Page 52 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

Another silence fell, one rife with dread and unspoken questions, until Talan cleared his throat.

“There’s one more thing,” he said, rubbing Gemma’s fingersabsently with his thumb. “When you travel as much as I’ve been traveling, when you stop in inns and taverns and sleep on the streets and beg beds from farmers for the night, when you wear a different forgettable face in each town, you hear all sorts of things. Rumors and stories and gossip, most of it nonsense. Tall tales, legends conjured over one too many drinks. But I’ve made note of things that seem interesting—strange words, or unfamiliar ones. Patterns in different versions of the same story. And there’s a particular story that’s been growing legs in Gallinor in the weeks since I’ve been gone. I’ve caught snippets of it everywhere, from the high streets in Summer’s Amble to the humblest seaside villages on the eastern coast.”

He drew a breath, lowered his voice. “The word I keep hearing isMoonhollow. The story around it is one of a palace surrounded by beautiful gardens, where wine runs through the streets like nectar and the food gives you such vitality that you don’t need to sleep. There, you can dance and never grow tired. There, the sun never shines, and the flowers drink only moonlight.”

Ryder grunted, waved his hand once in dismissal. “Nonsense tales spun from random pieces of Olden lore, translated by people who don’t know what they’re talking about. Tales to distract imaginative children and breed lurid fantasies in the minds of bored men. And with everything that’s happened, it’s no wonder that people are turning to such stories.”

“Ordinarily I’d agree with you,” Talan said, “but in all my years wandering this world bound to Kilraith’s service, I’d never heard this particular tale of this particular place—Moonhollow. And now that we’ve fought Kilraith and sent him limping off to gods know where…” Talan trailed off.

Gemma finished for him. “Now you’re hearing of it everywhere.”

“Not everywhere. Not yet. But I’m hearing of it enough to feel uneasy.”

I picked at my thumbnail, my mind whirling. “And in Vauzanne and Aidurra? You’ve heard stories of Moonhollow there too?”

Talan shook his head. “That’s the interesting thing. No, I haven’t. It’s only here, in Gallinor.”

“And here in Gallinor stands a forest surrounded by magic that you, a demon, can’t penetrate.”

“That is no coincidence,” Ryder declared.

“No,” Gemma agreed, “nor is it a coincidence that Gallinor is wherewelive—Farrin, Mara, and I.”

The same thought had occurred to me, but it was too frightening to contemplate. I refused it. I rejected it. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Oh, and now we’ll start talking aboutfae blood, will we?”

Gemma was defiant. “I’m keeping my mind open to all possibilities. You might try it sometime.”

“We must go to the queen,” Ryder said, before I could respond. “Tomorrow. You’ll tell her everything you’ve observed, demon, and we’ll see how she responds. What she knows, what she doesn’t.” He paused, noticing Gemma’s pointed glare. “Talan,” he corrected grudgingly.

Gemma nodded. “And we’ll assess her health, see for ourselves how she has changed—or how she hasn’t—since we were last at the palace.”

“You meanI’llassess her health,” I grumbled. That I was responding to fear and uncertainty with childish petulance didn’t paint me in a favorable light, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “You meanI’llspy on my friend and report my observations to you.”

“More than your friend, she’s the queen,” Ryder said bluntly. “And more than her friend, you’re an Anointed magician tasked by the gods with protecting your country.”

“If the gods really wanted to protect us all so badly, they should’ve done it themselves,” I snapped. “Or done a better job of sealing us offfrom the Old Country. We’re not gods. It isn’t fair for us to be tasked with such a thing.”

Ryder regarded me with wry amusement. “I didn’t hear you complaining about your Anointed duties during peacetime, Ashbourne, nor do I hear you bemoaning the wealth and status afforded to your family.”

I rose swiftly, hot with shame. “That was uncalled for.”

“As is your fear,” he shot back. “You’re allowed to be frightened, but you’re not allowed to be a coward. You’re better than that.”

Unnerved by his sudden meanness, so starkly different from the gentleness with which he’d crooned to Jet only hours before, I took two angry steps toward him. “How dare you call me a coward when you’re the one who played that awful, craven trick on my father, when you beat him and humiliated him in front of hundreds of people?”

Ryder let out a disappointed hiss. “I’ve apologized for that, Farrin, and I won’t do it again. We were at war. Now we’re not. And how dareyoubalk at doing what must be done when your sisters are alive and well, and mine’s quite possibly dead somewhere, choking on Mist or gutted by a monster we hardly understand? A monster we only barely managed to defeatonceand may not be able to beat again?”

I was stunned. There was no other word for it. I felt as if he’d punched me, and worst of all, I couldn’t blame him for it. He was right, and looking up at him—his blue eyes hard with anger and grief—I felt sick with self-loathing. They kept talking around me—Ryder and Gemma and Talan—discussing how best to travel to the palace and how we would pay a visit to Gareth at the university beforehand, but I hardly heard them, too furious with myself to pay much attention.

Ryder striding out of the room was the thing that pulled me out of my shock. I’d heard enough to understand that our meeting was over; we would leave for Fairhaven at dawn.

I hurried out of the room and caught up with him at the end ofthe corridor, where a pretty vine-draped atrium looked out over the entrance hall below. Afternoon sunlight poured through the tall windows, bathing everything in white and gold.

“Ryder, wait,” I said desperately, and he did, stopping at the top of the stairs. I didn’t think; I rushed over to him and touched his arm, which at the moment felt like a privilege I didn’t deserve. I held on to my courage with both hands. I had to make him understand.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I stared at his jacket, the silver buttons at his collar. “You’re right. I am afraid. But that’s no excuse, and you’re so worried for Alastrina, and…I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry. Please believe me.”

He took a step toward me, lifted my chin so I had to meet his eyes. “I do believe you,” he said quietly. “And thank you. AndI’msorry for getting angry.”

---