Page 34 of Lana Pecherczyk

“Get out,” he clipped.

Blake’s lips parted.

“She’s your mate, River,” Ada pointed out dryly. “She was bound to find out at some point.”

“I said, get out.” His eyes flashed with barely contained fury, and he jabbed a finger toward the curtain.

Vulnerability warred with rage in his eyes. Despite his efforts to block their connection, she could still read his emotions.

What kind of world had she awakened to? His scars ran deeper than the eye could see, etched into his soul like the lightning marks on his skin.

She excused herself and padded back to her bay, the cool tiles soothing against her bare feet. On the center of her bed sat a small wooden chest, its polished surface gleaming in the diffused window light. Inside was full of red glass coins. Each had an intricately engraved wolf’s head on one side and the Summer Court crest on the other. The emblem had been on the uniforms of soldiers and palace staff. This must be the local currency. But why was it here, on her bed? Had someone forgotten it, or was it meant for her?

Her gut tightened as possibilities raced through her mind. Was this her signal to get moving? Were they kicking her out and sending her on her way? Or was it from River—some kind of payment or bribe for her to keep away from him?

Alimony? Marital support, so he didn’t feel so guilty leaving her behind?

She stared at the curtain separating her from the other bay, racking her brain for clues about what might have caused River’s pain. Someone with daddy issues. But who? The fae were at war with Nero. The others had mentioned mana-warped monsters. And now that she thought of it, if this were the last habitable piece of land on Earth, survival itself would demand brutality. Gnawing her lip, she tried to suppress the building sense of fear and helplessness, but it swelled within her chest.

This era was far more dangerous than she wanted to admit.

The evidence was etched into River’s very skin. And his feathers … they weren’t growing back. Fae healing in itself was still hard to comprehend. But from the hushed tones of their continued conversation, River’s condition wasn’t normal.

She’d wasted her life worrying about follower counts and social media reach, living through the lens of a camera. Now, she felt adrift without those things, not even a broken phone to check her makeup. A humorless laugh escaped as she touchedher bare face. Makeup belonged in another life. None of the women here seemed to wear it at all.

“Heya, girl.”

Trix’s cheerful greeting pulled Blake from her spiral. The dark, curly-haired woman waddled into the bay, cradling a wicker basket. Her floral-embroidered blouse, which might have once been loose, strained over her swollen belly. The due date couldn’t be far off.

“G’day, mate.” Blake offered a small smile. Trix’s British accent was comforting, a small reminder of home in this alien world. Not Australian, but like a distant cousin.

She seemed to feel the same way because she made Blake repeat her Aussie greeting twice before she sighed and perched on the edge of Blake’s bed with a pensive look toward River’s bay.

“That sounds serious,” Trix murmured. “I’ll wait until they finish before I approach him.”

Unsure how to respond, Blake asked, “What’s in the basket?”

Trix’s eyes lit up with excitement. “It’s River’s chakram—his Guardian weapon. It looks a bit like a pizza cutter, or a frisbee, I suppose. Only sharper.” She pulled the cloth covering the basket off. “The middle splits apart, and he can use two curved blades in battle. Or he can use it together like this.”

Blake almost laughed. She’d expected some kind of knitted baby wear, but here was Trix, heavily pregnant and gleefully showing off a deadly weapon. If she didn’t already like the woman, she certainly did now.

“That’s both impressive and a little terrifying,” Blake admitted, eyeing the gleaming steel.

“You think?”

“Fuck yeah.” Blake nodded vehemently.

“I’ve been tinkering with it lately,” Trix continued with unchecked enthusiasm. “I’m experimenting with modificationsto disperse and distribute mana flow evenly across the surface area. Guardian mana is fascinating. I want to see if I can help River utilize it as a shield. I suspect it will work. River’s quite good using air and water magic in tandem, so I’ve ensured the main conduit doesn’t interfere with his casting, but I added tiny grooves here and here…”

Trix’s eyes gleamed with the thrill of invention as she continued to detail the intricacies of her work, but Blake struggled to follow along. This world, with its magical weapons and strange technologies, still left her disoriented. She was caught between fascination and bewilderment.

“Right now,” Trix continued, “the chakram directs all energy to the cutting edge, but with these modifications, the mana can flow any number of ways.” Trix carefully placed her hand on Blake’s and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s safe before I return it to him.”

Her voice was hopeful, filled with a desire to help and protect those she cared about. Blake found herself smiling at the woman’s kindness and dedication, even as the effort to keep up left her feeling more than a little out of her depth. Was this what magic was supposed to be like? Or was Trix playing on a level no one else could touch?

“If he redirects the flow this way, it could be more like a net around the whole thing and not just channeled to the edges…”

Her voice trailed off as she noticed Blake’s eyes glazing over. “I’m boring you. Long story short, the next time some bugger tries to throw lightning at him?—”