Page 53 of Fate Unchained

Portal hopping wasn’t his favorite because he wasn’t in control, but it was brief. They landed on a slight rise and brisk, ocean air swept over them. The quiet, cobbled street they’d landed on was shrouded by naked trees and sleeping shrubs, their flowers tucked away for winter. Pleasant cottages stood next to each other, and down at the end of the road was a glimpse of the ocean.

“Where are we?” Lilah asked.

“This is Ryba.” He scanned the grounds. “It’s a pretty-ish kind of place, I guess. Humans seem to think so, anyway. Juri, too, although vulk-kind usually prefer more trees. You’d probably like it here.”

“Does it have a library?” She peered around as if expecting one to drop from the sky.

Hazel stepped through the portal last, and it disappeared. She beckoned toward a cottage on the left. He knew this street. Triska, Juri’s mate, lived beside Hazel.

Hazel’s home still had green grass and a small garden along the side with lettuce and a few other herbs thriving. He glanced at the yard next door. Dead grass. Brown garden. “Doing a bit of witchery to keep your yard alive?” he asked.

Hazel brushed past him. “Never you mind.”

He raised his brows at Lilah as the two of them followed the spellcaster into her house, and she smiled at him. His chest warmed. He liked making her smile.

The inside was about what he expected for a spellcaster’s home, except it was extremely, almost excruciatingly tidy. The kitchen was large, with plants in small pots along the window. A book on a wooden pedestal sat on the counter. One square table stood in the middle of the kitchen space, with a dark bowl perfectly situated in its exact center.

Hazel bent and removed her shoes, slipping some furry abominations on her feet which looked like an animal’s paws. Lilah also bent and removed her boots, placing them next to Hazel’s shoes. Hazel frowned at the vulk. “I suppose vulk feet are fine, although you’re probably tracking all kinds of mud in here.”

Zann stared down at Hazel’s feet. “Haven’t you given up yet on making slippers? They still look terrible.”

Hazel sniffed and walked with her chin in the air to the table.

Lilah glared at Zann, and Zann actually looked away. Kyril’s brows rose. That wasn’t typical for Zann. As Alpha, he was the one who usually dominated eye contact.

Lilah followed Hazel. “I think your slippers look really toasty. I wish I had a pair for the library where I work. It’s chilly in there this time of year.”

Hazel’s expression softened. “They don’t look like anything special, but they work really well. Chessa,” she waved her hand, “she’s a seamstress in town, tells me she can fix them so they look more like slippers, but I like them this way.”

The vulk settled in the remaining chairs around the dark bowl in the center of the table. This was the second time he’d sat with Lilah at a table with a spellcaster. Come to think of it, Hazel reminded him a bit of Baba Yaga, both were unpredictable and prickly.

The spellcaster straightened. “Who do you want to scry for?”

Zann’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed at the bowl. “Why do you have this here? The last we heard, Fergal had it.” Fergal was another magicwielder who lived in Ryba.

Hazel’s face turned red. “I’m not scrying on you if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t care what you’re doing.”

He growled and leaned forward. “I want to know what you’re up to.”

Lilah slapped her hand down on the table. “Her business is her business. Do you want her asking what you’ve been doing?” Her voice had the prim tone she used when she was annoyed. The one he categorized as her librarian voice.

His lips curled, but he tensed, expecting Zann to snarl at Lilah. Which he wouldn’t allow. But Zann didn’t. He glanced at Kyril and muttered in Vulk, “Reminds me of getting yelled at by the schoolteacher, who was also my mother.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That made it a lot worse.”

He turned to Lilah. “Alright sarzila, let’s get this going.”

“Sarzila?” Lilah asked.

Kyril choked. Sarzila was a vulk slang word meaning captain. It was a joke. Zann called Hans’s twin boys sarzila, because they ruled Hans’s den, giving orders when they wanted to sleep and eat. He said to Lilah, “He’s saying you’re the boss.”

“Well, in that case.” She turned to Hazel. “Please scry for a man named Boris.”

Hazel nodded and drew a crystal from her pocket. Holding it tightly in one hand, she said, “Picture this Boris for me, please.” She waved her other hand over the scrying bowl. Purple flames ignited, licking up into the air.

An image wavered. Boris walked down a street alone, striding along as if he owned the place. But where was this? Kyril leaned forward and peered into the flames. The road was cobbled, so it was a well-established town, and the buildings Boris passed were stone. White stone.

“This is Coromesto,” Lilah said. “It has to be.”

Kyril nodded. “No leshak with him. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”

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