A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(86)

“I know, I know, the whole concept of a book is so hard for you.” Mari said. “These are words,” she enunciated slowly, before turning back to me. I covered my laugh with a bite of potato.

“All I’m asking for is discretion. You weren’t supposed to know any of this,” Griffin shot a pointed look in my direction. “And you never know who could be listening.”

Mari nodded in a fake display of sincerity, her brown eyes big and innocent. “You’re right. I think Sleepy behind us is working for the enemy. Good eye, Commander.”

Griffin stared down at his stew, possibly contemplating all of his life choices. I shot him my best thank you for bringing her along smile. He got up from the table, leaving his dinner behind.

“Mar, why do you antagonize him?”

Mari looked back at her book while she shoveled a spoonful into her mouth.

“I don’t mean to.”

I glared at her.

“Anyways,” she continued, lowering her voice. “I’m not sure why lighte is what interests you the most out of what Kane told you. There’s nothing in here about it.”

Damn. “That’s the whole issue. Even if by some unlikely odds we defeat this king—”

“Which I don’t see happening.”

I shot her another glare.

“Sorry,” she added.

“Even if we did, there are tens of thousands of mortals and Fae living in a hellscape realm. It isn’t right. And we can’t save their lands or bring them here without learning more about Lighte.”

I pushed my plate away from me. My stomach had soured and suddenly nothing sounded worse than the starchy, grainy mush.

Mari eyed me suspiciously. “Since when do you care so much? About a realm you only learned of five days ago?”

I couldn’t really answer her. I wasn’t sure. The feeling of helplessness was an all too familiar one. One I had experienced every day of my life until I came to Onyx. But I had learned to live without my family. To sword fight, to be bold. I had survived an attack from a fae mercenary. And now Kane was leaning on me, counting on me—he had called it relentless positivity, but despite all the helplessness, there was another feeling blossoming inside me.

And maybe it was hope.

***

The patchwork blanket was rough against my skin and the bed smelled of mothballs and sour laundry. I turned to my other side to see if somehow that configuration would be more comfortable.

It wasn’t.

The pillow was hot against my cheek no matter which way I flipped it, and the stagnant air of the inn was suffocating me. I threw on my boots and made my way down the stairs before I knew where I was going.

Outside, the cool air was like a caress against my face. I took a deep inhale of obsidian wheat and cut grass. I had fallen a bit in love with the rough Onyx land. Lemongrass, lilac, lavender. The sticky, sweet fragrances of my childhood town now felt cloying in my memory.

I poured water from the inn’s well into my cupped palms and splashed my face. The sound of metal on metal surprised me, and I turned to see two men fighting in the distance. When one called out for mercy my legs began moving of their own accord.

It wasn’t yet morning, so I rubbed my eyes and squinted into the dim light, looking for some kind of weapon to stop them. All I saw was a long piece of wood.

That would have to do.

I ran toward the men, prepared to break up the fight with a branch, when I heard a deep peal of male laughter.

The exhale that puffed out of me was almost comical.

Griffin was shirtless and dripping sweat. His blond hair was matted to his forehead. Across from him, a mop-headed young soldier that we had been traveling with lunged. Griffin parried the overhead blow with ease then clocked him in the head with his pommel.

“Ouch!”

“Less talking, more focus on your distance. You’re getting too close,” said Griffin. His eyebrows perked up when he saw me.

“Morning, healer.” Griffin ducked under the next attack and hit the boy in the stomach with his other hand.

“If I had my dagger, Rolph, you’d be dead.”

Rolph dropped his sword and flopped down on a nearby bale of hay. “All right. I’m dead.”

“What kind of attitude is that?” Griffin asked, but Rolph had already stalked back toward the well, surely for water and to tend to his bruised ego.

“You could go a little easier on him,” I said, picking up his discarded weapon.

“And then what would he learn?”

I turned the sword over in my hands. “You could be a little easier on Mari, too.”

Griffin’s playful energy shifted. “Did she say that? That I was hard on her?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m saying that.”

Griffin hummed a non-answer.

I had missed the feeling of steel in my hands. The power I felt when I wielded a sword.

“Care for a wager?”

Griffin raised a sweating brow at me. “You’ve been spending too much time with our King,” he said. Then, after a moment, “Try me.”

“If I can land a single blow on you, even one, you have to say something kind to Mari. A genuine compliment.”

Griffin rolled his eyes. “What are we, school children?”

I grinned.

“Fine. If you can’t though, what do I get?”