Chapter 30

“This shouldn’t be here. It shouldn’t even exist,” Ken muttered, staring at the writ in Noah’s hands.

They’d just finished a late breakfast the next morning. Noah, Ciri, and Ken stood on deck while the sun peeked over the horizon. Hannah had given up the tiller at dawn after guiding them back from the deeper waters they’d been towed into and toward the western tip of Thyræ’sol. She’d ordered them to stay near the shoreline and to wake her when they reached the island’s southern tip—she intended to make the passage to Braemont herself.

“What does that mean?” Noah asked, offering the writ to Ken.

Ken recoiled—the only time Noah had ever seen the normally unflappable Fae do so—then shook his head. “No.”

“Okay.” Noah withdrew his hand slowly. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Does this have to do with things you can’t tell me about?”

Ken stared at Noah for thirty seconds, giving him all the answers he needed. Noah exhaled and closed his eyes, trying to work out why the writ had provoked such a reaction.

“Father,” Ciri urged. “If this writ is dangerous or defective, it’s in all our best interests for you to tell us now.”

Ken set his jaw and worked through the problem before speaking. “It is not dangerous—”

“Then what’s the—” Noah started.

“—to Noah.”

They fell silent, exchanging looks, until Ciri spoke again. “You’re implying it’s dangerous to me. Or to you.”

“Yes.”

“How about to Hannah?” Noah asked.

Ken furrowed his brow. “I…don’t know.”

Noah began running possibilities through his head, but Ciri reached the answer first. “The black metal around it—that’s blood iron.” Her eyes widened.

“That’s the stuff that’s toxic to Fae, isn’t it?” Noah asked.

“Yes.” She looked to Ken.

“Then I should definitely get rid of this,” Noah said, moving toward the railing to drop it into the ocean.

“No!” Ken shouted. “Do not.”

“Why?”

“It could leach into the water. It could fall into the hands of someone nefarious—far worse than those pirates.”

“So…what do you suggest I do with it?” Noah turned back.

“There is a vault. In Skatrith. It houses the black writs,” Ken answered.

Noah blinked. “Where’s that? Is it on the way to Crownspire?”

“No. It’s the other direction.” Ciri’s stare bored into Ken. “It is the capital of the Winter Fae empire.” She paused. “I would like to know how you learned of such a place. I have never heard of these black writs, much less a vault to house them.”

“I do not wish to say,” Ken replied evasively.

“Okay.” Noah sounded exasperated. “Fine. I’m going to reason this out loud with Ciri. If you want to join or correct us, do so.” He looked at Ciri. “When you told me what a writ is, you said they come from the ancient Fae empire, right?”

“Correct,” she nodded.

“And the process to make them is lost to time?”

“Also correct.”

“But I’m assuming Fae can’t work with blood iron because it’s toxic to them.”

“A reasonable assumption. I have never read or heard of a Fae in the ancient empire working with blood iron, much less making a writ with it.”

Noah pulled the pen from his pocket and examined its smooth black surface, then unscrewed the cap to reveal a needle of the same substance. “How toxic is it? Am I putting you in danger by standing near you like this?”

“I do not believe so,” Ciri said, turning to Ken.

“No. You are not,” Ken confirmed. “Simple skin contact will produce severe rashes, but they are treatable.”

“But piercing the skin would be worse.”

“Correct.” Ken nodded. “If a Fae’s skin is pierced by blood iron—even slightly—that Fae should seek a talented healer immediately. Otherwise they could die within days, perhaps hours.”

“And you know this…how?” Noah asked.

Ken fell silent again, and Ciri filled the gap. “That confirms it. A Fae did not create this writ.”

Noah brought the writ up to his face for a closer look. “I’m…not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“See the way it—” Noah began, holding it toward Ciri, then jerked his hand back. “Actually, on second thought, you probably shouldn’t get too close.”

“A wise choice,” Ciri said, keeping her distance.

“I’m no metallurgist, but around the edges the coloring is slightly different. And I only touched Cael’s writ once, but this feels heavier.” He turned the pen in his hand. “I think someone took a regular writ and coated it in blood iron somehow.”

“Why would someone do that?” Ciri asked, eyes wide.

“Maybe something to do with the war and Ferrum Vale,” he said.

Ken’s jaw tightened; that told Noah everything he needed to know.

“Regardless of origin, we should decide what to do with it,” Ciri said.

Noah faced Ken. “If I write a spell with this, can Ciri still cast it? Or will she be hurt?”

When Ken didn’t answer, Ciri stepped forward and fixed him with a stare. “Father. If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Noah to write a spell now so I can try it.”

Ken held her gaze for a few seconds, then faltered. “No. The spell should be safe to cast.”

“Great.” Noah exhaled. “Then I think that settles it: I’ll keep it for now. It’s too useful to pass up, and too dangerous to hand to someone else. I’ll make sure no Fae touches it—Hannah included—and if I find another writ near the Winter Fae empire, I’ll hand it over.” He looked at Ken. “Fair compromise?”

“Fair compromise,” Ken agreed.

“What’s a fair compromise?” Hannah asked as she threw open the nearby hatch and climbed onto deck.

“Long story,” Noah said, slipping the writ into his pocket. “I thought you were sleeping a bit longer.”

“Couldn’t stay asleep,” Hannah replied, taking the tiller from Ken and glancing at the island beside them. “Besides, we’re almost there. Another twenty minutes and I would have had to wake up anyway.”

“How long will the passage to Braemont take?” Ken asked.

“Rest of the day,” Hannah said. “Normally I’d say we should stop overnight, but I’d rather not risk it in case Ohnar’s crew comes looking for revenge.”

“Good.” Ken stretched and moved toward the hatch near the bow. “I’m going to use the twin mirrors to call my wives, then nap. Wake me if you need me.”

“I will accompany you,” Ciri added, moving after her father. “I would like to see them as well.”

“You’re looking better,” Noah said to Hannah as they left. “How do you feel?”

“Why thank you, Noah.” She winked. “I’m glad you noticed.”

Only then did he realize she’d changed out of the torn, bloodstained clothes from earlier. She still wore her leather boots and the belt slung around her hips, but now she had on a short black top that rode up to show her midriff when she stretched. Tight black pants hugged her long legs, the side stitching drawing his eyes before he forced them away.

“I meant your injuries,” Noah said, looking aside.

“Aww, well thanks anyway. I’m feeling a lot better.” Her voice dropped. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s my line,” she teased.

He let out a reluctant chuckle. “Okay, I’m not fine.”

“Hard to sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hide your darkness—that’s how it grows. Bring it into the light. That’s the only cure.”

“What does that mean?” Noah asked.

“It means talk about your feelings, shit‑for‑brains.” She grinned just as Ciri resurfaced with an armful of books.

The next few hours passed quickly. With each minute they relaxed further, increasingly confident they’d escaped the pirates. Ciri buried herself in studying the grimoire they’d recovered from the camp near Rookhaven while Noah practiced writing runes in her notebook. He briefly considered trying a real spell with his new writ, but the rocking of the boat convinced him otherwise.

There’ll be plenty of time for that later, he thought, his gaze drifting toward the stern.

“Noah,” Ciri said softly, tugging his arm. “Are you looking at Hannah?”

“What? No, I was just looking off into the distance.” He shook his head and turned to her. “She just happened to be in that direction.”

“But you were looking at her before.”

“I…yeah,” he admitted.

“You care about her.”

Not wanting to lie, he chose his words carefully. “She’s…frustrating. Cocky. Makes bad decisions. Refuses to apologize.”

“It is unlike you to withhold your feelings from me,” Ciri noted.

“I’m sorry.” He turned toward her fully. “It’s just…weird talking about being attracted to another woman with the woman I…care about.” He corrected himself mid‑sentence.

She didn’t seem to notice, already scribbling notes. “Why do you feel that way?”

“Where I come from, women tend to find that…threatening? I don’t know. I wasn’t great at relationships before this, so I’m guessing.”

“Why would they be threatened by their partner’s attraction to—ah.” She nodded. “Human predisposition for monogamy.”

“Yeah.” Noah relaxed a little now that the conversation had shifted toward theory. “Most human women think that if their partner is attracted to someone else, they might leave.”

“Do you wish to leave our relationship for Hannah?” Ciri asked plainly.

“What? No! Absolutely not.”

“I believed that to be the case.” She smiled faintly. “You mentioned to my mothers that you were open to the idea of polygyny. Now that we have a potential practical application, do you feel differently?”

Noah blinked. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

The corners of her lips lifted. “Perhaps. But you do care about Hannah? I believe that would be a prerequisite.”

He took a breath. “Despite how infuriating she can be…yeah. I think there’s a good person under all that bravado. I care about her a little. Even if we’ve only known her a few days.”

“She is an attractive woman,” Ciri said after a pause. “I would be open to experimenting with her—so long as you are involved, of course.”

Noah’s heart skipped. “I…uh…yeah. Yes. Please.”

“Then we have reached a consensus. You should pursue her as well, romantically.”

He stared at her, stunned. “I’m honestly surprised. I thought you didn’t approve of any women in the tribe.”

“She is not truly a member of the tribe. She is…on the periphery.”

“Okay. I just want to make sure you’re really okay with this before I do anything.”

“Why would I not be?”

“She’s…different from you.”

“Yes. She is confident where I am cautious. She trusts instinct; I trust data.” Ciri tapped her pen. “Her being different is beneficial in a polygynous relationship. Each of us occupies a role without overlap.”

Noah considered that. “Like your moms. Aelya’s the warrior, Thala’s the nurturing one, and Vela…uh…”

“Vela is practical,” Ciri supplied.

“Yeah. That’s a good way to put it.”

“What were you going to call her?”

“Sarcastic,” Noah admitted, making them both laugh. “Please don’t tell her that.”

“I will not volunteer that information,” Ciri said with a smile.

Noah glanced at Hannah again, then back at Ciri. “I might need to hear that you’re not going to be upset from you a few more times. Monogamy is really ingrained where I’m from. Are you sure you’re not upset that I’m starting to have feelings for someone else?”

Ciri met his gaze without wavering. “Noah. The fact that you care about another woman does not injure my emotional state in any capacity. If anything, I admire you for it.”

He blinked. “You do?”

“Yes. Your care for her led you to save her life. That is admirable. Were she fully Fae, it might even be considered an unsolicited gift.”

“Huh. Maybe she took it that way.” Noah shrugged. “That might explain why she’s acting flirty now.”

“You should indulge in this flirting. Preferably within audible distance, so that I may study how to do it more effectively.”

“I guess I’d better start then. Especially given that we’re probably parting ways with her soon.”

“Temporarily, yes. But it is likely we will see her again later during one of her regular visits to the tribe.”

Something loosened in Noah’s chest. He reached out, tucked a stray strand of pink hair behind her ear, and kissed her softly. When he pulled back, he knew he needed to say one more thing.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Yes?” she asked, looking up at him.

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready. But…there are three very important words in my language that people say when they care deeply about each other.” He hesitated. “Four words in Fae, from what you’ve taught me.”

“Tell them to me,” she said, readying her pen.

Switching to English for the first time in months, Noah said them slowly. “I love you.”

“Eye,” Ciri repeated, writing down the phonetic equivalents. “Looove. Yu.”

Noah grinned. “Perfect.”

“What do these words mean?”

He tilted her chin up so she met his eyes, then spoke the Fae translation. “Æven thyræl quoris velæn.”

She blushed but didn’t look away. “Æven thyræl quoris ænthor.”