Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,24

that Marcus is going to barge in on me. But the door of the room is thick. I remain alone in the silence and darkness and dust.

The lamp is on in the room, but the closet is still filled with shadows. I turn my cell phone on the pile, and metal glints beneath the light. It’s so bright I almost pull back in surprise. I see gold, untouched by dust.

The closest word I can think of to describe the object before me is a gauntlet. The delicate tapered cylinder of gold flares at the end, shaped and sized for a wrist. It looks like finely wrought armor, opening on tiny hinges and closing with a delicate latch. Intricate scrollwork, vines, and gothic patterns cover its surface. I recognize some of them from Brekken’s clothes. This gauntlet came from Fiordenkill. From Myr.

Tentatively, I pick it up and turn it over. It’s beautiful, untouched by the rust and decay all around. I never knew Mom had anything like this. I would remember if she had showed it to me. Was it a gift from Marcus, maybe, or one of the delegates? The Magpie, Cadius? It seems clear enough what happened—Mom fell in love, not knowing the Magpie was a soul trader. And he betrayed her to get his hands on Nate’s soul. But I don’t want to act rashly. I want proof before taking this to Marcus.

Something on the inside of the cuff catches my eye. I tilt the gauntlet up and angle my phone light inside to see. The interior is smooth except for two engravings: the letters C. Winterkill and a small bird symbol. Same as the one in the photo of the man in the cloak.

I take the gauntlet with me when I go, heavy in the pocket of my hoodie. The scrapbook too.

Halfway back to my room, I see light under the door of Brekken’s room. I pause, then stop, feeling silly.

He’s probably asleep, I tell myself. Asleep and just forgot to turn the light off.

But then I hear soft footfalls behind the door, like he’s pacing. I don’t know quite what makes me raise my hand and knock, only that I don’t want to be alone right now. I want to tell someone what I found, what I know.

Brekken opens the door. He’s wearing a soft-looking tunic and loose linen pants, and he’s barefoot.

Is this what he sleeps in? It seems strange that I’ve never seen him like this before.

He blinks in surprise. “Maddie.”

“Hi.” My voice can’t decide whether it wants to be a whisper or not. It’s an effort to keep my eyes on his face—sleepy, open—rather than on his mussed hair or bare shoulders.

Focus, Maddie.

“What is it?” he asks, his low tone matching mine. Then his gaze sharpens. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” I nod. “Just, can I come in?”

“Of course.” He stands back to let me pass.

The only light on, his bedside lamp, leaves everything shadowy and hazy. Brekken’s room is smaller than mine. The bed takes up most of the space, with the nightstand and a small desk crammed in beside.

I stand next to the bed, suddenly self-conscious. Why did I come here? Hurriedly, I take the scrapbook and gauntlet out of my pockets, not wanting him to think—I don’t know what I want him to think.

As Brekken closes the door and pads over to me, I quietly relay the story of going to see my mom at Sterling Correctional, leaving out the part where she told me we weren’t meant to love people from other worlds. Then I show him the gauntlet.

“I found this in her room,” I say, turning it over so he can see the design. “I think it might be—his. The man she was in love with. I think he was a Fiorden.” My mom’s words echo in my head. The Magpie. Cadius. C. Winterkill. It could all be a coincidence, but maybe …

Brekken takes the gauntlet and examines it, his face furrowing in focus.

I try not to stare. The already short distance between us seems shorter here in this small room, and I’m very aware of his recently vacated bed behind me, the covers turned down and rumpled.

Focus.

“Winterkill,” Brekken muses.

My heart jumps. “Do you know that name?”

Brekken nods. “It’s a castle in Fiordenkill, in south Myr. A wealthy lord’s estate. Cadius Winterkill lives there. But …” He hesitates and sits down on the bed, still looking at the gauntlet. “He has an ill reputation. I wouldn’t think your mother