Page 52 of Unraveled
“I come from a small town of mostly humans and had never seen the fae before. I’d heard of them, of course, but usually they didn’t go east of Hedrum.” He shrugs. “I was naive, a fool who didn’t understand the rules of the blood moon. When word came to town that the Hunt was possibly riding through, I thought it would be great to linger in the market and see if I could improve my magical skills.”
“How would being outside during the Hunt improve your skills?” I study his face and find he doesn’t seem angry about my questions, nor resentful when thinking back to that time.
“The fae ride alongside ancient spirits.” Finley gestures widely at Naheli, who seems more interested in a lunargyre who’s been encroaching on our space. This one is made of stone and stained with mold and moss. A male fae, with impressive wings frozen wide open.
Perhaps I should be worried, but somehow I feel, maybe foolishly, that Naheli wouldn’t let me get hurt.
“And you searched for the Hunt because you wanted to see a spirit?” I guess I can’t blame him. A part of me is drawn to the idea as well.
Naheli huffs, as if reading my thoughts and finding them idiotic.
“No, I wanted power, Mia.” Finley smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sometimes the spirits lose fragments of their magic, and if a sorcerer were to catch it—well, I can only imagine the kind of power they could gain.”
My eyes widen as I stare at him, not knowing what I expected to hear. I guess him admitting he got caught by the Hunt because he was ambitious wasn’t it. I don’t know what to say to that, so instead I ask something else. “Was it Ash, or Nera?”
Finley laughs. “Nera hasn’t taken part in the Hunt yet. She’s young for a fae.”
“And how old are you?”
“You don’t hold back, do you?” The tightness in his jaw tells me he’s ready to move on from this conversation.
I stare at Finley’s irises and the striations of gold that radiate from his pupils. Muted yellow tones, similar to Ash’s. Before, I thought they were amber, but they’re actually light brown, with gold streaks. “Your eyes...”
“It’s one of the marks that ties me to the king. When a human stares into a fae’s eyes, ours change color to match theirs. It’s a branding of sorts, and it dates back centuries. It signals the bond, and it used to be a great source of pride.”
“Who could be proud of that?”
“Me?” He sounds defensive, and pink tints his cheeks. “It comes with perks. Being tied to a high fae gives us humans an unusually long life, which was particularly enticing in a time when we died young from sickness and war. For a sorcerer like myself, it’s meant decades to study magic, and perfect it. It also heightened some of my senses, making me more powerful. A young Finley thought it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
“And current Finley?”
“Well, the curse is not ideal, like you mentioned...”
I press my fingers to my eyes, horrified. There aren’t any mirrors around the castle, and I haven’t seen my reflection anywhere but in my bathwater every night.
“If you’re wondering about your eyes, they’re dark brown. Unlike mine, I’m guessing they remained the same.”
“Really?” Why do I feel disappointed? Something is wrong with me.
“Yes. So, if you’re going to help Ash break the curse, then I’ll do my best to help you with what I can.”
I nod and reach for my borrowed grimoire. “Will this lead me to an answer?”
Finley eyes the book warily. “I have gone through every book and diary in the library, searching for anything that could release him, and that book wasn’t there, Mia.”
My cheeks warm, but I don’t turn to look at Naheli. No matter what, I won’t be the one to get her in trouble. Even though I doubt an ancient spirit could get reprimanded in any way that matters.
Just then, the lunargyre who has been slowly inching closer leaps toward Finley with a ghostly snarl. Goose bumps rise over my skin, and it takes a second for Naheli’s mist to envelop him inside a cocoon of stars and darkness. Then she flings him across the courtyard without moving a muscle.
Both Finley and I stare at the space where the statue landed, unmoving and at a loss for words.
He moves first, picking up the now-full basket beside me and loading it into his cart. “There’s a better chance of finding something in your city’s grimoires than here.” He pauses, following my gaze to where the door of the kitchen swings open.
“Finley, I thought the mountain people ate you.” Ash beams from the open door, walking toward us with his arms wide in greeting.
My heart rate doubles as I take him in. He’s wearing different clothes from earlier when we trained. A dark blue coat with gold embellishments and a tall cravat a similar color to the feathers that still hug his thick neck.
I hold my breath and bring the book to my chest. The movements call his eyes, and his steps slow. His expression darkens as he takes me in. Out here, in the open.
