Page 31

Not sure what else to do, I sit. He pulls out another stool from underneath and does likewise. Clasping his hands and leaning onto his forearms, he studies me.

I fidget with my shirt sleeves in the sudden quiet.

“So.”

Behind me, the fire crackles. I feel my cheeks heating up again. What am I even doing here? In some stranger’s house, uninvited? With a boy I don’t know? My neck could splinter with the tension. I sweep my windblown hair over one shoulder. My hands disappear into the mass of waves and instinctively start working the knots loose. The sensation of the strands slipping between my fingers is enough to convince my heart to slow.

I’m thankful not to be trapped in the middle of a riot.

“Tell me what you want to know,” Belwyn says.

The strain in my neck eases a little now that he initiated the conversation. I chew on my bottom lip. My hands fall to the table. “Start with the attacks.”

He nods subtly and takes a few slow breaths.

“The first one—” he swallows, pain flitting across his face. “The first death was three weeks ago. The night of Kuvror Erovantus.” He inspects his thumbnails absently, running one under the other. “My brother.”

My lips part. I should say something, but there are no words for a thing like that. Is that what drove Utsanek into the state of panic that night? I focus on the lines where the boards of the table meet and allow him to continue when he feels ready. His chest expands and contracts with measured breaths.

“The second happened about a week later, after I—well, the men—searched the entire city for all the remaining bones.”

My eyes abandon the table and seek his.

“Who?”

Belwyn shrugs. “A man and a woman foolish enough to keep sola brossa with them. They were never identified. The bones were in their pockets when they were found.”

I’m about to remark on how callous he sounds, but nothing would feel significant after losing your own brother. At least, I can imagine.

“Since then, there has been a death every day.”

His words advance where the ténesomni dares not, tightening around my chest until it is hard to breathe.

“Every day?” I gasp.

He nods but doesn’t look up.

“Did they conceal bones as well?”

“That’s the thing. No one knows why they were targeted. They had nothing on them.” He clenches his jaw. “And it hasn’t only been people that should know better. Today, they killed a ... a child.”

The weight sinks down and pools in my stomach. Belwyn must feel it too, because his eyes pinch shut, and his head appears too heavy for his shoulders.

“That’s why everyone’s so angry. They have given up all their light, and now they are afraid they will be forced to give up their children.”

It is difficult to speak when there’s no air in your lungs. “And is it certain—do we know—was it the kaligorven?”

Belwyn raises his head. His eyes mirror the firelight. He doesn’t need to say anything to confirm it.

How could this be? I have been exploring the forest so carelessly since the Hunt—bringing home bolétis, of all things. I could have met a kaligorva at any moment.

I don’t know how I’m still alive.

My fingernails scrape the wood. I wince when a sliver embeds itself, but I make no move to dig it out.

“What else did you want to know?” Belwyn asks. He sounds tired.

I shift on the stool and trap my hands between my knees. I want to know about any rumors of people with the ability to repel darkness. I want to know I’m not alone. The questions expand inside me until I feel I will burst, but my father’s words play over in my mind.