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But I don’t go and find Ruskin. If I want an explanation, I know I need to see someone I’ve already noted isn’t at this party. Although whatever answer he has for me, I probably won’t like it.

Chapter 19

The light is on in Maidar’s window, so I don’t feel bad about knocking. When he answers the door, his face is as stern as it always is, regardless of the hour you call.

“I was reading,” he says as he shuffles over to the fire, leaving the door open for me to follow him in.

“You didn’t want to join the holding feast?” I ask, wondering how I’m going to build up to the questions I want to ask.

“No.” He grunts, stoking the fire. “I heard you lot had come through all right, give or take a few injuries.” He glances at me. “That rabble rousing hasn’t been my thing for a long time. Too many people to hold, too many memories,” he says, gazing into the flames.

I don’t know how old Maidar is, but if he tutored Ruskin, he’s at least three centuries. I wonder if the wheels of history—one battle and the next—start to feel inconsequential after a while.

“But you didn’t come here to discuss the military traditions of this court,” he says, giving me a piercing stare.

“What’s happening to me?” I blurt out.

“Be specific,” Maidar says, laying down his poker and taking a seat on the stool by the fire.

“I mean, you said my appearance was probably changing because of Interra, but it’s not just my looks. My senses have changed, and I’m strong now—stronger even than many fae, the healer said, which is the only reason why my injury today didn’t kill me.” I can hear my voice rising, the emotions I’ve been holding onto threatening to spill over. “And I can suddenly eat and drink fae food without it affecting me. I want to know why. Why am I becoming…less human?” The last two words come out as a gasp, and I’m horrified to feel a sob rising in my throat. I feel silly, like I’m overreacting, but these changes are so far beyond my control, and I can’t stand to think of the implications.

He gives me a long look.

“Was Ruskin’s mother stronger at the battle too?”

“What?” I stare at him.

“Was Evanthe’s magic different today when you confronted her?” he rephrases calmly.

I think about it. “Yes, she was stronger, but also the iron she controls had a new darkness to it, shadows that look like things we saw in Interra. We think Cebba’s magic attracted them to her when she was there. Darkness calls to darkness, Ruskin said.”

Maidar nods and I’m impatient, not wanting to wait for him to explain.

“Well? What does that have to do with what’s happening to me?”

“I don’t think Interra is the sole reason you are taking on more fae characteristics,” Maidar says. “I think your naminai bond with Stiltskin is playing more of a role than I initially thought it would. The two are linked, but you are sharing in his magic now, and it’s understandable that would come with change. The question is what your experience, and Dawnsong’s, can tell us about the way Interra works.”

I don’t know what he means, and in this moment, I don’t have the energy to ask. No one asked me if I wanted this, no one warned me. One minute I was my normal, human self, and now I’m…something else entirely. Something other. My mind goes to the changeling I met the last time I was in Styrland, Tesha. She was trapped between two identities, two worlds, and I understand now why she seemed so lost and confused.

I must look as unhappy as I feel, because Maidar rises and places a leathery hand on my arm.

“Take heart, Eleanor Thorn. Because I think you may have just given us the key to retrieving Stiltskin’s memories.”

Dark circles sit under my eyes the following morning, as I rise and dress for Maidar’s arrival. Last night I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep after Maidar’s revelations. He wouldn’t go into details about his theories no matter how much I asked, saying he would explain it all to both of us in the cold light of day, muttering about getting some research together first.

Frustrated and anxious, I went straight to the room I shared with Ruskin and climbed into bed, feeling like I couldn’t face Ruskin that night. I knew if we spoke he’d notice something was wrong, and then that would lead to more questions that I couldn’t answer. So, like a coward, I pretended to sleep when he came in from the holding feast.

Now, Ruskin slides his arms around me as I stand before the mirror, kissing the tip of my bare shoulder. He frowns at my reflection, perhaps noticing my tense expression.

“We can call off this meeting with Cragfoot if you need more rest,” he says.

“No, I’m fine. He said in the note it’s important and…” I hesitate, but I hate keeping things from Ruskin, and decide the truth is best—or at least a version of it. “I ran into him last night and we had an odd conversation about Interra and your memories. I think he has a new theory for how to unlock them.”

“Really?” Ruskin asks, and the hopeful note in his voice makes my heart flutter.

“Do you still want that, after everything?” I ask.

“Do you still want that?” he replies, and I have to turn away from his searching gaze to give myself some space to think.