Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

S ybilla gave us paper from her stores and replaced my waterlogged ink. She gave us food from her kitchen, and a sword that had previously hung as decoration in the bedroom I never slept in, and a bottle of wine to offer the outlaws. Because, as she said, "It's harder for someone to feel justified in killing you if you offer them a gift first."

I wasn't sure if this logic would work on Mathias (he didn't seem the type to be won over by hostess gifts), but wine wasn't something I ever refused. It went in my bag.

Sybilla also gave us Beaugard. Not to keep, of course, but because the wolf was the only one of us who knew where in the forest the outlaws made their home. She knelt down in front of Beau before we left, hands buried in the thick fur around his neck, and stared deeply into his eyes. I would have started to feel a little seasick, peering into those swirling silver depths, but Sybilla stayed like that for several minutes before getting to her feet and patting the wolf's head in a satisfied manner.

"Are you certain he'll know where to go?" I asked doubtfully.

"Beau and I understand each other," Sybilla said. "How do you think I told him to find you in the first place? Now, I know your pockets are already well stocked, but I have one more thing for each of you." She reached into her coat and drew out a sealed envelope, which she handed to Grimm. "This will be better than the standard nausea spells in a first aid kit. I wrote it specifically to quell the side effects of traveling with Beau, so you don't arrive at the outlaw camp as green as the trees."

Grimm looked faintly embarrassed but took the envelope. "Thank you."

Next, Sybilla retrieved a wrapped bundle that had been left sitting on one of the sofas and handed it to me. Upon unfolding the brown paper, I discovered a freshly pressed scriver's sash and a sorcerer's coat. It was only identifiable by the many pockets, for the fabric was a deep emerald green rather than the traditional black.

"I had this commissioned many years ago," Sybilla said, "when I thought green was my color. A serious lapse in judgment on my part, but it might as well be to someone's benefit. Go ahead, try it on."

I was doubtful that something meant to fit Sybilla's small stature would work for me, but in this I was proven delightfully wrong, for the coat shifted as soon as I swung it over my shoulders, lengthening to fit my longer torso and arms.

"I may have added a few of my own notions to the design," Sybilla said with a wink. "It suits you."

"Thank you," I told her sincerely. "I'll do my best not to destroy this one, I promise."

"Pshh, I'm not your keeper! What happens to you beyond this tower is no concern of mine."

"You'll miss me, admit it."

She looked at me archly. "Believe it or not, I have forms of entertainment other than you. There are doors in this tower you have yet to see, and they don't all lead to empty memories, or memories at all. If you ever decide to come back and visit, perhaps I will show them to you."

"I'd like that," I said, and found that it was true. Someday, I could see myself calling on the tower again for no reason other than Sybilla's company. I thought I should like to be here without the threat of the curse hanging over my head, free to explore the mysteries of the tower.

"Come now," Sybilla said, eyes twinkling. "Give me a kiss goodbye."

I leaned down and kissed her cheek. As I did, she whispered in my ear, "I hope someday to meet a version of Leovander Loveage who doesn't believe everyone else's well-being is dependent on what he denies himself. Come back to me, when that's the case, and we will craft magic to make the world weep with delight."

I drew back without replying, and Sybilla turned to Grimm. She shook his hand quite properly, but then, much to my surprise, she leaned forward and whispered something in his ear as well. I was intensely curious to know what was said, but Grimm's expression gave nothing away.

"Farewell to you both," Sybilla said, before ushering Beaugard forward to stand between us.

Beau tilted his head to look up at me, tongue lolling. For the first time I spared a moment to think about the fact that we were returning not just to the outlaws but to the forest itself, whose strangeness we had only scratched the surface of. The monsters out there were not all like Beau, happy to do our bidding.

"Changed your mind?" Grimm asked in a low voice.

Pushing my unease aside, I laid my hand firmly on Beau's furry head. "Of course not. This is our way forward, I'm certain of it."

I thought Grimm might say something else. It looked as though he wanted to. But then he bowed his head and rested his hand beside mine.

This was Grimm yielding, I thought, just as the world rearranged itself.

The first thing to come back into being was the ever-present wan green glow of the forest.

We stood underneath the low-hanging boughs of sap trees, their drying needles scattered on the ground beneath our feet, quieting our steps. The air smelled like resin, familiar, but sweeter and sharper than the rosin in my pocket. To our left, the trees thinned enough to allow glimpses of patchy gray sky. To our right, the trees remained thick, but a faint path wound its way through them. It looked like someone had made a half-hearted effort to sweep needles back over the dirt, and this more than the path itself told me it was made by human feet.

"Good job, Beau," I said, and patted the wolf's head.

Beside me, Grimm reached hastily into his pocket for the envelope Sybilla had given him. He was not quick enough to avoid throwing up his breakfast behind the closest tree, but smoke rose from his hands soon after. By the time Grimm turned back around, the casting had taken effect, wiping away the misery from his face. He was only a little pale now, instead of outright sallow.

"If we're close, someone may have heard the sound of our arrival," he said. "We should be quick."

I stood still as Grimm cast a spell over my new coat to deflect attacks. This sort of magic was normally used over armor, not simple fabric, but when Grimm tossed a stone at me, it bounced off my sleeve without me feeling the impact. I doubted it would turn aside a blade, but it was better than nothing. Grimm cast the same spell over his own coat, then a different one over our swords to prevent them being taken from us by force. After that, he folded more spells and tucked them between the fingers of his left hand, ready to be used at an instant's notice.

Once all this was done, Grimm knelt down in front of Beau, who had sat back on his haunches to watch our preparations with interest.

"Time for you to go home," Grimm said.

The wolf whined, low in his throat. He lifted one giant paw and rested it briefly on Grimm's knee. Then there was one last pop , and we were alone. The forest seemed to press closer around us.

"Let's go," I said, and started for the path. Better we find the outlaw camp before I lost my nerve.

Grimm kept his sword drawn as we walked the path, but I left mine sheathed. My battle was to be fought with words, and if I did my job well, both the steel and the magic Grimm held would be unnecessary.

After about five minutes of walking, the trees around us shifted from the tall, rough-barked pines to a grove of red-leaved trees with dark gray trunks. Normally the sight of brightly colored branches would have been cheerful, but like most things in the Unquiet Wood, the effect was skewed somehow. The fluttering leaves were the scarlet of fresh blood, and the trees held on to them greedily, so that the ground we walked upon was undecorated except for ropy roots that buckled the soil here and there. The light beneath the branches washed everything in somber, uncanny mauve.

Grimm held up a hand to catch my attention, then pointed his sword at a thin black line, running along the ground ahead of us, charred into the dirt.

A perimeter alarm.

I'd seen this spell before, during my time training with the Coterie. It would not stop anything passing through it, but its caster would hear a warning bell in their mind if anything—human, monster, or animal—crossed over the line.

Grimm frowned at the line of soot by his feet. "I would prefer to get one or two of them alone first, to explain ourselves."

"We could wait here all day for one of them to emerge," I whispered back. "Perhaps it's better to get this over with quickly. What do you say, Grimm?" I winked. "Shall we make an entrance?"

Grimm glanced up at the sliver of sky visible above us. It was already well into the day, and night fell quickly here. He took a moment to adjust the spells in his hand, moving one so that it was pinched ready between his thumb and forefinger. Then he nodded to me.

Heart in my throat, I plunged over the line.

Speed was more important than subtlety now, so we both began to run. Ahead of us, I heard the first shout of alarm, and Grimm, who had been keeping pace with me, lunged ahead, so that he was the one in front as we broke free of the trees and into a light-filled clearing.

A strange sight greeted us. The outlaws had made their camp up against a sheer rock face that rose up almost as high as the trees. Against that they had built a series of ramshackle platforms with ladders running up to them. Tents were pitched on these platforms, with makeshift plank bridges interconnecting them. Other signs of habitation were scattered around the clearing: a firepit with coals still glowing at its center, laundry hanging on a line strung between two platform supports, and (surprisingly) an upturned patch of earth that looked to be someone's attempt at the world's saddest garden.

I didn't have time to notice anything else before the outlaws came for us. There were at least three of them, and they'd clearly all stopped whatever they were doing the instant the alarm had been called in order to pick up the nearest sharp object.

Four of them, I amended, as an arrow came flying at us from one of the upper platforms.

Coterie members (even rogue ones) are not known for their lack of precision. The arrow was aimed at Grimm's chest and would have hit there, were it not for the already smoking spell in Grimm's hand. Instead of piercing his heart, the arrow bounced off the air directly in front of him and fell to the ground, harmless. But shielding spells were difficult to maintain.

"Hold your fire!" I flung my hands up to show the advancing outlaws I held no weapon. "We mean you no harm. We've come to talk to Jayne."

Another arrow bounced off our shield, and Grimm sucked in a sharp breath and began to cast out loud, a sure sign of strain. I looked up in time to catch sight of the archer, just a dark shape peeking out from one of the tents above. When I looked back down, two of the outlaws on the ground were a few feet away from us, swords drawn.

"Who are you?" the taller of the two asked. "How did you get here?" Her eyes were wide with alarm.

"We're looking for Jayne," I said again, then winced as another arrow hit the shield. Grimm gritted his teeth and spoke a little louder, the spell in his hand billowing black smoke.

"Please," I said desperately. "Call off your archer so we can talk. I've come to make a deal with Jayne. If I could just talk with her, I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement that doesn't involve us turning into pincushions, or you being on the receiving end of the other spells my friend here has tucked away in his hand."

Grimm held nothing but defensive spells, but they didn't need to know that.

"Also, we have wine!" I pulled the bottle Sybilla had given us out of my bag and then rolled it on the ground toward the outlaws, who looked at it with apparent confusion.

A fourth arrow rained down to poke another hole in Grimm's shield, so that didn't bode well for Sybilla's gift theory.

Without giving myself too much time to think about it, I stepped forward. If it was Mathias shooting (as I suspected), my red sash might make him pause—I was the one he and Jayne had wanted, after all—but before another arrow could be either loosed or held, someone broke through the trees on our right.

Sunlight flashed off golden hair and naked steel, a green cloak billowed, and then Jayne was shouting, "Hold!" She arrived in front of us slightly breathless, did a double take upon seeing Grimm and me, and said, "You're alive. I was certain the river claimed you."

Grimm chose that moment to let the first shield spell fall to ash and began casting the next one. His muttering in the old language continued behind me, comforting in its steadiness.

"Nearly." I glanced pointedly up to Mathias (for it was him), who had emerged from his hiding spot in one of the tents and stood at the edge of the platform looking down at us, expression stony. "This certainly didn't help matters." I shook back the sleeve of my coat to show Jayne my arm. The wound there had begun to heal during our time in the tower, but it would undoubtedly scar.

She had either enough grace or enough guile to look chagrined. "That was a mistake." Just as I had placed myself in front of Grimm, Jayne angled herself so that the three outlaws on the ground were behind her. Her sword was not raised, but her free hand was in her pocket, almost certainly clutching a spell. "What do you want, Leovander Loveage? For I don't think it's a coincidence that our paths have crossed twice. We are not so easy to find as all that."

Mathias was making his way down the ladder, crossbow slung across his back. Somehow the thought of him coming within speaking distance made me even more nervous than the thought of him shooting at us from afar.

"The feather," I blurted, urgency making me blunt. "When we first met, you said you were in possession of a griffin feather. We have need of one. Do you still have it?"

"We might," Jayne said calmly, just as her brother reached her side. "But why would we give such an item to you? Do you have something to offer in return?" Jayne nudged the slightly muddy bottle of wine with her boot tip. "Something useful ."

I spread my arms wide, addressing not only Jayne but the wary people at her back. "Myself. You said you wanted spells written, well here I am, a scriver at your service. Give us what we need, and in return I will scrive whatever magic you lack. Provided it is not something that could be used to harm others," I added hastily. Grimm had been very clear on that point. We would not supply the words to any spells that might be used against the people of Miendor.

"I asked for your help before," Jayne said, hand still in her pocket. "You threw yourself into the river rather than deal with—what did you call us? Oh yes, thieves and oath breakers."

"Grimm's words, not mine," I said. "But I think he can be forgiven, since at the time you were threatening his life. ‘We don't need both of them,' wasn't that what your brother said?"

Mathias didn't so much as blink at the reminder, but Jayne's eyebrows shot upward. "You thought we were going to kill him?"

I hesitated. "At the time I did, yes. You must admit, the words had a distinct murdery feel to them."

Jayne took her hand from her pocket. I'd been right, she was holding a spell, but it wasn't smoking yet. She held it up for me to see. "It's a memory spell. We've had cause to use them a few times since setting up camp here, as a means of protection. We sent the other foragers who stumbled upon this place on their way none the wiser. That was what I was going to use on your friend." Jayne sighed and stuffed the spell away again. "I doubt it would work on either of you now, though. Memory spells are tricky to begin with, and you've had days to cement our encounter in your mind. How did you find our camp, anyway?"

"We had some help," I admitted. "From the sorcerer."

Jayne's eyes widened. "So you found her. And won her aid. Impressive. Yet you still came looking for us."

"The sorcerer isn't a forager. She couldn't give us everything we needed. Can you?"

Jayne didn't reply right away. We stood facing one another, and the only sound was Grimm's voice, little more than a hoarse whisper. The smoke around us was lesser than it had been before, as the strength of the spell faded. I tried to remember how many shield spells I had scrived and could not.

"We would need to agree on some strict terms," Jayne said eventually. "Not just for the exchange but what would happen after. We can't allow stories of our presence here to leak back into Miendor. But…"

"Jayne," Mathias said in a low voice, clearly unhappy with the direction this was going. "That feather is worth more than we could forage in a year."

"And ten times as difficult to sell without attracting notice," Jayne said, a touch of impatience creeping into her tone. "We need to be practical, Matt. It's not only up to me, of course, but I think we need the spells more than we need the coin."

She looked pointedly to the other members of the troop, who in turn exchanged glances with one another.

"I would like some spells for the garden," the man admitted. "There are charms that would keep pests away."

"Never mind your garden!" the tall woman said. "We need protection bubbles and alarm cantrips. Not to mention first aid spells, and enough heating charms to get us through the winter here without freezing."

These weren't at all the sorts of spells I'd been worried they might ask for, which was a relief. Even Grimm would have a hard time arguing that charms to keep tents warm or discourage pests were the sort of things that could be used for violence or grand larceny.

Jayne turned back to us, smiling slightly. "As you can see, our needs are varied, but we can supply a list. Write the spells we ask for, as well as a magical contract stating you won't speak a word of us after you cross back over the border, and the feather is yours."

At her side, Mathias briefly closed his eyes in defeat. When he opened them, his face wore an expression of long-suffering resignation. I wondered if, in every duo, there was one person more likely to plunge ahead, tugging the second in their wake like flotsam.

Jayne held out her hand, fingertips coming up short against the edge of our shield. "Do we have a deal?"

I glanced back and nodded to Grimm. He began to taper his casting off slowly, clearly reluctant to let the magic lapse, despite the strain. Once the smoke was fully cleared, I turned back around and took Jayne's hand without hesitation.

"I believe we do."

While Jayne disappeared into one of the tents to begin writing the spell list and Mathias glowered watchfully at us from a distance, the three remaining outlaws put away their weapons to fumble through introductions. The tall woman was Geraldine, and the short one with the round face was Camilla. The man so concerned about the garden was called Dodge. They seemed more nervous than unhappy with our presence, all uneasy silences and unreadable glances among themselves.

"A pleasure to meet you," I said, sweeping a half bow, as though we had met at a party, instead of while brandishing weapons at one another. "I am Leovander Loveage, and my traveling companion here is Sebastian Grimm." I looked around the camp with interest. "This is a very nice setup you've got."

Geraldine and Dodge looked a little suspicious of this, perhaps suspecting I was making fun of them, but Camilla brightened.

"We started building the platforms our first week here," she said, gesturing to the towering structure against the rocks. "The height doesn't keep all monsters away, of course, but it helps. They're interested in any scrap of unfamiliar magic, you see, and these tents have all sorts of charms woven into the fabric. At least with them up high, the beasties aren't as inclined to notice and come sniffing. Although, by now so many of the charms have worn off they might not care anymore. But we've got you to fix that!"

Camilla was the one to lead us up the rickety platform ladder to a tent. Staying the night hadn't been part of my original plan, but I couldn't see a way around it. The deal had been made, and I was quite certain Mathias wouldn't allow us out of his sight until we'd signed the contract ensuring our silence. There was an unsettling intensity to his gaze that made Grimm look positively cheerful by comparison, which was saying something.

Our tent was on the second level of platforms. It smelled a little musty ("Air freshening cantrips," Camilla muttered. "I'll have to make sure Jayne remembers to put those on the list.") and was clearly being used for storage, but there was enough room among the crates for me and Grimm to lay down our blankets. The ragged remains of whatever heating spell had been woven into the tent's fabric meant that the air was at least a little warmer, and a rather clever dimensional spell allowed both of us to stand upright while inside. The tent I'd been given while traveling with the Coterie the year before had been much the same, and it granted our strange surroundings a sense of familiarity.

"How did you get all of this up here?" I asked, nudging a crate with my boot.

"Pulley system," Camilla said promptly. "Mathias came up with it after Dodge nearly broke his neck trying to haul lumber for a bedframe up to his tent. We've come up with all sorts of ways to make living out here comfortable." She stopped and made a face. "Or at least we were fairly comfortable, until the heat spells on the tents started failing. Geraldine's started calling me a limpet on account of how close I cling at night, but I can't help it. The blood just doesn't want to go to my fingers and toes when it gets cold. Oh! You're a musician?" Her eyes had lit up, fixed on my violin case.

"I am."

"It's been ever so long since we've had any music," she said wistfully. "Gerry has a lovely voice, and I used to have a penny whistle, but I think Dodge hid it somewhere. I miss…" Camilla let the words trail off, then looked back to us, flustered. "Never mind all that," she said quickly. "Find a place for your things and we can get back to the others. They probably have the fire going by now."

She looked expectantly at Grimm, who still held his pack.

"I will keep my things with me," he said.

He spoke without inflection, but the meaning was clear: He would not leave his belongings behind while we were among thieves.

Camilla's face fell. "Suit yourself," she said. "You can come down when you're ready."

She was nearly out of the tent when I called out, "Wait!"

I rifled through my pockets for quill and paper, then scribbled out a heating charm. I had to dig deep in my memory for a few words, but Grimm was glaring at me so hard I didn't dare ask him. I blew briefly on the wet ink and then handed the spell to Camilla.

"No doubt Jayne is asking for a stack of these," I said. "But no reason for you to suffer tonight."

A bit of the glow came back into her rounded cheeks. "Thank you," she said softly.

Once the tent flaps had closed behind her, I turned on Grimm.

"Must you conduct yourself in a way that entices people to stab you in your sleep? I, the person who's sharing a tent with you, will be quite peeved if we're murdered simply because you couldn't be polite."

"We're not here to make friends," Grimm said sullenly.

"I'm not trying to make enemies either. If we're going to be stuck here for a day, we may as well try to be pleasant." I looked at Grimm, who stood scowling with one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other clenched at his side, and amended my words to "Civil, at the very least."

We ate around the fire that night, and if it was not a relaxed affair, at least most of the outlaws seemed to agree that it should not be entirely unfriendly either. The bottle of wine went a long way toward easing tensions, so maybe Sybilla hadn't been entirely wrong. By the time dusk faded into full night, we'd all settled into a wary sort of truce, except for Mathias and Grimm, who drank not a drop and sat on opposite sides of the fire wearing sour expressions, like twin bookends of disapproval.

Jayne had yet to emerge from her tent. I was beginning to wonder if I should have set a limit to the number of spells I was willing to scrive. How many spells was a feather worth, anyway? I hadn't thought to ask.

"Camilla says you play violin, Mr. Loveage," Geraldine said. She had a soft sort of voice, a little at odds with her towering frame.

"I do. Shall I fetch it? I'd be happy to play a few songs around the fire."

A flash of longing crossed Geraldine's face, but then she looked toward the tree line and shook her head. "Best not. It's better not to attract attention in the dark."

We had been spoiled by the magic of Sybilla's tower, forgetting that fear was an inherent part of nighttime in this place. Now I was all too aware of how small a circle the firelight cast and the vast presence of the surrounding forest. The atmosphere grew tense and quiet once more. No one protested when Mathias said gruffly, "Put the fire out; we've let it burn longer than is wise already."

Jayne finally appeared as Dodge was escorting us back to our tent with a lantern. She carried with her a sizable stack of papers, which she offered to me.

"Your list. I wrote down the type of each spell required, as well as the quantity. I also took the privilege of outlining the terms of our contract, so you could begin writing that as well. And before you ask"—she reached into her pocket and withdrew something that glinted in the flickering light of the torch—"I thought you might like to see what your work is purchasing."

The feather lay across Jayne's palm, a marvel of delicately wrought gold.

"It's metal," I said, and my voice came out hushed.

"It transforms once shed," Jayne explained. "But you can always tell the difference between the real thing and any replicas. Look." She tilted the feather closer so I could make out the line of each individual barb. She was right, even a master would have trouble crafting something with this intricate level of detail. When I ran one finger along the feather's edge, I felt the faint thrum of magic.

Jayne slipped the feather back into her pocket. "It's yours upon delivery of spells and the signing of the contract."

I flipped through the papers she'd given me until I found the one detailing the parameters of our contract. Once signed, Grimm and I would not be able to tell anyone about Jayne and her troop, or their place of residence. In fact, the contract stated that none of our doings in the forest or related to the forest were to be spoken of.

I read it through, then looked over it again more carefully, giving Grimm a chance to finish reading over my shoulder.

"Very thorough," he said finally.

"I can't take any chances with the safety of my troop," Jayne said. "A good captain is always thorough."

"A good captain would not have led her people here in the first place," Grimm said.

Jayne's eyes widened in surprise and something like pain. A muscle in her jaw twitched.

"Well," she said in a brittle sort of voice. "We are none of us good all the time. Excuse me. The first watch tonight is mine."

It was fortunate we had only a few more planks to clamber across before we reached our tent, because Dodge looked tempted to leave us in the dark after that. He kept shooting murderous glances Grimm's way and muttered something unintelligible in reply when I bid him good night.

I waited until we'd ducked into our tent before punching Grimm on the shoulder. "What part of ‘be civil' did you not understand? If someone's charmed your blankets to strangle you, I won't be at all surprised. Or sympathetic."

"And yet you're sympathetic to them?" Grimm asked, voice dangerously low.

The truth was, I did feel something remarkably like sympathy blooming in my chest. I'd expected a camp full of people like Mathias, but Camilla and the others didn't seem so bad. Just tired, and afraid. Yet it was impossible to forget Phade's limp, or that my brother's arm had been held in a sling the last time I saw him.

Scared people were capable of terrible things. I should know.

"Must we argue about this now?" I asked tiredly. "I know what they've done and you know what they've done, but we're here and we have a job to do. The sooner we get it finished, the sooner we can leave. Can we agree on that much, at least?"

It seemed we could. There was a small lantern in the tent that, when lit, cast enough light for us to look over Jayne's extensive list. I breathed a sigh of relief that all the Grandmagic spells she wanted were familiar to either Grimm or myself, so I would not have to explain that I could not compose my own. In fact, there were relatively few of them, with charms and cantrips making up the vast majority of the list. I found this perplexing until I remembered how the outlaws had earned their reputation—who knew how many powerful spells they had grabbed from the vault before they fled? They were able to stop monsters in their tracks but couldn't cast anything to keep themselves from freezing in winter.

In the end, there were only a few charms that neither of us could recall, but their purpose seemed straightforward.

"I can compose my own version easily enough," I said. "It will take more time, but not much. We should be able to get through the entire list tomorrow."

"All of them?" Grimm asked.

I waggled my eyebrows at Grimm suggestively. "Gracious, are you questioning my stamina? You needn't. I may be good for naught but writing frivolities, but I've a strong right hand."

"Glad to hear it," Grimm said dryly, but I noted with delight that his ears had turned decidedly pink.

"Most of these spells aren't even that taxing to scrive," I continued in a more serious tone. "I see now why my brother's friend was thinking of recruiting me during the trials. Everyone in the Coterie makes a fuss about Grandmagic, but when it comes right down to it, they mostly want charms to stop your socks getting wet or keep bugs out of your tent, and that's what I'm best at."

There was a long silence. Then Grimm said, "You had an offer of recruitment?"

I froze in the process of shuffling through the papers, cursing myself inwardly. "Ah, nothing official. I overheard something I shouldn't have at my father's party. Anyway, I'm fairly certain the scene I made that night changed his mind about my potential usefulness. Which is for the best."

"Is it?" Grimm asked skeptically. "You could be good at this, if you let yourself be."

I knew that. Of course I knew it. It's why I had made a fool of myself in front of that captain in the first place. It wasn't that I didn't want to say yes; I was just afraid of what would happen if I did.

"If there was no danger of me writing anything but charms, maybe you'd be right. But what happens when I get a little too cocky and compose something bigger than I meant to? In the heat of the moment, if I let myself get complacent, people could be hurt. You said it yourself, I'm reckless."

"With yourself," Grimm said. "Not with others. That town with the silver rot is certainly better off for you having been there. If it's harm that you're looking to avoid, you might consider that more people could suffer for your absence than some supposed bit of negligence you've yet to commit."

I couldn't think of anything to say in reply to that so I just sat there, blinking, wondering what this meant about how Grimm saw me. It felt very much like revisiting the judgment Grimm had laid upon me when I first told him I had no intention of joining the Coterie. Only this time, instead of resignation at my unwillingness, he was trying to peel aside some curtain long left closed.

I wished he wouldn't. It felt too much like kindness, which I wasn't equipped to handle. Not from Grimm.

Having said his piece, Grimm turned down the lantern and prepared to sleep. The tent was so crowded that our bedrolls lay scant inches apart, which I did my best to stop thinking about, with limited success.

I should have let us argue. It would have been better, I thought, to fall asleep with both of us fuming than to lie inches apart, trying not to imagine what it would be like to roll over and shatter that last bit of distance. Eventually I stopped trying altogether and let my thoughts do as they pleased, since the rest of me could not.