Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(53)
Author: Alexandra Bracken

 

Somehow, I’d crossed the distance between us. Somehow, I was taking his hand, turning it over to see where the scars continued over the tendons and muscles of his forearm.

 

“What the hell is going on? Did those things—” No, it couldn’t have been the Children of the Night. I would have seen it happen. “Did Madrigal do that to you?”

 

He ripped his hand free, but he hadn’t turned fast enough to hide the agonized shame that spilled over his features.

 

“Emrys!” He stopped a few steps above me but didn’t turn. “What happened?”

 

His hands curled at his side. “Do you care?”

 

I couldn’t tell which of us was more surprised when I shouted, “Yes!”

 

We stood there staring at one another, breathing hard. The walk had winded me, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness that welled in my chest at how pale his face had gone.

 

“What happened?” I whispered.

 

His throat worked hard as he swallowed. “I made a mistake. There—are you happy? It turns out I’m as big an idiot as you’ve always thought.”

 

“This happened on a job?” I asked. “It wasn’t Madrigal?”

 

“It had nothing to do with her,” he said. “And it has even less to do with you.”

 

He left me standing at the bottom of the steps, his footfalls creating a thundering echo in my skull. It wasn’t the exhaustion that kept me there, staring at the place he’d been, but the shock that still had me by the throat.

 

There were any number of curses that could shred a mortal to pieces, flay the skin from their muscle and bone. All agonizing.

 

None survivable.

 

A new question seemed to arise with every step I climbed. How long had he had these scars?

 

I half expected to see him in the courtyard, and again at the entrance to the tower, but the only person waiting for me there was a stone-faced Caitriona.

 

I froze.

 

“Look, I just forgot this—” I began, for once not having to think of an excuse.

 

“I’ve spoken to my sisters,” she interrupted me. Even in the light of the torch she held, her face was inscrutable. “And it’s been agreed that I’ll take you to see your father tomorrow.”

 

I stared at her, heart thrumming wildly in my chest. “Really?”

 

He’s alive. The words seemed to take flight in my chest. Somehow, impossibly, Nash, like the most tenacious of rats, had survived sorceresses, debtors, and a growling wilderness of monsters.

 

“Indeed,” Caitriona said, turning sharply on her heel to head back into the tower. “Rest while you can. We leave at daybreak.”

 

 

 

 

 

“This is daylight?”

 

Cabell’s smile was grim as he leaned against the simple fence that bordered the courtyard’s training space. “Sure it is. It’s gone from pitch black to bleak gray.”

 

“So glad you can still find an ounce of humor to squeeze out of this,” I grumbled.

 

He pulled away, feigning fear. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you used the last of your coffee packets at Tintagel?”

 

The mere mention of instant coffee was enough to darken my mood. I had a cracking headache from going so long without my sludgy elixir of life.

 

“Good thing you have the best brother in all the many lands,” he said, reaching into his satchel for a small thermos.

 

My eyes widened as I snatched it from him and unscrewed the top. The smell of bitter, chemical coffee rose with a wisp of steam, greeting me like an old friend. I looked at him again.

 

“I actually think I might cry,” I said, hugging the container to me.

 

“I made nice with the elfin cook, Dilwyn, and got some hot water,” Cabell said. “It turns out not even the Fair Folk can resist one of my winning smiles.”

 

“Are you sure she didn’t just give it to you so you’d go away?” I asked, taking a sip of the sweet, sweet sludge.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said.

 

Feeling unusually sentimental, I added, “You are the best brother, you know.”

 

“Nah, I’m just trying to free my sister from whatever demon possesses her precoffee,” he said. “And anyway, it’s not like you had much of a choice on the brother front.”

 

“Fate did right by us,” I said. “Just that once.”

 

Cabell hummed in thought. “Fate, or Nash?”

 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” I asked, changing the subject. “I think I managed an hour at most.”

 

“Lucky,” he said. “I got maybe ten minutes, thanks to the sweet lullaby of screeching.”

 

I was used to sleeping in strange places, drifting off as soon as my head touched a soft surface, whether it was my hands, a pillow, or a bundled-up shirt. Yet every time I’d closed my eyes last night, my memory had turned traitor. It flashed between the monsters in the woods, the life draining from Septimus’s face, Emrys’s scars, and Caitriona’s words. I’ll take you to see your father.

 

I hugged my arms around my middle, trapping some warmth beneath my flannel jacket. I drew in a deep breath of the foul air, made worse by the pungent smell of excrement and animal sweat wafting from the stables a stone’s throw to our left.

 

A short distance away, Deri had scaled the Mother tree, packing what looked to be woody abscesses with straw and moss. The hamadryad was joined by dozens of tiny green figures, who were cleaning rot from the tree’s body and stripping dried pieces of bark off to eat. The sprites were no bigger than my hand and had bodies like twigs and heads like pale green rosebuds. Their wings were translucent and glimmering, almost like a dragonfly’s.

 

Behind us, Betrys and one of the other Nine, Arianwen, were moving through sword drills under the watchful eye of Bedivere. The clatter of their wooden practice weapons punctuated the quiet of the morning, chased by a grunt or “Ha!” of effort.

 

“That’s it,” Bedivere said, “lean into it—yes, Ari, that’s it.”

 

Arianwen had cropped her brown hair close to her scalp, which only served to emphasize the loveliness of her face. She moved with a fluidity I envied, her full figure unimpeded by the leather practice armor as she swung her arm up and down, arcing the blade slowly, then quick-quick, tap-tap.