Page 7 of Once the Skies Fade

Connor pointed lazily to a torn envelope on the side of his desk, explaining, “It’s not from Calla, but I don’t fault her for not writing herself. I can’t imagine…” He let the thought trail off and then blinked several times before recovering, explaining, “General Marlowe wrote for her.”

General Isa Marlowe.

Solid warrior. Respectable female. While she hadn’t been as much help with tracking down the rebels as I’d hoped, she’d been more than cooperative and understanding with my requests.

Her note was brief but warm, formal but caring, and held as little information as Connor had indicated. Their healers hadfound no conclusive cause of death, yet they seemed hesitant to classify it as a murder.

As I tucked the paper back into the envelope, I peered at my friend cautiously. “What do you think?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “With the remaining rebels unaccounted for, we can’t assume they didn’t have some hand in this.”

“Agreed. But what can we do about that?”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “No luck on this last trip?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Some, but not as much as I would like.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Well, after months on the road, I’d prefer to have an actual rebel or two in custody. It’s been a long year with little more than shit to show for it. Tanner asked why we keep searching when it’s clear the humans have all left.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“The truth—this is the job.”

“You didn’t think to explain beyond that?”

“To be honest, I’m beginning to question the reasons myself.” Connor pinched the bridge of his nose, but I continued regardless. “I understand the desire for peace and for the humans to return, but maybe we need to accept their decision not to.”

“And the rebels? Do you think it’s foolish to keep hunting for them?”

“That’s a more complicated matter, which is why I haven’t argued against it. Oh, I almost forgot.” I paused to reach into my pocket and handed him the letter I’d taken from Mr. Marstens. He raised a brow in question. “It’s for Lieke.”

His eyes dropped briefly to the paper suspiciously. “From?”

“Raven. Or so I’m told. I didn’t read it.”

“Who’d you get it from?” Confusion swirled in my friend’s features as he appeared to be trying to answer his own question. I might have laughed had the circumstances—his brother, the rebels, everything—not been so dire.

“Tavern owner in Engle.”

Connor’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped to one side. “Tell me you didn’t hurt Marstens.”

The corners of my mouth fell as I peered up at the ceiling for a moment before finally replying, “Fine. I didn’t hurt Marstens.”

I had barely gotten the demi-fae’s name out of my mouth before Connor threw the paper onto his desk and growled. “Seriously?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, I explained, “He lied to me.” Connor pressed his fingers to his forehead like a parent exasperated by their child. “You’ve never taken issue with my methods be?—”

“He’s Lieke’s family!” Connor barked, but recovered quickly, adding, “Or as close to family as she has left.”

“Some family, to hold on to that letter for so long,” I noted, but Connor’s glower only deepened. “He shouldn’t have lied to me. Claimed he didn’t know where the humans had gone.”

“And did he know?”

I pointed to the paper on his desk. “Produced that note and said the last of them had all fled Emeryn months back. Raven left that with him a fortnight ago. He believes she left by way of Holsham.”

Slowly Connor opened Raven’s note, and I didn’t bother to question whether that was entirely proper. Mates shared emotions and dreams. No doubt they didn’t mind sharing their private correspondence.

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