Lyr Thornwright's Arc

Chapter 7 of 8

Cade lay bleeding on her floor, and Lyr had minutes. He would wake soon. When he did, he would remember the fox. He would follow it, or her, straight to the willow tree in the desert. Then the whole town would know the animal lived here. She pressed her hand to his wound and made herself think. She called Finn over. He crouched beside her, still pale from what he had done. "Take the pendant," she said. "It's in my drawer, half-carved. Take the fox too. Both of you go into the desert and find a place to hide them." Finn looked at her, then at Cade. "Now," she said. He gathered the pendant, whistled low to the fox, and left. The door shut. The cottage went quiet. Lyr dragged Cade to her bed and lifted him onto the mattress. Hanging chains and unfinished necklaces swayed above him as she worked. She threaded a needle and stitched the split skin at the back of his head, her hands shaking, each pull slow and clumsy. He groaned when the needle bit. His eyes opened. "You," he said. He did not reach for her throat. He only watched her tie off the last stitch. "Lie still," she said. "The fox." His voice cracked. "Where is it." "Gone. You won't find it." He closed his eyes. For a long moment he said nothing. When he spoke again the gruffness was gone. "She followed it every night. My wife. She thought it led to something. Magic in the sand." He swallowed. "I found her out there. No wounds. No blood. Just lying in the dunes like she'd walked until she couldn't stand, then lay down." He turned his head toward her. "The fox took her out and left her. That's how it kills. It doesn't bite. It leads." Lyr thought of the willow tree, the long walk into the desert she made herself, the wood that steadied her hands. She had followed the fox too. She had never once been afraid it meant her harm. "You're wrong," she said quietly. "I saw her face." "I follow it. I'm still here." She set the needle down. "It gives me what I need. It saved my hands." Cade stared at her. Something shifted behind his eyes, not belief, but doubt. "Then it wants something from you," he said. "It always wants something." He tried to sit up and could not. The blow had left him weak. He sank back against her pillow, trapped in her bed, in her cottage, knowing her secret and unable to act on it yet. Lyr looked at the closed door. Finn was out there now with the pendant and the fox, hiding both in the sand. Cade would heal. When he did, he would want to see the willow with his own eyes. She had bought herself a day, maybe two. She had not bought his silence. She had only bought time, and she would need every hour of it.