a ghost, seeming content to haunt the city forever.
“I have no objections,” Kestrel said, pushing away from the table. “Just let me know when.”
“What do you think?” Seraiah asked Kai.
He hadn’t said a word the entire time.
“I think,” he said slowly. “It is a decision best left up to the two of you. This is your world. If you think this is the best place for us, then I will not object.”
Sterling watched him while he spoke. She may not have known him long, but she didn’t get the impression he believed his own words.
“That settles it then,” Seraiah said. “When would you like to leave?”
“I—” Sterling floundered. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d expected them to fight her and for the argument to go on for weeks before she could wear them down.
Now, the voices whispered. Take back what is yoursss.
“What about tomorrow?”
Seraiah nodded, looking thoughtful. “Tomorrow,” she agreed. “If you’ll excuse me, I have something I need to do before then.”
Sterling watched Seraiah, expecting her to head upstairs to her room, but instead, she moved to the front entrance of the inn.
“Where are you going?” she called. She suspected she already knew the answer.
“I’m going home.”