Page 59 of Fated or Knot

Fal elbowed him. “Greedy.”

“I’m still guilty of it,” the redcap agreed readily. “Give me the little bird.”

Though I felt Marius’s disapproving stare on my back, I carefully transferred her into Tormund’s arms. It’d help keep him calm, to see her safe and mostly whole. The last thing we needed was for him to erupt in a new rage and go kill Cymora before we had a chance to find the key to the silencing band.

Tormund cradled her tenderly, while Fal rested a hand on her calf. Both of them seemed to relax just from touching her. Time to ruin that. “I’ve had a fruitful night in Cymora’s psyche,” I began.

I told them everything I’d seen, inciting dangerous alpha growls and a unifying of murderous thoughts in our pack bond. We had a confirmed enemy and the enthusiastic desire to destroy her through our four unique methods.

There was a softer side to the conversation as our attention turned to our omega. She snoozed on, blissfully unaware of the unspoken tension draining from Marius as he murmured, “She has Unseelie blood.”

I knelt in front of Tormund, holding Lark’s damaged foot in my palms as I worked on finding the magic that rendered the silencing band invisible.

“Not quite the unlikely princess you assumed her to be,” I remarked.

“Unlikelymate,” Marius said. “I thought I would drown her trying to bond with her.”

Fal smirked. “How romantic.”

“I’m still going to kick your ass once we’re off this train, Falindel,” he deadpanned.

The dark elf mimed rubbing a shiver from his arms. “I am absolutelyshakenby your continued postponement of my ass-kicking.”

Marius gave an exasperated sigh. “So our mate doesn’t notice.”

“She’ll see the bruises when she strips me,” he said, propping a fist under his chin.

I rolled my eyes as Tormund exaggerated a groan. I’d found a thread of essence and was working with it. If they’d just quiet down, I could concentrate…

Lark’s magic felt like my own, like calling to like. I’d tried giving her some of my essence earlier to help her recover from her depleted state, but it’d been like pouring water into a cracked cup. If the band drew on much more of her magic, it would kill her, so I only sought to work with the illusion on her ankle to move it aside for a couple of minutes. Seeing was believing, and I wanted to know how this improperly placed device had shifted in a decade.

If it was as bad as I thought it was, I needed professional help. I had to get her to the only other essence spinner I trusted with such a delicate matter.

I worked my finger under the illusion woven as a solid mesh of essence strands, and tugged at it with a few bits of my own starry magic. It was as delicate as a negotiation, and I tuned out my brothers’ continued banter to focus on doing it correctly.

Success smelled like rotten essence. The alphas in the room gagged, as the smell was so much worse for their sensitive noses. Magic left to sit too long had a certain odor, like sulfur mixed with the vilest black mold. It came from the spell masking the silencing band, disturbed when I lifted it.

Either that or from the purplish fluid that oozed in goopy clots like sap from the wounds circling Lark’s ankle and lower calf. The bruise on her leg from Cymora’s kick matched a line of dried blood. She’d managed to hit Lark right over an embedded spike.

The silver metal was tarnished from long use and all the exposure to the sun and bathwater it’d received while Lark was none the wiser to its existence. She had to feel those points jabbing her with every step she took.

I burned with the desire to rip it free, but this was a deeply enmeshedolcanus. It had to remain on her for a few short days. But no longer than that. I couldn’t bear the thought of Lark suffering further.

Since the wounds it caused weren’t quite physical, other than where she’d been kicked, she’d never gotten an infection and lost this foot. Thank the stars for small concessions…I guessed. It also hadn’t shifted much as she grew older, only embedded in her flesh more tightly at the top.

“What thefuck,” Fal said, holding his nose as he leaned over and inspected the band.

I smacked his hand away before he could touch it. “Pulling on it will only hurt her worse,” I warned.

“Why are we even looking at it?” Distress leaked from Tormund into our pack bond. “We have to get that thing off of her!”

“We will. I have a plan,” I said, beginning the process of settling the spell I’d lifted back into place. “For now, we keep Lark as comfortable as we can and steal the band’s key from Cymora while she’s incapacitated.”

“And we cannot discuss the band with Lark,” Marius said, more a statement than a question. He was in an odd mood, guilt weighing on him as he watched the silencing band vanish under a cloak of magic.

“Not if you don’t want to cause her more pain. And if you do…” I took a steadying breath and said succinctly, “Nightmares.”

Marius released a kelpie’s snort. “Noted.”

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