Page 72 of Of Sword & Silver

“That’s the prophecy,” Lara tells her. “We weren’t sure if we should tell you about it, but it seems like Kyrie thinks she knows best, as always.”

The words land like a blow on the part of my soul the Sword’s already rubbed raw.

Lara’s eyes narrow at my response… or lack thereof.

“Is this why you were trying to secure my services to accompany her?” Caedia asks, her lilting voice sharp as thorns. “You needed another body for your prophecy and you thought, sure, the half human?—”

“You are the one we need,” I interrupt. “I don’t know how I know that, but I do. I can feel it.”

Caedia makes a scoffing noise.

I huff. “Please. You were just telling me that you blew on the winds of fate. This is the wind blowing you.” I gesture between the three of us with my good hand.

I don’t even make a joke about being blown by fate, which shows exactly how serious I am.

“There was a manticore here,” I continue, undeterred by the pinched look on her green-tinted face. “It stung me. You were here to heal me. How often does that sort of coincidence happen? This is fate.”

I can feel the truth in the words, the power in them, similar to Sola’s magic of lies—but there is no godly magic here. Only the truth.

The dryad’s expression turns wide-eyed, her nostrils flaring as she inhales. “I expect to be paid,” she says slowly.

“We can arrange that,” the Sword says from the door, where I hadn’t even noticed him.

Now, though, noticing him makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with the manticore’s poison or the curse.

I’m really having a bad month.

The Sword is watching me. I don’t look at him, keeping my focus on Caedia, but I can feel his gaze hot on my skin.

“We leave after breakfast,” I say quickly, needing to fill the silence, to push everyone towards what’s next instead of what’s just happened.

I don’t want to think about what’s just happened.

Ever since my family died, thinking about the past only leads to heartache in the present.

“You aren’t ready to be on horseback,” Caedia finally replies, skewering me with a look.

“Good thing the Sword is paying you handsomely to come along, then,” I say smoothly.

He grunts from the doorway and I ignore the way saying his stupid name hurt, too.

“Ten days,” I murmur to myself, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

Lara’s there in a flash, thankfully, because damn it, they’re right, I’m unsteady and off balance. A brush lies on the nightstand, strands of red hair running through it.

Confused, I put a hand to my head and sure enough, my hair is smooth, not knotted or tangled like it would be if I’d been sick on my own.

“Thanks,” I tell Lara.

“I wasn’t going to let you fall, you ass,” she says, laughing and squeezing my waist. “I’m glad to see you awake. You scared the shit out of all of us.”

“I meant for brushing my hair,” I explain, pointing to the hairbrush. “You know what a pain in the ass it is to get knots out.”

“I didn’t brush your hair,” she says gently, a soft, sad smile on her face.

I glance behind me at Caedia, who’s gathering medicinal supplies from the table next to the bed.

It’s a lot of supplies.

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