Page 51 of The Girl in the Forest

Real, Noa?

I couldn’t decide.

But this was a test, wasn’t it? And I was here for an answer. We needed to read a book. Lives depended upon it, and I asked, “Where is the closest living faille?”

“Close,” the witch to my left said, while the other added, “But you will not find what you seek.”

“Why not?”

“You have not asked the right question.”

This conversation was going in circles. Perhaps it was a game they played, and I wondered how long I’d need to play before they gave me anything useful.

But it could also be the gibberish Grayson warned about, and I stepped back. “What is the right question?”

“Why he stands in your way.”

“What he hides from you.”

“Why you bear his mark.”

“What he intends to do.”

The voices bounced back and forth until I wondered if I spoke to two witches or only one.

I breathed in, breathed out.

“I’ve come to ask a question,” I repeated. “Where is the closest living faille?”

“We have told you what to ask.”

My knee gave out, jolting as if I’d been hit from behind even though I’d felt no impact. Perhaps it was the sand or my weakened ankle throwing me off balance. I changed my stance, turned away to study the cave.

Etchings moved on the walls, squirming like snakes. Fumes pumped from the vent; the thickening scent of honeysuckle turned my stomach. My thoughts scattered until I remembered Grayson telling me about the fumes…

Like white liquor, Noa.

I bit hard on my lip; pain cleared my thoughts enough for me to realize… there was a problem, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. I knew the sand was shifting because the mica glittered like stars falling in the night. The torchiers shimmered with a smear of black near the edges.

I blinked. Breathed shallowly.

Took a step back.

The voices started up again, clanging like bells.

“He wants the book… he cannot read it… it is spelled against the kings… and all those wicked enough to descend from them.”

The information alarmed me, and I blurted, “Is it spelled against failles?”

The red lips flicked upward in unison. Flicked again, so clearly identical that instinct kicked in—was I arguing with an illusion, and not witches?

Leave, Noa.

The warning beat hard in my mind. But I would not leave now that they’d given information I could use. If the kings couldn’t read the book… maybe it was foolish, but I was too close to the answers to let this moment pass.

“If you don’t like my question,” I said, “then why should I want your answers?”

The witches hissed with their lips twitching.

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