Ninka Evertrue's Arc

Chapter 21 of 29

Ninka left the school with the taste of broth still on her tongue. Her father's thread pulled tighter under her ribs. Two miles. Maybe less. Dawn was four hours out, and she had no plan for the meadow's edge, no wall, no watcher, no weapon she trusted in her own hands. She found her mother at the hearth in the common room. Rebecka was already standing, bow across her back, the floating eye hovering at her shoulder. "He's close," Ninka said. "I know." Rebecka touched her daughter's cheek. "I sent for someone. He should be here." "Who?" "A man who knows how to hold a line." The front doors opened before Ninka could ask more. A tall man stepped in, muddy to the knees, a long sword strapped across his back in a pale sheath. His arms were covered in tattoos. A crystal hung at his throat. He looked at Ninka first, not Rebecka. "You're the one who built this," he said. Not a question. "Ninka." "Storm Bravesoul. Your mother's eye found me on the road two days ago." He set a pack down. "I came to teach. I can fight tonight." His voice was flat and even. Ninka felt the room settle around him the way a boat settles when the sail catches. Kaia had come to the doorway. The boy with the sparks stood behind her. They watched Storm the way children watch a stove they have been warned about. "He's a mile and a half now," Ninka said. "He has a doll that finds faces. He has hurt my brother. He has hurt me." "Then he doesn't cross the tree line," Storm said. He opened the pack. Inside, folded in dark cloth, was a suit of crystal plate. Pale blue and rose stones caught the hearthlight. Sigils ran down the chest in gold. "Where did you get that?" Rebecka asked. "Made it in a cell. Pulled the stone through the walls one piece at a time." He lifted the breastplate. It floated an inch above his palm and turned. "I don't need to touch a thing to move it. Your father won't get close enough to use his doll." Ninka's throat tightened. "He's my problem." "He's every child's problem in this house tonight." Storm looked at her steady. "Let me stand at the edge. You stay with them. That's the trade." She wanted to argue. She thought of the small girl who had pulled her chair away, now asleep in a cabin with a wooden rabbit at her feet. She nodded. Storm pulled the armor on piece by piece without lifting a hand. The last crystal locked at his shoulder. He walked out toward the meadow's edge alone. Ninka stood in the doorway and watched him go. The thread under her ribs stopped moving forward. It held, one mile out, and waited.