“I should’ve got him before he made it to the town. I could’ve stopped him, but Percy distracted me.”
“Don’t blame yourself. You’ll get him this time. I’m sure. Best thing to do is rest up and wait until dark. You haven’t slept in three days.”
Rumple was right. It was too visible.
I bought a bag of roasted pecans from a vendor and made my way to the center of town. Scanning each of the rooftops for a good perch, I took my time before choosing the loft above the blacksmith’s barn. It had a central location with an open second-story window where I could relax and watch the streets below.
It was the perfect spot to spy. I easily scaled the building’s siding and swung into the loft. Inside there was a long wooden crate that I turned over and used as a bench as I settled in to wait.
One of the hardest jobs of reconnaissance was the boredom that would come with it. You had to learn to occupy your mind for long periods without losing focus on your target and also not let a nature call rob you of your prey.
As I chewed on a warm pecan, I settled Rumple on the floor next to me.
“What’s the story with the elf?” Rumple asked.
“There’s no story,” I said, popping a nut in my mouth.
“There may not be a story now, but there’s history. I can tell.”
“We used to be friends. And now we’re not.”
“Why not?” he pressed.
“Because it’s none of your business,” I said.
“You might as well tell him,” Percy said as he swung onto the window ledge gracefully and landed on the loft floor without a sound. “Because I’m interested to know the reasons for us not being friends as well.”
I refused to answer, chewing on my snack with a vengeance. My eyes narrowed as I focused even harder on the street below, ignoring the handsome elf as he sat on the other half of the already small crate, his thigh pressing close to mine. Immediately, the freezing chill that permeated my body lessened.
Percy gave me a questioning look as he waited for my answer, but I didn’t move or give a hint of a reply. I couldn’t. He wouldn’t understand. It was better this way.
“Are you going to tell me why you left the scouts?” I countered.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Then there’s no need to talk about me.”
“You? Don’t you mean us?”
I shook my head. “Don’t go there. Don’t ever go there.”
The muscle in Percy’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He was angry.
Good. Because so was I.
He was the only person I knew that could get beneath my skin. Called me out whenever I lied. He knew all of my flaws and weaknesses, except for one—and that one I’d take to the grave. I decided to try to clear the tension between us by changing subjects.
“How’s Einan?” I asked, referring to his old captain.
“Still as heroic as ever. He never changes, the old fart.”
I smirked as he used a very human nickname; one he had picked up from me. “You don’t either. Still as annoying as ever.”
Percy didn’t move. Humans were always moving, twitching, blinking. Even when we tried, we could never hold ourselves still. But elves could go for minutes without blinking, and by them not reacting was reacting. I had hit another nerve.
“Do you really think that of me?” he asked. His voice was serious.
“I meant it as a joke,” I said flatly.
Percy gazed out the window, his sea-green eyes making him look almost unearthly beautiful. I studied him out of the corner of my eye; the sculpted jaw, his narrow nose, lips that were thin and perfect. But I could see the tension in the corner of his mouth. He looked forlorn, and I had a feeling I was the one causing his unhappiness. “Honor, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Please, not now,” I begged, fearing that he was going to give me horrible news that would make my world come crumbling down. “It can wait. Let’s just stay in this moment a bit longer.”
He nodded, seeming to understand my pain.
We weren’t always this close. At one point, we hated each other, but not anymore. The same, and yet completely different. The only problem was he was an elf with a duty to fulfill . . . and I was cursed to hurt those closest to me.
I was four when my powers first came into fruition, and I’d almost killed my parents. The neighbor found them both passed out on the wood floor of our home in Denford. I’d been playing on the floor next to their prone bodies as if nothing had happened. Later that week, I’d fallen sick and spent days running a fever so hot it was apparently painful to the touch. Then my breathing had slowed. My temperature dropped so low my parents feared I was dead. Then it would start all over again.
A local hedge witch came to examine me and she recoiled so fast after her first brush with my skin. “Cursed is this child.”
My parents became afraid of me. For it seemed I was the cause of their own maladies. They became gaunt, and all who heard of me became terrified. It wasn’t until a tinker made mention of a woman more powerful than any hedge witch and he suggested she may have a cure. They brought me to Lorelai Eville.
I remembered riding in the back of a flatbed wagon, my parents sitting as far away from me as possible as we rode up to the tower. It was the most magnificent thing I had ever seen. A mini castle out of a storybook. One old guard tower with an addition of a main house and work room. A plume of purple smoke rose out of the chimney, and it shifted into pink then white. A garden full of fresh herbs carefully planted in rows in front of the house were tended by three different breeds of butterflies and even a few hobs. There was a stable with a horse and a donkey grazing peacefully in the field beyond, and clean laundry hung on a line, drying in the summer sun. A shutter opened in the tower, and I saw a redhead and blonde-haired girl peer out at me from the upper floor. They looked to be close to my age.
Lady Eville stepped out of the main house and addressed my parents. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and she wore a deep blue work dress with a black apron.
“What is the problem?” she had said by way of greeting, her eyes picking me out in the back of the wagon.
“Our daughter is a plague. Anyone that goes near her ends up sick. She almost killed our local healer, and look at what she’s done to us.”
“Let me see.” The tall woman drew closer to me. She’d raised a hand, and I saw a touch of gold light gather around the tip of her finger.
“Pretty,” I remembered saying, and I reached for the ball of light.
She’d pulled it away, just out of reach.
“You can see magic?” she had asked.
I nodded and focused on the golden light. It was so beautiful, I wanted it. Then the magic around her flickered out and vanished.
“Interesting. You’ve nullified my magic. I wonder what else you can do.”
I remembered being frustrated that the golden light disappeared, and I wanted it back. So I’d concentrated on making it appear again. Lady Eville had gasped in pain as a string of gold began to pull from within her chest, and it floated out of her and into mine. My chest had glowed as I took the golden string.
“Not so fast, little one.” She’d clenched her hand into a fist and the magic string snapped back into her. “It’s not nice to take things that aren’t yours. Especially magic.”