Page 70 of A Fractured Song

“Someone from the Council of Singers. Wanting to know more about us, and more about our property. Apparently,” Azai’s voice was like acid, “it was a very intentional decision for the survey to focus on our area first. And they were mystified and intrigued that of all the properties in the region, ours was the only one it failed to gather information about.”

Zev let out a breath. “That’s unlucky.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it!” Azai protested. “It was your actions, Zev, yours and that girl’s. If you’d left well enough alone, we wouldn’t be at more risk of exposure than we have been in two centuries.”

“Azai,” said Zev impatiently. “You’re quick to complain, but you don’t have any actual solutions to—”

“Here’s a solution,” said Azai darkly. He pushed himself up from the counter. “You should have left her dangling from that cliff.”

Anger flared in Zev, then abated as Azai swept past him and out of the room. He didn’t try to stop his brother, either to placate or to fight with him. What was the point?

Putting his elbows on the table, he rested his face in his hands, staring unseeingly at the barely touched food hismother had prepared for her family. A family that had once been happy and uncomplicated.

Uncomplicated.

It was a word that seemed to no longer apply to any part of Zev’s life.

Chapter

Eighteen

Marieke pulled the shawl more tightly about her shoulders to ward off the chill as she slipped out of her room. The garment had been hanging on the back of a rocking chair next to the bed. Hopefully she was allowed to use it.

She’d been surprised when she woke and realized that dawn hadn’t yet broken. She’d been so exhausted the night before that she’d half expected to sleep for two days. But after all, it had been early when she’d gone to bed. Apparently her body was sufficiently recovered by a solid night’s sleep, because while she still felt overwhelmed emotionally, she felt plenty strong physically.

Stronger than ever, in fact. Or perhaps that was just the memory of the canyon’s magic coursing through her. It was the most power she’d ever felt all at once. At the time, she’d been fighting too desperately for survival to fully appreciate it. But in memory, it was intoxicating.

The corridor was hushed as she walked toward the stairs, the creaking of the floorboards making her wince. It seemed she’d risen first, but familiar as she was with farm life, she knew that the others wouldn’t be far behind. She wanted to beout of the house before anyone else emerged. She needed fresh air and solitude to clear her head.

The soft cluck of a sleepy chicken greeted her as she crossed the farmyard. The air was bitterly cold, no touch of sun yet having reached it. Marieke made her way through the copse of wild trees, sure of her direction. She’d only been there once before, but that occasion was vivid in her memory.

She stepped into Zev’s orchard reverently. Morning mist shrouded the gnarled branches, almost heavy enough to be called fog. It made the air damp, and sent a shiver over Marieke’s arms, but the cold was worth it. The scene was impossibly beautiful, otherworldly in its silent stillness. Branches reached up toward the sky and over the rows toward each other, like the trees were greeting one another gently in preparation for another day together.

As Marieke walked, the magic moved in the ground beneath her feet, plentiful in volume and strong in potential. It didn’t dance like the magic of a windswept plain, and it certainly didn’t surge about erratically like the fractured magic of Sundering Canyon. She was familiar with the powerful ebb and flow of magic near the ocean, and the way magic pooled into regular, invisible wells under a cornfield. The magic in the ground beneath Zev’s orchard was different. Its movement was more like the steady, rhythmic flow of water in a deep, slow-moving river.

It was beautiful, and yet for some reason it made her heart ache unbearably. She was aware both of a desire to simply stand in its presence and soak it in, and a desire to throw herself to her knees to get closer to it. She pictured herself digging her fingers into the dirt in a futile attempt to catch hold of the magic and stop it from flowing endlessly, unstoppablyon and away from her.

It felt like Zev, she realized. If he could be expressed in terms of magic, that was what he would feel like.

What he felt like physically, she remembered perfectly well. If she closed her eyes, she could believe herself once again pressed against him on the grass near the cliff, his strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe from vengeful elves and deathly falls alike.

“Marieke.”

The soft voice made her turn, but not start. She hadn’t heard him approach, but some part of her had known he would come. Hadn’t she come here out of a desire to be closer to him? Where would he be found if not in his orchard?

“Good morning,” she said softly, her eyes roaming over his face and taking in the scruffy shadow on his cheeks and his rumpled shirt. He’d dressed in haste, not stopping to shave.

“Are you recovered from yesterday?” Zev asked, his eyes searching her face as unashamedly as she’d been studying his.

“Yes.”

She didn’t ask the same question. His eyes were a little tired, but she could see at a glance that his form held all its usual strength. He was as solid and unyielding as the timeless trees in his orchard. And as entrancing, at least for her.

Zev seemed to be waiting for her to say more, but Marieke stayed silent. She had nothing in particular to say.

“I heard you leave the house,” he said eventually. “Why did you come here?”

“Because I love it here,” she said, pulling her eyes from his face and casting them around the orchard. Feeling bold, she returned her gaze to his features. “It feels like you.”

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