Ren stared at the spot where Seraiah’s message had appeared, waiting for her to continue.

  Nothing moved. No more letters appeared scratched in the dirt.

  “Seraiah? Are you still there?”

  His horse snorted and shifted impatiently.

  Still, the message remained unchanged. As single yes followed by two letters: c and a.

  “I don’t think she’s here anymore,” Virelai said. “If she ever was.”

  “You saw the writing.” He jerked his chin at the half-finished message.

  “I did, but that doesn’t mean it was her. It could have been anyone. It could have been the Winter Queen trying to trick us. We need to be more careful.”

  Ren frowned. He was almost positive it had been Seraiah, but Virelai’s words brought a little prickling of doubt. Perhaps he had spilled their most important secret into the wrong hands. Then again, the Winter Queen likely already knew of the spell and could even be close to getting her hands on it now. If it had been her, all he had done was make her aware that they also knew.

  “That’s awfully pessimistic,” he said finally, turning away from the writing in the dirt.

  “Someone needs to think about these things. We can’t be too careful. Power is something everyone wants and would kill to get their hands on. I can think of nothing more powerful than this spell, can you? The more people who know about it, the more trouble we are going to have finding it.”

  And it was already an impossible task.

  Virelai sighed. “What’s done is done. Can we set up camp, or are we going to stand around the rest of the night?”

  “Sure. I guess this place is as good as any.”

  It didn’t take them long to care for their horses and set up a sleeping area. They didn’t have true bedrolls, but at least they each had a blanket stolen from the Seelie Court and their packs could double as pillows.

  It was very quiet without the sound of a crackling fire, but they didn’t dare light one with a sea of dried grass all around them. Lucky for them, there was plenty of moonlight to see by.

  Ren turned his back to Virelai and shucked off his shirt. He dug around in his pack until he found the spare and was about to pull it on when he felt the barest brush of something against his skin.

  He hadn’t heard her come up behind him. She’d been distracted by setting up her own sleeping arrangements—or so he’d thought.

  “Who did this to you?” she asked softly. Her touch was even softer as her fingers skated over the marred skin of his back.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Ren stiffened, and her touch vanished.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I shouldn’t have—” she stumbled over her words.

  He quickly tugged on his shirt, covering up the scars. “It’s fine,” he said.

  “I don’t think it is,” she said. “Someone did that to you, and it is not fine.” A strong breeze punctuated her words.

  “If we are lucky, you won’t be meeting them,” he said. There was a high chance the mages they’d come across in the capital would be the very same ones who had put those marks on his skin.

  “You mean if they are lucky,” Virelai said, sitting down on her blankets.

  Ren hoped that was the end of the conversation. He settled himself back on his own blanket, propping his head on his pack to stare at the sky.

  “Tell me about these friends of yours we are meeting,” Virelai said after several long minutes of silence.

  He turned his head to watch her finger-comb her wind-blown hair and loosely braid it back from her face.

  “Ren?” she prompted when he didn’t answer. “I know you aren’t sleeping. I can see your eyes are open.”

  He sighed. “You’ve already figured out they aren’t exactly my friends.”

  She nodded and gestured for him to go on.

  “They are fellow mages from the group I was raised in. It is entirely possible that those who remain in Daralis are mages I’ve never met.”

  “If you’ve never met them, then why would you think they would help us?” She rearranged her pack and lay down, mimicking his position.

  “Because of this.” He tapped the spot on his chest where the tattoo marking him as one of the mages was hidden.

  “Is it another scar?” she asked.

  “Not quite. It’s a tattoo. You can think of it like a secret code word. All mages that belong to the group have one.”

  “And how did you end up in this group?” she asked.

  “It’s not a pleasant story.”

  One I don’t particularly like telling either.

  “It never is,” she said and left it at that.

  Maybe it was because she didn’t push that he started talking, the whole sordid tale spilling from his mouth. Every bit, from killing his sister to ending up with the shadows on his hands, came pouring out.

  When he looked over at her, he couldn’t quite gauge her reaction, but then again, she had never been easy to read.

  “Funny the things your own family can inflict on you,” she said without an ounce of pity.

  Then she told him a story of her own.

  He’d already known she was like him even if he hadn’t known all the details. She understood what it was like to be shaped into something you never wanted.

  “I don’t typically talk about this, but Wisteria made me see that sometimes it helps,” Virelai said.

  Ren smiled at the sky. “Sounds like Wisteria. She does love to talk.”

  “She would make a good queen,” Virelai said so quietly he wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “She has a good heart.”

  “I don’t know. I think it would break her,” he said. “A good heart isn’t the only thing a ruler needs.”

  “Who would you choose then?”

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “But if it did,” Virelai pressed, “who would you choose?”

  “Still. It's not my place. I’m not one of you. I’m a despised human, remember? Not that the humans are welcoming to my type either,” he added.

  Virelai flicked a hand at him. “That could be changed.”

  “Are you saying you’re warming up to me?” he teased her.

  “I’m saying that I think the elves could be more welcoming to others. There is no reason to hide away from everyone else.”

  “Would you open the portals?” Ren asked. “Or do you mean among those who already live here?”

  He’d always wondered what would happen if humans were allowed to pass freely between worlds. Would the fear of magic grow, or would they learn to live with it and appreciate it?

  “Both,” she said. “We could do both. I don’t see why the portals couldn’t be open, and those who wish to cross could do so at their own risk.”

  “They’d need a warning about keeping away from the faeries,” he said.

  She snorted. “I think that might only make them more curious. They’d have to learn the hard way like the rest of us.”

  Quiet settled in around them. Nearby, a horse stamped its hoof.

  “Goodnight, Ren,” Virelai whispered.

  “Goodnight, Virelai.”

  She rolled away from him, and it wasn’t long before he heard the soft sound of her breathing. The comforting sound of it lulled him into his own dreamless sleep.