I studied Tibris as he pressed a kiss to Mama’s forehead and took a seat at the table. The crease between his brows told me he was angry. And the paper clutched in his hand told me why.
Ever since Tibris’s friend Vicer had passed his Testing—with enough magic to be plucked from our village and sent to the city to apply for work, my brother had been even quieter than usual.
The letters he sent and received from Vicer were written in the same code we’d created as children. Back then, Vicer and Tibris had included me in all their plans, and I’d been privy to every secret note and hushed word. I’d trailed after them—usually with Asinia at my side—and Tibris had tolerated us with the put-upon sighs perfected by older brothers everywhere.
But these letters were different. For reasons he wouldn’t explain, Tibris refused to allow me to read them. Of course, the more secretive he was, the more curious I became. If Vicer was in trouble, I wanted to help.
I watched Tibris frown down at the letter in his hand. Now, he would likely brood for days. “I’ll go bathe.” He wandered out.
I attempted to get some answers from my mother one last time. “Mama…is there something I need to know?”
Water sounded from the other room. Tibris was filling his bath with cold water.
Mama would tell me if the king’s assessor was going to come looking for me. So what had she seen? Why was she so shaken?
Her eyes filled, and she shook her head mutely.
Seers had rules in place. Because sometimes, to tell someone their future was to bring about a fate that was much, much worse. Dread flowed into my gut and stayed there.
“I’m tired,” Mama said.
“Let me help you to bed.”
“I can do it. Good night, darling.”
I made my way back into the main room, which also served as Tibris’s bedroom. From the splashing coming from the bathing room, I knew he was still busy. But he’d left the letter from Vicer on the small, rickety table near his bed.
I shouldn’t. We weren’t children anymore. Tibris deserved his privacy. And yet…clearly, something was seriously wrong. It was my duty as his sister to help him—even if he didn’t particularly want that help.
Besides, my brother had no problem pushing his way into my life whenever he felt the need. He was forever trying to protect me, but maybe this time, I could actually help him for once.
I peered down at the letter, hands behind my back. But it had been too long since I’d last read our code, and translating it would take some time.
I did recognize one word, though.
“Prisca.” Tibris plucked the letter from the table and glowered at me.
I jolted. My brother could occasionally move like a cat.
“Why is Vicer writing to you about Crawyth?”
Tibris’s face went white with fury. “Stay the fuck out of my things.”
Stung, I reared back. Tibris had never spoken to me that way.
“Children?” Mama called from her room.
I stared at my brother. “I’m coming, Mama.”
Tibris shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“Forget about it.”
“Pris—”
“It’s okay.” I had, after all, been invading his privacy. He could keep his secrets.
He grabbed my arm. “Are you free for training tomorrow after you finish at the bakery?”
I attempted a smile. Tibris had insisted on teaching me what he’d learned as soon as he’d begun training himself. I’d spent more hours than I could count wrestling with his friends and learning to use the element of surprise.
“Sure.”
The rest of the evening passed quietly. Both Tibris and Mama fell asleep earlier than usual, and I lay awake, continually picturing the king’s assessor knocking on our door.
When I did finally sleep, my dreams were unsurprising.
The man had blazing green eyes and a full mouth that curved into a feral grin. He stared back at me with one eyebrow raised as if in challenge. Yet every time I reached for him, he drifted farther away. And when I could no longer see him, it felt as if my heart might break.
I woke with the sun, restless and…sad.
Hauling myself out of bed, I dressed, ate breakfast, and stared out the window, my eyes gritty and dry.
Tibris was already in the kitchen. He’d be out healing in a few hours unless someone came to him with an emergency.
My brother had passed his Testing two winters ago, and thanks to his ability to heal small wounds and sicknesses—along with my work at the bakery—we’d almost paid off our debt to our creditors. As soon as that happened, we could start saving for our future, and our family could leave this village. My chest ached at the thought.