Page 37 of Lana Pecherczyk
The scrutiny sparked irritation in Blake’s chest. Why did everyone look at her that way, like she was both a punchline and a puzzle?
“Why do you want an old book, Ada?” Trix asked, kneading her swollen belly in slow circles.
“I had an idea when River told me about the Shadow Market.” Ada’s eyes brightened, her hands gesturing with renewed energy. “What if there’s an anatomical medical textbook there? When I heal, I feel my way around the injury using mana. If there’s no wound, I have nothing to heal. But maybe if I know what Aeron’s eardrum is supposed to look like, I could?—”
“Oh, I see,” Blake interjected. “It’s like when I run me fingers over cracks in old furniture. You’re not just fixing, you’re finding the original pattern underneath.”
Ada nodded, a flash of appreciation crossing her features. “Exactly.”
“You said you can’t heal what’s not there,” River interrupted, his narrowed gaze fixed on Ash, who continued staring at Blake with a knowing glint.
His scrutiny crawled across her skin. She pulled the blanket higher, covering her braless chest, though he wasn’t even looking there. His assessment felt deeper than physical, as if he could peel back layers of her soul, exposing everything she’d tried to bury.
“But maybe it is there and…” Ada snapped her fingers, looking to Blake for the right words.
“And you don’t know what you’re looking for until you feel it. Right?”
“Exactly!” Ada pressed on. “This is our last chance to give Aeron the gift of sound before his baby is born.”
Guilt flashed across River’s face. It was so brief, Blake might have missed it.
“Many books and items from the old world will be traded at the Shadow Market,” he admitted. “But we won’t have time to locate what you need. Securing the cryptex is the Order’s priority.”
Something sharp sliced through his emotional block. orry? Fear? His gaze flicked to Blake before darting away, his shoulders rigid beneath his jacket.
“I’ll go with you,” Trix volunteered, hope widening her eyes. “I’ll know what to look for.”
“Trix,” Ada warned. “You can barely walk with that belly. You’re having Braxton-Hicks contractions and are due in two weeks. Anything can trigger labor. I’ll go.”
River scoffed. “As if either of your mates will let you leave their sight. It won’t matter anyway. To crows, you’re both outsiders. You won’t be allowed within a mile of the gathering.”
“What about me?” The words left Blake’s mouth before she could stop them. But once spoken, they felt right, a step toward doing something worthwhile in this foreign world.
“No,” he grunted, the reflex immediate.
“It could work,” Ash mused, thumb tracing his jaw. “She’s your Well-blessed mate.”
“Precisely why she should remain here,” River countered. “Bartering there is not like here. Get the offer wrong, and she’ll be stabbed. This mission is too important for me to waste time babysitting.”
The bitterness in his voice bounced off Ash without effect, only intensifying the amusement dancing in his eyes.
“What if I don’t need to trade, just browse?” She elaborated when blank stares met her suggestion. “I have a photographic memory. I could look at the books and draw the diagrams later.”
“You can draw?” Shock splashed across River’s face. “Are you any good?”
She bit her lip, suddenly self-conscious under his intense focus. “I’m no master, but I’m okay. I suppose.”
“What’s a foto—” His brow puckered.
“Photographic memory?”
He nodded.
“Um.” Blake frowned. How does one explain a camera and film to someone who’s never seen it?
“I got this,” Trix said, turning to River. “It’s like an instant painting in her head. She’ll remember the specific details long after most people forget.”
River raked fingers through his hair, frustration evident in the rigid line of his shoulders. “You’re still an outsider.”
