Page 55 of A Kingdom of Destruction

The edge of the rune began to dissipate, the coppery dried blood flaking off.

It heartened her enough to keep going, and soon the rest of the rune began to smudge together under the combination of herbs. Enough so that the magic crackled and fizzled out.

The fae let out a long sigh like a death knell, but when Aven glanced back, she saw the edges of the wound starting to draw closed. His blood stopped running, and although the puddle remained beneath him, it didn’t grow any larger.

Relief coursed through her with such strength she dropped back onto her rear, shaking.

After a moment, she shifted forward and gripped his hands in her own, holding him and watching the wound close in wonder. Wondering if she’d changed beyond recognition by helping the enemy she’d sworn to decimate.

“There,” she whispered. “It’s all going to be fine. You’ll be okay.”

It took much too long to realize the heated night air had suddenly turned cold, how chilled her bones had become. She studied the young man’s face. With his eyes closed, he looked almost human, if she ignored the pointed ears and the sharp planes of his cheekbones and jaw. Covered in now hardened blood, she waited until his breathing stabilized before she let go of him to make her way inside and find a healer.

She made her way down the halls away from the throne room, her own insides twisting together. No matter what kind of person she was, she hadn’t been able to leave him there to suffer. It should have warmed her heart to know she still had such a strong level of compassion inside of her, that it hadn’t been ripped out of her with her circumstances. Her head bowed.

Yet the only thought staying in her head was one of worry. What would happen to her now? And why had she been so fixated on saving him?

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The experience sharpened her.

If it hadn’t happened, she might not have noticed the message when it arrived. She would have probably skipped right over the small floating boat made of leaves that drifted down the stream toward her spot in the garden. As though sent there by the magic of the land itself. It blended in with the landscape. Designed that way to avoid notice.

At first, she saw it as a glint from the corner of her vision, like the skip of light over the water. There and gone in a blink. When she turned to face it head-on, the small craft seemed like nothing but the curled leaf of a fallen oak.

A small niggling instinct in the back of her head had her looking twice. Once she noticed the unnatural way the craft zigged closer, her throat went tight. She snapped the book on her lap closed.

The leaf boat skipped against the current of water and counter to the ripples made by the wind in a beeline for her. Her heart lifted, and she threw the book to the side, hurrying to the water’s edge and grabbing at the boat.

Her first swipe got her nothing but a face full of water. The second time she reached for it, the leaf zigged close enough that she knew it had been sent for her. Incredulity zapped the air right out of her lungs, and she stared at the compact leaf resting against her open palm, surprised and confused.

She gripped it between her thumb and forefinger and held it up in front of her face for a long moment before she crushed it to her chest. There were words written between the veins, shimmering like a mirage in desert heat.

“Miss? What’s the matter?”

She jumped because she’d completely forgotten that Nora waited with her in the garden. Her lady’s maid kept her hands busy weaving the frayed edge of a tapestry back together while Aven had been reading a book on fae history.

She shoved the leaf into the pocket of her gown and turned with a wobbly smile, forcing herself to meet Nora’s confused stare.

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, swallowing hard. “I thought I saw something in the water and I wanted to see for myself.”

Her lungs stilled in her chest and her muscles seized as though paralyzed, a bristly sensation spiraling down her spine.

“Are you trying to catch one of the goldfish?” Nora let out a soft laugh. “They’re beautiful, but they are slippery little things, literally and figuratively. They like to be fed, but they do not care for our touch.” She sighed and returned to her stitching. “There was once a time when the animals in this place spoke to us. My mother used to tell me stories about?—”

A thundering in her head made it impossible to follow along with the story. Aven’s attention lay firmly with the note in her pocket.That’swhat it was. She knew without a shadow of a doubt.

Somehow, her people had managed to get a message to her.

There was no way she’d be able to read it now.

The leaf note burned a hole in her gown through the rest of their afternoon in the garden. Although she pretended to read, Aven kept sneaking looks at the stream, waiting for something else to find its way here to her. The lines of text on the page blurred together into a twisted mess of black and white.

Her people worked magic all the time.

Now, they’d managed to work a miracle and spell a note to find its way to her.

She’d been too focused on survival, or waiting for another opportunity to run, to even think about getting a message out to her men. If she was ordered to stay with the princes, then she thought she would at least attempt to find a way to adapt to her surroundings.

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