Page 160 of Lana Pecherczyk
“They’re showing their gratitude,” she replied. “Fledglings are sacred in our community. Fae don’t conceive as often as humans. Protecting their innocence is one of our most honored values.” She collected the bolt of fabric and dropped it into Blake’s arms. “Of course,” she added wryly, “after their Blooding Ceremony, they’re on their own.”
After the parents retreated to their stalls, a few fledglings remained poking feathers and trinkets into Blake’s hair before Lark shooed them away. Hushed mutters of bravery and blessings occasionally carried on the wind as word traveled.
“Where’s River?” Lark asked, scanning the marketplace. “He shouldn’t have left you alone after a reading.”
“The book.” Reality crashed back. “I accidentally left Aeron’s anatomy book with the Donna. River went back for it.”
“Then we should go find him.” Lark looped her arm through Blake’s. “The Donna’s readings leave impressions. What did you see?”
Blake’s throat tightened. The vivid image of her father standing beneath the eucalyptus tree returned full force.
“I saw me dad,” she whispered. “He said … I just miss him.”
Lark’s expression softened with understanding. “Come on. Let’s get you back to my idiot brother before he tears apart the Donna’s caravan.”
They retraced Blake’s steps through the marketplace, the crowd parting before Lark’s authoritative limping stride and cane. Blake’s head cleared with each step, but her shoulder blades cramped—a persistent, shifting weight that refused to settle. The sooner she could put down the load of gifts, the better.
They didn’t need to search far. River charged through the crowd, parting bodies with his glare alone. Ash followed in his wake, no book in sight.
River’s eyes locked on Blake, his relief flooding their bond. He was with her in two quick strides, shouldering his sister aside, cupping Blake’s face.
“Where have you been?”
Lark’s cane cracked against his shoulder. “You left her with that toxic shit on her lips! What were you thinking?”
River ducked another swing. When Lark attempted a third strike, his patience snapped. He thrust his palm toward his sister, and a gust of air knocked her backward.
He returned to Blake, gathering her against his chest, squashing the armload of gifts.
“You scared me,” he murmured into her hair. Fear pulsed raw and unfiltered through their connection. The intensity reminded her of his reaction in Cloud’s trove, that edge of madness when he spoke of losing her.
Lark dusted her windways, scowling. “You’re lucky I found her. Another minute and they’d have fed her to the fledglings.”
River eased back, gaze dropping to her armload as if seeing it for the first time. “What’s this?”
“Um.” She bit her lower lip. “They kinda…”
“Thanked her,” Lark finished. “You know, for saving the Corvus’s son’s life.”
“Anyone would have done it,” Blake muttered.
“No, they wouldn’t,” Ash countered matter-of-factly.
River relieved Blake of the heaviest items, a warm smile stretching his lips when he looked at her. “Crows don’t swim, remember?”
“Yeah, but you killed the kelpie.”
“I’m a Guardian.” He said it like it meant nothing, and plucked a decorative feather from her hair. “What’s all this?”
“The little ones couldn’t stop touching me.”
River stepped back for a better vantage. His eyes moved over her with reverence. “Theylettheir fledglings touch you.”
“Trust me, sis.” Lark touched Blake’s shoulder. “What you did went above and beyond the call of duty. The Well might have blessed your union with this mouse-brain, but what you did made you one of us.”
River waved a young shifter over, paid him some coin, and instructed him to take Blake’s armload of gifts to the Umbria roost. Once he was gone, he slung his arm around Blake’s shoulders and asked Lark, “Why aren’t you at the roost, anyway?”
“Oh, you know.” Her gaze drifted toward a distant row of caravans. “Things aren’t exactly peaceful there. The Cardonas settled nearby, and…”
