Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(76)

“You’re not immortal or invulnerable, but no, you’re resistant to illness.” He let out a sigh. “I, unfortunately, am not, so I’ll take the preventative. I’ve never devised a way to make them taste less foul.”

“Well, you just entrance yourself so you think it tastes like ale or wine or whatever. It doesn’t, but you think it does and that’s the same thing, right?”

He lowered the tankard, stared at her. “That’s bloody brilliant, and it annoys me that in all my life I didn’t think of it.”

He took the preventative—two days running at Fallon’s insistence. They made rounds at all the camps for a full week.

Mick came by at dawn, fully recovered, and brought her new pants—longer—and new boots—a size up.

“How’d you know I needed these?”

“I can see. Your pants are too short, and you keep fiddling with your boots.”

“They’re really nice. Soft, and strong. Thanks.”

“I made them.”

“You did?” She studied them again, the soft, soft brown leather, the sturdy soles. “I didn’t know you could make boots.”

“I’m an elf,” he said dryly. “Anyway. Maybe I’ll see you at the glade later. The pool’s warm.”

“Maybe.”

He looked away a moment, over the white blanket of snow. “I was really scared about my dad. He’s never been sick like that. I’ve never seen so many of us sick. You saved him—us—you and Mallick. I’m—we’re all—really grateful. Old Ned’s making boots for Mallick. He’s nearly done, and he’ll bring them himself. So. I’ll see you later.”

And with sickness, her friendship with Mick healed.

Through the winter, through the snow, in skies more often gray than blue, Fallon twice watched crows circling. Not close, by her estimation. Five miles off, maybe more.

But it told her that while she trained, while she learned, while she stayed safe, others fought and died.

Twice she asked Mallick to let her take Laoch and go closer. Just to observe. Just to see—and learn. Twice he’d refused her.

In March, when the winds blew and the buds of spring remained tantalizingly out of reach, she saw again, asked again. Heard refusal again.

The third time lit the fuse of her temper.

“How am I supposed to know when I only fight with you, with swords charmed not to harm? You can’t beat me on horseback, and hardly ever otherwise. I can shoot an arrow farther than you and with more accuracy now. And with this?”

She flashed out her hands, sent the fire roaring, the candles flaming, the potion in the cauldron flying into the air and then spilling back in again.

“I’m as good as you.”

“I remain your teacher, and you my student.”

“Then let me learn what’s happening in the world. All my life I’ve been protected. At the farm, now here.”

“You’re not ready.”

“How do you know? I’ll just all of a sudden be ready when I’m fifteen? I’m nearly fifteen anyway.”

“Age isn’t the line.”

“What is? What is?”

“Open that door.” He gestured to the locked cupboard.

She marched to it, tugged. Held her hand and her temper over the lock. “You locked it so I can’t.”

“No. When you can open it, ask me again. I’ll work in peace now. Go, do something else, and do it somewhere else.”

“Fine. I don’t want to be around you, either.”

She stomped away, stomped to her room. She didn’t want to go outside in the continually crappy weather. She didn’t want to ride or swim in the faerie pool. She didn’t want to be there anymore.

She flopped down on her bed.

“I just want to see. I want to see, something else. Someone else. I want to see,” she muttered again. “I want to see, I want to be. Free to begin what’s asked of me. I need to start to play my part, to make my mark and hold back the dark.”

She didn’t intend to cast the spell. It just wound through her. She wasn’t aware anything had changed even when she got up to pace and brood a little more.

Then she noticed the ball of crystal on her table. And saw it had cleared.

“I want to see,” she repeated. “Now in this sphere my vision clear. I will see what I must see.”

She saw it all, sharp and clear as life within the globe. Not what was or would be, but what had been.

She watched, even as her heart hammered, as she felt licks of fear cold on her back, she watched it all.

Knowing what came next, what must come, she strapped on her sword, shouldered her bow. Laying her hands over the crystal, she let it take her inside.

Mallick worked off his annoyance, and considerable insult. Or tried. But when Fallon came back to the workshop nearly two hours after what he thought of as her tantrum, he realized he hadn’t worked off a thing.

“I’m not sorry,” she began.

“Then there’s no reason for you to interrupt my work.”

“The crystal cleared for me.”

He looked up then, looked at her. A little pale, he noted, and her eyes still full of visions. “And what did you see?”

“I saw New Hope. I saw the attack. I saw my uncle and his whore kill my birth father. I know their faces now. I know their faces. I saw my birth father shield my mother and me with his own body, his own life. I saw her grief and rage. And the killing wave of it. I was there.”