Page 130 of A Song of Air
“What other choice do we have?” Uric whispered, low enough so only Valerio could hear.
There was nothing they could do. They could not very well travel to Unseelie themselves to find them. It would put them all at risk and they would lose far more than they had to gain if they did so.
“We cannot go after them,” Uric whispered again. “It is toodangerous.”
Finally, Valerio sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right,” he said.
Uric tried not to feel surprised. Very rarely did his friend listen to him, if ever.
“There is nothing we can do,” Valerio told everyone. “Except pray to Mana, and pray hard and fast that Weylyn and Bryson make it back to us safely.” His gaze went to the mushroom circle they’d fallen through, staring at it like he could will them to come back through from the other side.
Uric had to force himself to look away from the hope in his prince’s eyes, for as much as he wanted to diminish it and tell him that it was hopeless, he could not bring himself to do so. Or even want to believe it himself.
Into the Pit
Bryson awoke with anache in her temples, her scars itching, and the sensation of her tongue being too dry to even swallow. She smacked her lips and sat up with a groan. Light pierced her eyes and she rubbed at her lids, fingers scraping across the scars on her flesh.
Magic fizzled through the air as she inhaled deep. A second smack of her lips and she nearly gagged at the coppery tang she tasted on her tongue.
“Ugh,” she complained, rubbing the back of her hand against her mouth. “Whatisthat?”
She blinked again, her surroundings coming into focus. She was in the same tent she’d gotten dressed in with Weylyn, sitting among a plush pile of pillows and blankets. She was naked, though Bryson didn’t question it, as she vaguely remembered the thin, stringy material being yanked from her body the night before.
Her face flushed at the memory of how she’d all but pounced on Weylyn. Then another sharper memory invaded. Of powder falling against her nose and making her lose her sense of self.
Had that been the reason she’d wanted him so desperately or was there more to it than that? Bryson couldn’t be sure, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy to question it regardless.
Not when the morning sun was peeking through the tent, making her entire brain pound inside her skull. Not when brownies were flittering through the tent, tidying things that didn’t need to be tidied, and pouring buckets of steaming warm water into the tub.
“Up, up, up,” one of the brownies ordered in a squeaky voice. The creature’s skin looked like it was made of red bark, with hair that resembled moss. “The queen requests an audience with you at once.”
Bryson blinked away the bleariness in her vision once again, unsure if she’d heard the brownie correctly. “Me?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Up, up, up.”
The brownie’s rough fingers grasped at Bryson’s legs, tugging on her skin, pinching her in sensitive areas. Bryson obeyed, standing on wobbling legs.
