Page 83 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

Snow scoffed. “Trust me, it is no easier seeing Cai do it either.”

The spoon stilled midway to my mouth. “Why is that?”

Snow stopped chewing and turned to me with swollen cheeks, assessing my reaction. “Why? You no longer want to set me up with him?”

Moriko cleared her throat, interrupting us. “We have a man from the attack yesterday.”

“Perfect,” Snow said, beaming.

“Don’t hold out hope he will answer,” the Autumn Queen said. “My own soldiers tried.”

Snow scoffed around a mouthful of grapes. “Your conciliating methods failed you? How odd.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

“No, Mor dearest, you’re welcome when I try.”

The Autumn Queen remained unphased. “You wear arrogance well.”

“It is not arrogance. Getting what I want is what I know best. My skills do not fail me. And speaking about skills,” Snow said, turning to Nia. “How did you leave our Urinthia?”

“Melanthe was seen in Heca two days ago. She had visited the lower covens and then left for Isjord.”

Moriko said, “My spies sent news that she’d deviated from Asra and Red Coven in her journey. Whatever she did there it was not with Urinthia’s permission.”

“It seems like she is recruiting Crafters for Silas,” I said. “There is no other explanation for visiting the lower covens. He is garnering troops for war.”

Snow chewed slowly for the first time since I’d met her. “How is this slipping past Urinthia?”

Nia sighed. “Unless she is allowing it herself. The way she has cut contact with Mor and Kilian, how she has isolated herself and Red Coven from the rest of Eldmoor does not seem normal. Once I get past the veil we will find out.”

Not the Urinthia I knew since I was born, but the times had changed and perhaps so had she.

Snow nodded. “Careful.”

“Always,” Nia promised, sharing a long look with Snow.

It was far too impolite to call the Hanaian prison a prison. Not a holding facility either. The individual rooms were neat and decorated to resemble a normal bedroom. Each prisoner had a view of the coppery forest expanding for miles ahead of Aru from their windows that were not sealed by bars of iron. And each prisoner sat quietly either reading or fiddling with a puzzle while they drank from their steaming teacups. The order in the corridors was immaculate, too. The guards were unarmed, and the prisoners unchained while they moved along them.

Snow scoffed. “Now I know why you have had him for a night in here and he hasn’t spoken yet. You are treating him better than my father treats his guests.”

Moriko turned over her shoulder. “Sometimes the best solution is the lesser violence.”

Snow threw her head back in a laugh and when no one else followed suit, she straightened. “Oh, you were being serious.”

The Isjordian soldier stood at the edge of his bed, his entire focus on an empty spot on the ground. He didn’t stir, not even when the four of us entered the room.

“Soldier, we wish to speak to you,” Mor called. The man didn’t even blink, body solid still and attention steeled ahead. “Soldier.” He’d already made his decision; his shadows were of acceptance. He was terrified of dying, but he’d made his choice. “Sold—”

Snow was before him, kicking her knee in his face which sent him jerking a foot back in the bed and bleeding. “Want to try that one more time, Mor?” Snow said, before grabbing the man by the hair and dragging him to the ground. She bent down to his face, pinching his jaw tight with one hand. “Do I look familiar?”

The man began shivering when he met her yellow stare. “You’re…you’re dead. You died.”

“Bold statement,” she said. “Do you want to join me in the Otherworld?”

“I…I won’t say anything. I will take death.”

“Not that Otherworld, little soldier.” She lifted a hand, bolts of electricity skittering and playing around her fingers. “My Otherworld.”