Page 43 of Unraveled (A Kingdom of Beasts and Ruins #1)

“I can’t keep going,” Ash grumbles from where he leans against a nearby tree. He slowly lets his body slide down its trunk until he sits between two large roots. Dragging a hand over his face, he stares up at the tree canopy as morning twilight falls upon us.

“I’m happy to rest for a little while,” I say, hoping my panic doesn’t show.

He scoffs in response, like I’ve done a poor job at finding us shelter before slumber takes ahold of him.

“If anyone comes our way, and I mean anyone , you run west until you hit Fairhope. Don’t look back.

” He points vaguely over his shoulder in a direction I can’t quite make out through the fog.

His eyes close as his breathing deepens.

A month ago, I would have run. But that was the Mia that thought Penumbra was her home. A human woman who loved her job and wanted to continue learning forbidden magic right under the head librarian’s nose.

Now, panic spreads in my chest as I urge time to pass quickly and for Ash to wake up. I’m decent at warding spells, which would be useful to protect us from the creatures of the forest.

I believe your magic is unlocked by strong emotions . Ash’s words circle in my mind.

I’m full of powerful emotions right now, and yet, I can’t seem to get my magic to work. Nor my amulet.

I close my eyes and focus on the noises in the darkness around us, the memory of the shadow creature in Ash’s reflection, and I hold on to the fear that unravels through my veins.

My power brews in my stomach, and it doesn’t take long for it to tingle in my fingertips.

I spend a few minutes grasping at fading threads of magic, and it feels like an eternity before I can finally weave a warding spell and pull it tight to keep us safe.

Ash was right. My hairpin did nothing to aid me, and in the end, I’m able to channel enough magic to erect a ward by using the panic rushing through me.

Thirty minutes later, Ash quietly studies the golden shield around us. He doesn’t say much, but I see a flash of pride in his features right before I let the spell collapse. I’m tired, hungry—cold—but we continue traveling under the trees by foot until midday.

When the storm finally clears over us, we fly the rest of the way to the Crossroads.

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t a small abandoned town that reminds me of Eponde.

Tucked into the shelter of the forest, it’s a long strip of boarded-up shops and statues frozen throughout.

Tree roots have come through the paving stones of what was previously a plaza.

If I close my eyes, I can imagine it in its full glory, but dread snakes under my clothes and crawls over my skin.

Dark magic.

Mist covers the ground as we walk in silence through a metal gate and into a small building that seems to have been a magical market.

It’s a structure of gray stone and dark wood with clay shingles covering the high-pitched roof.

A sign hangs crookedly over the door, the paint so worn I can’t read its name.

We pass tables tipped on their side, partially hidden by tall, dry grass.

Like the castle, wilderness has taken this place.

“Was this a fae town?”

Ash nods and leads me behind the fallen market, down a narrow path, and to a modest house in the back.

It’s fully encased in evergreen walls, but it feels less haunted than the rest of the village.

Without a word, he runs up a set of five long steps to the entrance.

The front door is chipped with age, and it stands between two overgrown topiaries in large urns.

He reaches for the brass door handles and pauses before glancing back at me.

“Traveling through the kingdom as a fae is dangerous. Even Finley can find himself in trouble because he’s tied to me.

The last few years, he’s been attacked ten times by the strix.

We figured they were tracking the royal carriage, so we got a wagon that has no connection to my crown.

The hybrids seem to know where he’s going, though, and they disguise themselves, much like we do.

Since they travel the same routes Finley frequents and don’t need to carry amulets, sometimes in order to avoid confrontations, he needs to stay here. ”

The door screeches as Ash pushes it open, and we step into a receiving room with high ceilings and an ornate chandelier hanging above us. I scrunch my nose at the mold growing in the corners.

It feels like we’re imposing in someone’s home, even though it’s clear from the bed of dust accumulating on the stairs, this place has been vacant for a while.

My heart is heavy with emotion, and I clutch at my chest as I step into the living room.

Their things are still scattered about like they left in a rush.

Or perhaps this all happened after they were gone, and someone ransacked their place looking for valuables.

“It’s never going to stop surprising me what happened to your people.

Forced out of their homes by a curse. Also, I can’t get over that you all lived just like us.

You have the same furniture, paintings, books.

” I wave at a sofa and gesture to the fireplace crafted with river stone, knickknacks accumulated on the mantel under an ornate painting where a spider made a home at some point.

Ash lifts a brow and tugs a white sheet off the couch, wadding it up between his hands before tossing it into the corner. “And what did you think we lived like?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. My breath billows in front of my face. “I guess I expected you to live surrounded by white marble and silver things.”

His expression remains haunted even as he smiles. “Are you disappointed by our lack of lavish homes?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I tighten his coat, which I’m still wearing, by the belt, hoping it will bring some warmth back. “All the fae homes I’ve been to are plenty lavish. A castle, a manor, and this is still bigger than my townhome...”

Something in this place is uncharacteristically icy, even for the middle of winter, like the house itself is colder than it is outside.

The grimoires pile in through the front door. One after the other, carried by golden magic. Ash waves a hand, and they all line up on the coffee table, across the floor, and even on the couch. I shut the door after every single book has floated in.

“Should I be worried about lunargyres in here?”

“No.” Ash picks a smaller grimoire from the pile, pages through it, and his lips tighten. The grimoire grunts in displeasure when Ash puts it back.

“Is the book disappointing?” I ask, but keep the book’s weird emotions to myself.

“It’s not that...” He loosens his cravat before undoing the top buttons of his shirt as he strolls aimlessly around the place. “A fae I knew well wrote it. I haven’t seen him in a decade.”

Silence settles between us to match the severity of his turbulent emotions. But I don’t dare to break it, instead I try to keep myself busy by studying the large painting over the fireplace.

“To answer your previous question: The lunargyres that may have been here moved downstream a long time ago. I imagine they’re living closer to your old home, Penumbra.

The rest of the fae who used to live here are out in the back, frozen in stone.

There have been no living creatures in this house for at least four years.

Except for Finley and Amaia, the old hound that belonged to the family. A nightwalker ate her, though.”

I stare at him, horrified. “Are you serious?”

Ash steps toward the fireplace, drops a few logs into the hearth, and chuckles darkly. “Monster, you make it too easy to tease you.”

Nightwalkers, creatures of fable that live and feed on nightmares. I can see them thriving here if they exist. After meeting Naheli, I’ll believe anything is possible.

“That’s not funny, Ash. If nightwalkers exist, they must be attracted to dark magic, which you keep mentioning is all around you.”

Plus, if I’m frank with myself, I can feel the ugly marks of wickedness weaving around us. Tight in the crevices of the wooden floors and deep in the shadows of this room.

“You’ve been acting strange ever since we arrived here.

” I reach for the pin in my hair, and trace the smooth beads that surround the stone, a soothing motion that used to calm me when it was my mother’s old amulet under my fingertips.

But not now. Even as I stand here, wanting to be in control of my magic, I can admit to myself things have changed. I’ve changed.

Ash’s jaw ticks, and his expression turns thoughtful. “I used to come here when I was a child, to see my best friend. Before life got complicated.”

He leans against the mantel and a curtain of wavy black hair falls over his forehead, droplets of rain grazing his skin. “Seeing this place in this state is difficult. But we’ll be fine for a day or two, and in the meantime, we can work on your magic as you requested.”

Ash steps into the dark hallway, stopping briefly to glance back at me. “I’m going to find something for us to eat. Can you make a fire?”

There’s a challenge in his eyes, but it isn’t unkind. He knows I can cast a fire spell. The trick will be to use magic when I’m so clearly dependent on my broken amulet. I was able to use magic in the forest by focusing on my fear. Now, I can focus on other feelings.

His footsteps disappear in the distance, and wind hisses through broken glass as I kneel by the hearth.

I raise my hands to the fresh wood he just dropped in there.

Layers upon layers of ash and old charcoal coat the interior of the cave-like fireplace.

I allow my sadness for those who called this place home to come to the forefront of my mind.