Free The Faerie War by rachel morgan Page B

are eighteen of you, but only one person came to see who was knocking at the door? What if I had overpowered you?”
    Tryce laughs. “You obviously didn’t see the other six who were out there watching you squirm upside down.”
    So I embarrassed myself in front of seven people instead of one. Fantastic. I cross my arms. “I have one more question, Tryce: If there are eighteen skilled fighters living here, how did a young guardian girl manage to sneak in and steal the chest containing Tharros’ power?”
     
    *
     
    Angelica’s theft of the chest is apparently an embarrassing story no one wants to talk about. After Tryce disappears to inform the Order members about what’s going on, and after we wait for the six patrolling the mountainside to return, we finally get going.
    Our group of nineteen moves quickly, navigating through the dark almost as easily as we would through daylight. The Order members don’t say much. Normally I’d be fine with that, but right now I’d give anything to be distracted from the thoughts that keep tormenting me. Thoughts of the terrible things that could be happening right now to the people I love. I keep telling myself that Violet and my mother and father are entirely capable of protecting themselves. I just hope Dad managed to get Calla to safety before anything could happen to her.
    I distract myself by focusing on individual Order members. I let their emotions wash over me. I welcome them, almost to the point of letting them overwhelm me. Excitement and enthusiasm are mixed in with a sprinkling of fear. I allow the excitement to invade me and take the place of the anxiety gnawing a hole in my insides. It works—sort of.
    Grey light turns to pink, then orange, then yellow as the sun rises above the trees we’re journeying through. We don’t stop. We pass food around and wolf it down while walking. All too quickly, the sun travels across the sky and disappears behind the trees.
    Another day gone.
    Night wraps around us. Still, we keep moving. I’m not tired yet; whenever I think of what might be happening in Creepy Hollow, I’m energized. Several hours later, Yale stops us and asks someone to check the state of the faerie paths. After lightning burns a hole in the ground and half the Order winds up drenched and windswept, we manage to get the doorway closed. Yale decides we should rest for a few hours.
    The mere thought of all the time we’re wasting on this journey is enough to twist my insides into a knot. I think about continuing without the Order. After all, a single person is less conspicuous than a group of nineteen, and I won’t stop to rest unless my body is crippled with exhaustion. But Yale convinces me that showing up in the middle of faerie civilization without a force of warriors—even a small one—isn’t the best idea. Neither is dropping unconscious from exhaustion.
    The next few days pass in the same way. Someone checks the faerie paths once a day. We then rest for two or three hours. I start to wonder if faerie paths are a thing of the past. Faeries have been using them for as long as anyone can remember, but what if they never function normally again?
    On our fourth or fifth day—I’m starting to lose count—the leafy trees surrounding us give way to burned trees. Some stand with bare limbs pointing to the sky while others lie cracked and broken on the ground. I jog to the front of the group to speak to Yale.
    “Where are we? Is this the middle of nowhere or somewhere specific?”
    “I think we’re in Black Rain Ridge.”
    “Does it always look like this?” I gesture to the blackened trees.
    Yale shakes his head. “I think there’s a Guild somewhere nearby. They must know what’s going on in the rest of the world.”
    “If there’s a Guild here, we won’t find it,” I tell him. Guilds are hidden, just like faerie homes. Only those who are members here would know where the entrance is.”
    Yale exhales. “That’s disappointing.”
    I clench my