Page 137 of Cursed Shadows 5

I whack his arm, hard, then make to turn my back on him. I mean to lead the way inside where he can reunite with his brother, a relationship between them that I have not pried into, that I do not understand.

But I pause. “There is an orphan boy in there,” I tell him. “He stays with Forranach.”

Rune’s brows lift.

“Be kind,” I warn. “And don’t make eye-contact with Hedda… She is in her adolescence now and, well, just don’t look at her wrong—or touch her head.”

If his brows could lift any higher, they would disappear into his hairline. “What else have I missed?”

Before an answer can come from me, the thudding sound of bootfalls slap over and over on the cobblestone.

Rune twists to look over his shoulder; I lean aside to look around him.

A messenger from the town centre depot runs towards us. I can tell by the raven-claw gloves on his hands, the sack of letters slung over a shoulder, and the waistcoat with buttons in the image of red wax stamps.

“Miss Elmfield?”

I blink, once, twice, then stagger around Rune.

My mind goes blank.

I just… extend my hand.

“Narcissa Elmfield,” the messenger echoes, and slaps an envelope onto my waiting palm. “Just arrived. One copper piece.”

“Oh.” I crunch the flimsy paper in my fist before I pat around my pockets for a hint of coin. I find them, jangled in the deep, inner pocket of my cardigan. I reach in awkwardly, then pull out a few pieces.

One gold, three silver, a half-dozen copper.

Rune helps, he plucks a copper piece from my hand then tosses it to the messenger who swipes it out the air with practiced ease, then, with that, he’s turned on his heels and running off for his next delivery.

I have the fleeting wonder what it is like for those who cannot give the copper piece. This is, after all, Cheapside.

Not every fae here can pay for the service.

But maybe it is enough, to simply know that a letter has arrived, even if it cannot be read, that loved one has returned. A way to cheat a pricey system.

Rune’s shoulder brushes mine. He moves around to stand at my side, his gaze gleaming and locked onto the thin parchment inked with my name.

I stuff the rest of the coin into the pocket of my stained breeches, then turn the envelope over in my hands. Only, it isn’t quite an envelope; rather, it is a thrice-folded piece of cheap parchment, translucent.

I tear the strip of black tape from the edge then unfold the letter.

‘I am returned.

Daxeel’

That’s it.

I turn it over.

Nothing on the back.

Rune softens beside me; loosened shoulders, a sagging breath. But the tension is still knotted into me.

The letter has no mention of a stronghold, no place to meet. I read it a third time over, and the sagging of my shoulders is unlike Rune’s. Mine is not only relief. It is disappointment, too.

Daxeel doesn’t want me to meet him anymore.

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