Page 34

Chapter

Thirty-Four

Einar’s long dreadlocks keep whipping me in the face, but it’s actually a good distraction from being so far above the ground. Sapphire’s enormous wings create a different wind from the one of us moving forward through the air. A few times we’ve gone directly through a cloud, which is colder than I’d have thought.

Harek clings to me as I grip my father with everything in me. He keeps laughing, as if this is the most magnificent thing in the world. Maybe I’ll feel the same way about it once my feet are back on land. For now, all I can picture is losing my grip and plummeting to my death.

I have to admit the view of the forest down below is breathtaking. It seems small from up here, yet when Harek and I traveled through, the trees made me feel small. Apparently it’s all a matter of perspective. I’ll have to keep that in mind when I have to face Gunnar.

My stomach knots at the thought of having to see him again. All my life, he’s forced me into compliance by any means necessary. I had to give into him for survival—not that it got me anywhere, considering the moment my mother died he was ready to hand me over to Vog.

I shudder at the thought of that having gone through. If Gunnar hadn’t warned me of his plans, if I hadn’t been able to get away in time, if Harek and his family weren’t so good to me… Would my fae abilities have come through at some point? Perhaps I would’ve killed Vog and then within a month turned into a wolf in the middle of the city.

But none of that happened. I’m here with my hunter father and a member of my werewolf pack. One half of my legacy in front of me, and the other behind. While we’re riding a dragon over the forest that took Harek and me a week to hike through.

I’m not sure what to expect once we get to Skoro. Will I be able to find the sword and leave unnoticed? Or will Gunnar figure out what’s going on and confront us? What will come of my siblings if we have to kill my wicked stepfather?

Those are questions for later. With so much on the line, I can’t worry about what-ifs. We can figure out solutions to problems as they arrive.

Harek’s grip around me tightens, and I glance down.

Skoro. We’re here. It’s mind blowing to consider, given how long it took us to get from here to the fae city.

Einar turns back to me. “Where’s the farm?”

My stomach lurches. This is really happening.

He repeats his question, and I pull myself together.

At first the wind steals my words, so I speak louder. “It’s near the back! Where all the open land is.” I lean over for a better look. “It’s over there.” I point, though I’m not sure he can see my gesture.

Einar shouts something, and a moment later, Sapphire turns toward my childhood home. She dips and twists, making my stomach drop. The souls bang around against each other, perhaps sensing we’re close to my sword which will free me of them.

The dragon aims for the horse’s field. She lands in the middle, skidding to a stop a few feet from the barn. The force throws me against Harek, then we both lunge forward against my father.

He’s the first one off, and he helps me down first and then Harek. “Where do you think the sword is?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have any idea where it might be?”

“It could be in the house, or in the storage shed. Maybe he buried it somewhere. Or he could’ve tossed it in the woods. Anything is possible.”

Einar grumbles. “You really don’t know where he would put something worth so much?”

“He always hides valuables from me. I don’t know where.”

“We better get moving before daylight.” My father pats Sapphire, who plops on the ground.

My siblings would lose their minds if they knew a dragon was on the farm right now. Under different circumstances, I’d run to my room—my former room—and wake Runa so she could see. I’d love to see her eyes light up with delight, but unfortunately it’s best if she sleeps through all of this.

Einar glances at my hand. “Hold it out and walk toward the place you think he most likely put it.”

I do as he says and head for the storage shed because it’s the closest of the possible places. I’m not sure if he would put my sword there or not. Hopefully my hand really will let me know. Never once did it light up when I was over at Harek’s house before my mother’s death.

“You’re sure this will work?” I ask him. “It was hidden at Harek’s house, and my hand never did anything.”

“It probably did, but you weren’t looking for signs. You’re connected to the sword, so it will make itself known.”

“If you say so.”

He nods and looks around before his gaze lands on Harek. “Do you have any ideas where the man would hide a fae sword?”

“I’m not sure he knows it’s fae, but regardless, I have less of an idea than Eira has.”

“Then we’ll hope it shows itself quickly.” He gives me a nod.

Here goes nothing. I walk toward the barn, but my palm does nothing. No warmth, no glow. “How close do I have to get to it?”

“Fairly close,” Einar says. “However, you should feel it first if you’re paying attention. Otherwise, you won’t notice. It isn’t a homing beacon.”

I groan, but keep going until I’m inside the barn. Some of the animals snort and snuffle when they see me. I offer quick pats but don’t have time to give them the warm greeting I’d like after being gone so long.

My palm doesn’t do anything as I make my way around, nor do I feel any kind of inkling—not that I know what feeling to expect. All I sense is my rushing pulse and the aggravating souls.

When I step out of the barn, both Harek and my father throw me expectant glances.

“Nothing,” I say, although the fact that I’m not holding a sword should answer their silent questions.

We make our way toward the storage shed, which is about halfway between the barn and the house. The shed seems too obvious, making it seem like the last place Gunnar would put it.

Snap!

A branch. I spin around.

Harek waves. “It was just me.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and keep moving toward the storage. It isn’t a huge structure, so I creep around it with my hand held toward it.

Nothing.

“To the house?” Harek asks.

Acid churns in my stomach but I nod. I’ve always dreaded seeing Gunnar, but now my anxiety is even worse after our encounter in the woods. He would rather see me dead than alive, unless he benefits somehow. At least I’m not alone.

Now the dragon is out of our line of sight. I should’ve suggested she follow us. Too late now. Hopefully, we can find my weapon and get out of here before anyone sees us.

As we approach the house, my right palm warms slightly. I can see how I never noticed before I knew about being fae.

It also has a faint, almost imperceptible glow.

My sword is close.

The front door of the house flings open. Gunnar stands in the doorway.

He aims a gun directly at me.