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“I beg to differ.” Cloud strolled in, rubbing weary eyes. Black wavy locks dangled to his shoulders. His hair was longer than usual, knotty, and dull. Mud and monster bile spattered half his leathers and wings, making him stink.
Leaf looked away. This reprobate crow shifter hadn’t stopped hunting mana-warped monsters despite his desire to murder a human in Crystal City. Nero’s daughter—and likely Maebh’s lost granddaughter—had tortured him when he was trapped in the city over a century ago. But Cloud had waited years for his revenge. What was another decade except more time to plot the perfect reckoning?
Leaf’s fingers twitched for his sword and patiently watched Cloud slice salted meat with his dirty dagger, slap it between two pieces of bread, and chew loudly, glaring at the women.
“I think what Clarke means,” Leaf explained, “is that living without it is different from suffering without it.”
Cloud stopped chewing. Lightning flashed across his blue irises and skipped over his black tattoos.
Usually, Leaf wouldn’t back down, but he only wanted to escape this damned house. He turned to Clarke. “Anything else to share before I leave?”
She gaped at him and pointed at the murky water. “I just showed you we’re all fucked, and you’re still skipping out?”
Leaf raised an indignant brow. He leaned over the butcher block counter so she could hear him better. “What I do is of no concern to you.”
“Fine,” she ground out. “Be a dickhead. If you won’t listen to my advice about finding your mate, then…” She shook her head and exhaled. “Then show me where your lead is, and I’ll see if I can remember anything from my old visions that might aid your search.”
He straightened. Narrowed his eyes. “You’ll assist me?”
“I almost killed my daughter from meddling with fate. And before that, I was exploited into handing over codes to nuclear warheads. I’m a fast learner. Manipulation isn’t my thing.”
“So, what is your thing?” Cloud asked, deadly serious.
Leaf stared expectantly at Clarke.
“Any more testosterone in here, and we’ll spontaneously grow facial hair,” Violet said, rolling her eyes.
“Right?” Clarke smirked, then leveled her stare at Cloud. “My thing is protecting my family, which includes my daughter and everyone living in this house… that means you, asswipe.”
Awkwardness and disgust covered Cloud’s expression, and then he walked out. Give him a dagger, and he was your willing opponent. But give him emotion, and he ran away.
Leaf tugged his map from his satchel and flattened it on the countertop. “What can you tell me?”
Clarke scrutinized the map, noting the areas he’d already searched.
He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. “Give me a minute.”
“Stop pouting, elf.” Violet swatted him on the ass as she walked out.
He clenched, eyes wide. First, Clarke had called Cloud family. Now, Violet swatted his rear end like one of the lads in the barracks. Everyone in this house was mad.
Wait. Pouting? Leaf did not pout.
“Here.” Clarke tapped the pinnacle of the Meandering Woods. “The ruins you’re looking for are in there.”
“That’s a day’s ride in the opposite direction of where my intelligence leads me.”
“You’re looking for a cliff with giant faces carved into it, correct?”
His eyes narrowed. How the fuck did she know? But of course, she’d probably seen many things in her visions and, whether by choice, need, or forgetfulness, had not mentioned it.
She shrugged as if reading his thoughts like a Sluagh and explained, “I don’t always know if my dreams are relevant until someone says or does something that triggers a memory. For instance, this conversation right now in this kitchen with Cloud and Violet. I recall a dream with us talking before you head off on a journey. The place you’re looking for was once known as Mount Rushmore. It’s a cliff with the faces of leaders from my time. If my visions are correct, then it’s not situated in the same location now as it was then. I’m guessing your ‘intelligence’ is from one of Jackson Crimson’s journals.”
“Perhaps.”
She scoffed at his secrecy. “The land has shifted since my time. The shape of this country is different.”
Leaf held her confident stare for a long, tension-filled minute before cursing under his breath and retrieving a journal. He unbound the leather tie with rough, impatient motions and flicked through the old pages. Thankfully, the preservation spell on the ancient book had been cast long ago and still held, immune to the taint.
