Page 15 of The Midnight Death Match

Seven

The days passin fire and silence. Einar has been training me harder than ever, with blades clashing, bones bruising, and magic pushed until my vision swims. He doesn’t hold back anymore. Not since I showed him the shield. Not since I told him what my mother said in the dream.

He’s convinced it’s all related and she’s sending a clear message. Clear as mud, if you ask me. A full week of trying to find answers hasn’t yielded anything useful.

“Unused power is power wasted,” he says between slams of our hunter swords. “If you don’t shape it, someone else will.”

Words like those feel like they’re meant for more than combat. Sometimes he seems to speak as mysteriously as my mother in my dreams.

In the evenings, I pore over old hunter texts in my father’s library. The collection was gathered by our ancestors, going back for centuries. During the days, between exhausting training sessions, Harek and I often go to the city library in search of answers there. At times, it feels like searching for a single dust mote in an abandoned building.

Every so often, we run into Vivvi in town. She always offers us warm greetings and says we’re more than welcome to stay with her anytime we need a break from Einar.

My father’s face always scrunches at the mention of her. There’s some kind of past there, but neither will speak of it.

Fae have grown accustomed to seeing us around town, and people often stop to speak with us, though there are some who keep their distance and stare with suspicion. Werewolves are typically seen as lower class fae, but nobody dares say anything to Harek when he’s living with two hunters.

Everyone is so focused on me being the first huntress that not one person has picked up on me being part werewolf. But fae gossip is the least of my concerns.

Something is coming. I feel it in my bones, in the shift of the wind, and in the quiet way Harek watches me when he thinks I’m not looking. He can feel it too, though we don’t openly speak about it. We don’t have to. We communicate more with the twitch of an eyebrow than most people could communicate with a thousand words.

Even the dragons are restless. Vash prowls the cliffs more than usual, and Sapphire huffs constant smoke in her sleep.

I haven’t returned to Skoro to check on my siblings. Not yet, though I don’t want to keep putting it off. Even though I spoke with Brynja and Runa, I want to talk with the others myself. It’s going to be challenging getting to all nine of them without being seen by Gunnar or any of his cronies.

However, I can’t wait much longer. Perhaps I’ll give it some more time to let things cool down. To letLeifcool down. He’s the one I most need to speak to. He’s also the one I’m least looking forward to dealing with, but there’s no avoiding it.

The longer I wait, the worse the unease grows. I can hardly sit still after my last training session of the day. Einar and Sapphireflew off so my father could take care of some evil he heard about in a town that would take a week to get to on horseback.

Harek watches me pace from behind a book. He sets it on his lap and cocks a brow. “Having fun?”

I glare at him.

“I was only trying to lighten the mood. Want to go into the woods? Maybe we’ll find that unicorn family again. That always calms your nerves.”

My muscles relax slightly at the mention of the unicorns. There’s something about their magic that helps ground me, even when I’m on edge.

Once we get outside Mirendel’s city gates, something large and black catches my attention.

“What’s Vash doing here?” Harek asks.

“Protecting us.” Whether it’s from actual danger or my frayed nerves is up for debate.

He stays on our tail as we weave our way in and out of the trees. The unicorns aren’t at the rainbow lake where they were the last time we saw them. Chances are, they sensed Vash long before we neared.

The woods are thick with dusk when we stop moving. The sky above us bleeds orange and blue.

Harek leans against a tree, arms crossed, watching the shadows shift between branches. “We’re due for a storm.”

“You feel it too?”

He nods. “In the air. In you.”

“Me?”

“I can’t explain it.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The woods hum with insects, singing birds, and the rustle of leaves. Harek’s silence is comforting.

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