Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I awoke in the dark with a warm body pressed up against my left side and a hand covering my mouth.

"Please be quiet," Grimm whispered against my ear. "There is something outside the tent."

There were hardly any good options for what could be lurking outside at this time of night, but that wasn't the reason for my pounding heart. Sleep left me vulnerable, more apt to listen to the steady flow of magic under my skin, and every part of me wanted to lean into Grimm. I wanted to bury my face in the crook of his neck and inhale. I wanted to press my lips to the junction of throat and jaw and feel his pulse stutter. If I just let myself—

I licked Grimm's palm. It was both a relief and a disappointment when he jerked his hand away.

"Please behave," he said sternly, which did nothing to help matters and, in fact, illuminated rather more of my own inner psyche than I was comfortable being aware of.

Grimm wiped his hand on the front of my shirt and then moved away, which was what I had wanted and was also the worst thing to have ever happened. I did my best to blink both sleep and longing from my eyes before following him to crouch by the door of the tent.

Carefully, Grimm began to undo the ties holding it shut.

"Don't open it!" I whispered. The magic on the tent was faded, but it still provided some protection against the creatures of the forest.

"I think it's one of them ," Grimm whispered back. "The outlaws. I heard footsteps." He finished untying the door, and we both leaned forward to peer through the sliver of parted fabric.

Sitting on the walkway leading to our tent was a dark shape. Nighttime rendered most features unrecognizable, but the crossbow he held was easy enough to place.

Mathias was outside our tent.

He sat propped against the railing, still and watchful. His crossbow was not pointing at anything, only resting by his side, but that was enough to make a shiver run down my spine. Whatever the reason he was here, I was willing to bet it wasn't in our best interest. Perhaps he was laying breadcrumbs to lead the monsters to our door.

I tried to lean forward for a better look, but Grimm put a hand on my shoulder to stop me just as the faint brush of boots over wood sounded.

Someone else was approaching our platform.

Grimm reached into his pocket and drew out several spells. Was this how it would be? Had the outlaws pretended welcome only to ambush us in the night? But when the second figure appeared, they sat down beside Mathias without even glancing our way.

"I had first watch tonight, not you."

Jayne's voice was faint but recognizable. She said something else, and Mathias's voice rumbled low in response. I couldn't make out a word of it.

Frustrated, I turned to Grimm. "I want to hear what they're saying," I murmured, before leaning in close to hum a spellsong in his ear.

I had not used this spell since I was very young, listening at keyholes, but the tune came back to me quickly. There weren't words, just a melody for the magic to cling to. It was all I dared to cast as a child. If I took advantage of the situation slightly by drawing the last notes out longer than necessary, just so I could linger with my lips nearly brushing the curved shell of Grimm's ear… well, no one was to know but me. And perhaps Grimm, who looked at me a moment before beginning to cast. I was grateful it was too dark to interpret his expression.

He hummed, and what little sound the spellsong made was quickly consumed by magic.

There was a beat, then everything around us became loud. The sounds of the forest, each call of a night bird or whisper of wind through the trees. The rustle of Grimm's and my clothing. The unsettling creak of the platform we were on. It was enough to make you want to clap your hands over your ears, but Mathias's and Jayne's voices were there in the midst of it all, and with a bit of effort I was able to focus on them.

"There are ways around a contract, you know that," Mathias was saying. "And the Loveage boy likely has the right connections to find those ways. You know who his father is."

"Yes, I know," Jayne said. "But in order to do that, they would have to admit to making a deal with us in the first place, signing the contract of their own free will. I can't imagine that's something they'll be eager to do. It would be a black mark against them." She hesitated. "Besides, it's worth the risk. We need those spells, Matt."

"I know. But inviting them into our camp…"

"Who invited them? Not me. But they're here now, and I think they mean to cooperate."

"You're too trusting."

Jayne chuckled softly. "And you're too quick to think ill of people. You worried about the foragers who found us too, and look, nothing has come of it. The memory spells held. The contract will hold too. This will be the same."

Mathias was quiet for a long time before saying, "Yes." The single word was heavier than I'd known a human voice could sound. "This will be the same."

Jayne persuaded him to abandon his vigil soon after that. Grimm and I watched them go before securing the door and returning to our blankets.

I stared at the peaked roof of our tent, waiting for the listening spell to wear off. Then I said, "I'm thinking that we shouldn't turn our backs on that one. What about you?"

"I wasn't planning to turn my back on any of them. But yes, I won't be surprised if Mathias makes trouble for us."

Grimm's words proved true in short order.

We rose early the next morning, not wanting to waste valuable time. After clambering down the platform, we discovered the outlaws grouped around the fire, carrying on a conversation that ceased as soon as our arrival was noted.

"Are we interrupting something?" I asked.

"No," Jayne said, at the same time as Mathias growled, "Yes."

The siblings looked at each other. I sensed that a wordless yet furious conversation was taking place. Jayne was the first to look away, biting her lip.

"We were discussing our foraging routes for the day," Mathias said. He looked pointedly at Grimm. "You'll be coming with us."

"He most definitely will not ." The words felt like they'd been pulled from me, an involuntary protest. There was no way I could be apart from Grimm that long now. Even the threat of such separation was enough to make my insides twinge with phantom pain. I shuddered to think what sort of state I would be in with him miles away.

Mathias looked unimpressed by my fervor. "He will. There are only five of us, and someone will have to remain behind to watch over you while you're scriving. I don't fancy one of us being outnumbered."

"Then you'll just have to leave two people behind to soothe your worries."

"It's harvest season in the woods too," Camilla explained. "Two people guarding you is two fewer sets of hands for our labors. Two sets of eyes that we don't have guarding our backs."

"Just so," Mathias said. "And you're not in a position to be making demands. This is our camp. Our rules."

"That may be true, but if you take Grimm, you won't get any spells." I smiled apologetically, except I didn't feel apologetic about it at all. "I did try to tell you before, during our discussion on the riverbank, but I'm an absolutely terrible scriver. Spells run right through my head. Grimm, on the other hand, has a fantastic memory. So, unless one of you is capable of reciting the words of every spell on the list you gave me, he will be staying here."

Mathias squinted at me. "You're lying."

"I promise you I'm not. I really won't be able to function without him." I was being perfectly honest, if not entirely truthful.

"Dodge and I will stay with them," Jayne said, and held up a hand when Mathias opened his mouth to protest. "I fought off a snapbark last week, Matt; please don't insult me by implying I couldn't handle these two. One day with a few less hands will be worth what we're getting."

For all that they were a band of ragtag outlaws hiding in the woods, Jayne still spoke like a Coterie captain, and her crew responded as thus. Even Mathias let the issue drop with only a somewhat threatening final look in our direction.

I thought this was more for show than anything else. Mathias didn't actually fear what we would do while in their camp—he was worried about what would happen once we were allowed to leave . A part of me couldn't help but think that taking Grimm foraging would have been the perfect opportunity for Mathias to ensure he never got a chance to push against the bounds of our contract. I didn't think the other outlaws would help him, but Mathias was sneaky, and the forest was dangerous. All sorts of accidents and tragedies took place under the cover of those leaves.

The same idea seemed to have occurred to Grimm, for he pulled me aside and said, "We should get started as soon as possible. I'd like to be gone before the others return to camp."

I heartily agreed. And so, it was with little fanfare that Grimm and I sat ourselves down to begin our work. An empty crate became my desk, placed by the fire to ward off the day's brisk air. I took more care than usual rolling up my sleeves, so that I would not have to waste time rewriting smudged words. Grimm, in addition to reciting the spells I could not recall, was in charge of whisking away the spells as they were completed, replacing them with blank paper.

In Sybilla's tower, my attention had wavered constantly. But now, with our clock winding down, I was uncommonly focused. The promise of the feather being ours soon was like having the biggest, brightest carrot dangled in front of my usual donkey brain, allowing me to put my head down and plow through spell after spell without distraction. I was aware of things in the camp moving around us, of Mathias leaving with Camilla and Geraldine, of the steady sound of Jayne's axe as she chopped more wood for the fire, of Dodge, watching us surreptitiously from the garden, but all of that was distant compared to the sound of Grimm's voice and the sight of the words in front of me.

It was well into the afternoon when my hand began to ache enough that I called for a break. The rest of me ached a little too. Not the pain I felt when casting, but in the same way my muscles protested after I spent too long sparring with Agnes. Like I'd stretched myself. When Dodge showed up with food, I found myself ravenously hungry, as though I'd been running for miles instead of writing.

I was halfway through my plate before I noticed Dodge lingering. He was a tall man, but almost painfully thin. He didn't seem to know what to do with his limbs when he wasn't holding a sword or enacting some sort of task, and he looked awkward as he stood there, watching me.

"Something you need?"

"Yes," he said, looking relieved to have been asked. "There's a spell I would like added to the list."

"Something you didn't want to ask Jayne for?"

Dodge shook his head. "Something she would never ask for herself." From under his arm, he took a black bundle, shaking it open to reveal the tattered remains of a sorcerer's coat. The shape of it was familiar, as were the many pockets, but the dark fabric was marred by several slashes that nearly ripped the coat in two. The thin band of gold braid running around the collar and along the shoulders marked this garment as belonging to a captain.

I had wondered why Jayne was the only outlaw not wearing a sorcerer's coat. Here was my answer.

Dodge held the coat out to me, jaw set at a determined angle. "She said mending spells cost too much to be justified, but I know she misses wearing it."

I hesitated. Mending spells were, indeed, costly. Not quite Grandmagic, but fickle, specific work nonetheless. They had to be written with exactly what needed mending in mind, which meant that almost no two mending spells could be the same. I still had half the list to get through, and the coat was very damaged. When I held it, it didn't have the same weight that my own coat did. It would take me precious time to weave this back into a functional garment.

Dodge shifted back and forth on his feet and then said, all in a rush, "I heard what you said about her." He was looking at Grimm. "But she's not to blame for what happened. Jayne was—is—a good captain. Do you even know why we went to the library vaults in the first place? Do you know what we stole?"

Grimm looked back at him and said slowly, "I heard you stole many things. One of them nearly being my mentor's life."

Dodge's whole face seemed to fold in upon itself for a moment. Then, with visible effort, he collected himself and said, "Phade wasn't meant to be there. They surprised Mathias."

Grimm looked on the edge of saying something sharp in response, but I spoke first. "I heard you were looking for Titus's healing spell."

"That's right." Dodge pointed to the coat I held. "That happened when the Coterie sent our troop to refresh the spells on a portion of the barrier not too far from here. It's a common assignment. We could have cast those spells in our sleep, almost. But we didn't realize how far the magic in that section of the barrier had atrophied, and before we could finish the job, three monsters broke through. They killed our scriver, Mandin, and mangled Jayne so badly it was a miracle we got her back to the city alive."

I looked at the coat again, trying to imagine what the body that had worn it looked like after such an attack. All those loose threads and jagged edges didn't paint a pretty picture.

"The doctors told us there was nothing they could do. She was cut up too badly. Her insides all in pieces. But Mathias wasn't having it. He didn't ask us to come with him, you understand—he knew we had our own families outside the Coterie to think about. But we did anyway. We'd already lost one member of our troop; we were all willing to do anything not to lose another. And those spells were just sitting there!" Dodge's voice turned pleading, begging us to understand. "We asked first, but the Citadel said no, the spells in the library were being used for research. Years and years and no one has ever been able to do anything with them. They were meant to help people, but they were just gathering dust on a shelf! I'm not proud someone got hurt, but I'm also not sorry we took that spell to heal Jayne. Or the rest, to help us survive out here.

"She didn't have to come here with us, you know, after. She didn't do anything wrong, but when we had to run, she came with us. She's a good captain."

Dodge tilted his chin up, daring us to disagree.

I looked at the coat again. Despite its state of ruin, someone had still washed and pressed it, taken care of it even though they didn't expect it to be worn again.

"I'll add it to the list," I said.

Dodge's shoulders slumped a little. "Thank you."

He left after that, returning to his garden to pull up the frostbitten remains of his stunted plants in hopes that their next year in this place would be better. And the one after that. And the next. Looking at him, I could finally parse the desperate gleam I'd noticed in Jayne's eyes when we first met, and the reason she had dared to lure us into the woods after: She was trying to make a home for the people who had loved her enough to throw theirs away.

"This changes how you view them, doesn't it?" Grimm asked.

"Maybe," I admitted. "Does it not for you?"

Grimm's lips settled into a thin line, but I knew him well enough by now to recognize this was the expression he wore when he was feeling stubborn rather than truly sure of something. "It shouldn't. They acted desperately and selfishly."

"I think perhaps it is not so uncommon, to be selfish in the face of a loved one's pain." I looked down at my own hands as I spoke, rather than watching Grimm's face. I could still feel it when he understood my meaning. That subtle shift as he sat a little bit straighter.

I waited for him to argue. To say that it was still wrong. Because it was, I knew that. Plenty of people had died while Titus's spell sat on that shelf. The only thing that made Jayne different was that Mathias had refused to accept her fate. He had thought he could do better. I knew that urge.

It didn't make me like Mathias, but I thought I understood him a little more. If you'd already traded your whole life for one thing, it made sense you would be protective of it. That's what Mathias was, unreasonably protective of this place and these people, as though he could stop bad things happening to them ever again by lashing out at any threat, real or perceived.

Grimm was still quiet, so I picked up my pen and a fresh piece of paper. There were many items on the list that should come before this one, but the coat was right there, and I couldn't drag my attention away from it now. The neat split of it, nearly all the way through. It would only distract me if I tried to return to the list without fixing this first.

I'd never had reason to write mending spells before. I had sent many items away for someone else to fix and replaced many others without thought of the cost. But some things weren't so easy to replace. As I wrote my first mending spell, I thought of how sometimes you wanted to make something right for a person without them asking, and what that meant.