Page 48 of Crown of the Fae King

With the toe of my boot, I patted a brick at the bottom of the wall. “In the dirt, about six inches straight down. Still wrapped in the handkerchief.”

He pulled out a knife, loosened the soil, and pulled it up by the handfuls. He would have had it in a matter of seconds had the ground not frozen again.

He lifted the handkerchief-wrapped stone and shook it at me. “You thought this was a safe place to leave it? A child could have—”

“I didn’t intend to leave it here long,” I lied. Who knows how long I might have been in jail? But thankfully, Wickham dropped the subject and handed Hank to me.

I turned my back and slipped the handkerchief away, then wrapped my hand around it. After a few seconds, the hissing stopped. The silence was bliss.

“Praise God,” Persi said, then closed her eyes. Wickham stared at her until she opened them again. “What?”

“What sets ye apart, Persephone?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what sets ye apart from the rest of us?”

She rolled her eyes and disappeared, the answer to his question.

He shook his head again. “What sets ye apart, lass? Talents aside, what sets ye apart from most other Muirs?”

She reappeared. “I’m aThird.”

“Aye. Ye’re aThird.”

“And I can hear Hank.”

“And ye can hear Hank.” Wickham tucked her shoulder under his arm and turned her back toward home.

Kitchens moved to my left side and offered his elbow for support. He grinned at Urban. “Everly’s goin’ to be radge ye left without her.” I assumed that meant angry. Or worse.

Urban chuckled. “Ileft without her? Nay, mon.Weleft without her.”

Kitch’s smile disappeared.

20

Meet Hank

At the end of the alley, we gathered around Wickham and popped back to the house, to the room we jokingly calledEngineering, from Star Trek—whereScottycould beam us up. Technically it should have been the Transporter Room, but we weren’t sure how much the Youngs knew about our comings and goings.

When we popped in, we found Everly sitting in a chair in the corner. She jumped to her feet and took a quick inventory of faces before she relaxed. Once again, Persi explained what had happened, why we’d worried fairies might be drawn to the little garden too. Then she ended with an apology.

All eyes then turned to me, to my hand in my pocket, but I was in pain again and too tired to satisfy their curiosities.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said, then went to bed. Though my pet rock was as silent as any other rock, I imagined it purring and content to be back in my possession. I tossed the well-loved but abused handkerchief into the hamper and fell asleep with Hank tucked into my palm, just inside my soft cast of plaster that cupped the bottom of my arm, with padding on the top, all held in place by stretchy bandages.

The next morning, I felt surprisingly refreshed. No pain, no headache, even though a rare sunny sky glared in through the wide blinds of my windows. I had no idea what time it was when I headed for the dining room, but I hoped there was still something left to eat. I was famished. And my stomach was now used to something more than just mid-morning milk and oatmeal before the lunch rush.

I peeked through the open doors and laughed to myself.

I really shouldn’t have been surprised to find everyone present and accounted for, including Wickham’s sisters. They sat along the near side of the table with their backs to the door, an empty chair between them. Opposite them, Kitch sat in the center with Persi on one side and Everly on the other, their backs to the windows. Urban and Wickham sat at the ends.

The only empty plate waited for me. Everyone else picked at their food as if they’d been dragging their meal out for hours.

The clock chimed ten.

I breezed in like I owned the place, cheerful and bright despite my subdued outfit of black, black, and pale green. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate to wear jewelry to breakfast, but I couldn’t help adding a shiny gold ring on my finger--a celebration of our sunshine.

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