Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,26

soul eaten like in the stories. Graylin used Fiorden healing magic to keep him alive, and it worked. My uncle is back on his feet now, back running the inn.

But the magic changed him, making him not quite at home in this human world anymore, though none of us want much to acknowledge that fact. His health is still touch and go; some days he’s had to stay in bed most of the time, sending me to oversee peace summit business in his place. Yet he looks all right today, except for the paleness of his face and the shadows under his eyes that have become the new normal.

“I haven’t seen this before,” he says finally, putting the gauntlet down on his desk in a nest of scattered letters, pens, and loose paper. “But I recognize that name. Winterkill.”

“Brekken said it was a wealthy estate in Myr,” I offer, leaving out the bits about lavish parties and magpies. I want Marcus to come to the same conclusion as me on his own. Then he’ll be more likely to let me do something about it.

Marcus nods. “Yes. It used to be an honorable family, a noble one. Cadius Winterkill was a delegate at the summer summits for a while, about twenty years ago.” Marcus traces a finger along the gauntlet’s edgings, looking troubled. “But then something changed. There have been rumors Cadius is involved with the soul trade, buying and selling bound silver from his estate. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard enough whispers to take them seriously.”

Cold trickles down my spine. “Do you think Mom had something to do with that? Like maybe she went undercover with this guy?”

“I never knew her to do anything of the sort.” Marcus chuckles, but it’s a melancholy sound. “Your mother was almost as bad a liar as you are.”

I can’t help but notice how he uses the word was. Like she’s already gone. “Well, it’s another lead, then,” I say, trying to sound chipper.

“There are other rumors too.” Marcus opens a desk drawer, but he pauses before dropping the gauntlet in, turning it over in his hands instead. “Graylin told me there was talk that Cadius had an enchanted suit of armor …”

My eyes flit to the gauntlet and back to my uncle. “Enchanted to do what?”

He’s already looked through the photo book, but I flip again to the photo of Mom in Fiordenkill and turn it around to face Marcus, to emphasize my point. “What if it allowed whoever wore it to travel between the worlds?”

I don’t think I’m imagining the hint of wistfulness in Marcus’s eyes as he looks at the picture. Is it for his sister, or for the other world?

“I just don’t know how this could be,” he says, and it sounds like he’s talking half to himself. “If there really is a way, how have we never heard about it before?”

“There are whole worlds outside of here,” I say, my heart beating fast at the thought of it. “There’s probably tons of stuff we don’t know. Just waiting to be found.”

He looks up at me, expression sharp. “What are you plotting?”

“Plotting?” I blink, but I know Marcus won’t let me get away with playing dumb. “Not plotting, just thinking.” I reach out and take the gauntlet from where he’s set it down on the desktop. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but it feels slightly warm in my hands, like something alive. “We could use this to find some actual answers. They’re not going to just come to us.”

“You want to go to Fiordenkill,” Marcus observes.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. Guilty. “Haven’t you ever been curious?”

“Of course I am,” he replies, a little sharp. “But even if this thing”—he indicates the gauntlet—“will let you survive there for a while, we don’t know how long the effects last. We don’t know the intricacies of Myr politics. We don’t have proof that Winterkill is connected to anything at all. Are you sure this isn’t about Brekken?”

“Brekken?” I sit up straight, surprised and a little insulted. I mean, it’s true that I’ve always dreamed of seeing Brekken’s homeland. But that’s not what’s driving me now—it’s that we have a solid lead and the means to follow it. Yes, I have feelings for Brekken. It would be silly to pretend otherwise. So I have a crush—that doesn’t mean my common sense has evaporated. I’m tempted to remind my uncle who ran the inn while he was out of commission and Brekken