Page 89 of Omen of ice
He stands and shakes his head. “You’re stubborn and ornery and refuse to compromise, but you’ve become…important to me. I always respected you—our partnership—but it’s more than that now.”
“So serious!” I tease. “Who would have thought it possible?”
His gaze meets mine, and a shimmer of challenge gleams. “You might be surprised at what’s possible.” He turns on his heel and goes to join the others.
I watch him for a moment, wavering just a bit in my choice not to tell him the truth.
It doesn’t take long to find what we’re looking for. The party of five is stomping through the brush, making little attempt at stealth. They’re dressed in the Winter Court’s colors, and in the back of their camp, there’s a small cage with three yorger hatchlings.
“Told you so.”
Valen snorts. “Fine. I’ll just ice them, and we can grab the slimy bugs and be on the way.” He lifts a hand and takes a deep breath, but Delkin snatches it, pulling him—and me—past Daroose and Benj, away from the tree line.
“Stop. No magic.”
Valen narrows his eyes. “Those are Orbik’s men. We have two choices: allow them to see us and keep following—or kill them.”
Delkin drags us back to the trees and points at something through the leaves. “That’s a sniffer. Probably how they tracked you this far.”
By the fire, off to the right of the men, there’s a huddled figure wrapped in a hooded purple cloak. It’s small and slender, and when it shifts and the hood of its cloak moves aside, I see dark blue scales covering a long, pointed snout. The thing brings a gnarled finger tipped with wicked claws up to swat away several flies buzzing around its head.
“What’s a sniffer?” I ask.
Valen shudders. “You mean besides hideous?”
“Sniffers are rare,” Delkin says. “Old, old blood, back from before the Fae walked in Derriga. They’re able to smell magic from miles away.”
“So every time we…” Valen pales. “Gods. We’ve been making iteasyfor them.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Delkin says with a frown.
“Now what? With no magic, how are we supposed to get the worms without them seeing us?” We’ve wasted so much time already.
“We could always just kill them,” Benj says with a shrug. He stands behind us, sharpening his blade. “My dragon is feeling a bit peckish.”
“No. These Fae are hunting us, but they do so at my uncle’s command. Who knows what lies Orbik told them? They might believe Tania and I are true enemies of the court. Or, more likely, that Tania has kidnapped me. If they think that, they’ll injure me badly—not enough to kill me, but more than enough to take down a human.”
Benj snorts and opens his mouth, but one look from Delkin and he clams up.
I steal another quick glance at the camp. The sniffer sits unmoving by the fire. “Then I don’t see why we don’t charge in, take the hatchlings, and fight our way out. Aim to incapacitate. In, out, on our way.”
Benj slips his sword into its sheath. “Valen and Delkin cannot be seen together. If anyone were to—”
“If word gets back to Orbik that Valen found his father, they might think he’ll betray them. No way to know what they’d do with that information,” Delkin says. I don’t miss the way Delkin aims a subtle shake of his head toward Benj or how the warrior cringes just a little at the nonverbal scolding. “But if there was no way to tell we were related…”
Benj laughs. “Good idea.”
Delkin turns to me. “Your sigils are not traceable magic.”
A mask sigil. He wants me to change their appearance.
“I wouldn’t ask, but—”
“No. It’s a good idea.” I hold up a hand and step back. Digging into my belt, I untie the pouch containing my ink. “It has to be close to the eyes. I need something reflective so I can see myself.”
Benj rummages through his pack and pulls out a small glass box. “Will this work?”
I settle on a large rock and prop the box up in front of me, then dip a finger into the ink. The sigil is simple: a crudely drawn eye. It’s the first sigil I’ve done since we ended up linked, and as I move my finger and try not to cringe, I know Valen feels the sting of the magic as it seeps into my skin. It takes all my strength not to show how badly it hurts. When I’m done, Valen is staring at me, his expression a mix of pain and confusion. I told him the sigils don’t hurt.
