I returned it with a small, tentative one of my own before quickly looking down as I pulled my mug closer, taking a greedy gulp of coffee even though it was too hot. I put the mug down and spun it slowly on the tabletop, feeling awkward. I didn’t look up until Nua and Gillie joined me, setting down a wooden plate loaded with toast, three smaller plates for each of us, and a tray of boiled eggs in little wooden cups.
I smiled in thanks and took two, as well as a slice of toast. Gillie had already devoured a whole egg and was starting on his second by the time Nua and I had cut the tops off ours. I tore off a piece of toast and dipped it into the runny yolk, missing my two hens fiercely.
Were they alright? Surely not. Surely they were dead. No one would have gone to look after them. Only Caom knew I had them—he’d been the only one to visit me often—and I very much doubted he’d be selfless enough to trudge all the way to that cottage to tend to them. Especially now that I was gone and he could no longer try and fuck me.
“What do you plan on doing today, Ash?” Gillie asked around a mouthful of toast, his silver eyes peering at me over the rim of his mug as he lifted it to have a sip.
Honestly, there wasn’t much for me to do here. I practised fighting with Nua, and I read Gillie’s books. It just made me want myownbooks. I knew most of them were Briordan’s, but I’d bought a few myself, and besides—he was long gone. His cottage had been abandoned for a century before the unseelie stashed me in it.
I looked hesitantly between Gillie and Nua. “I was wondering… Can I get back onto unseelie land?”
They both went still before sharing a look, which made me roll my eyes. They did thatall the time.
“Ash…” Nua began, setting down his spoon. “We know you still want to go after the Carlin, but—”
“Not for that,” I said, though the anger that constantly simmered threatened to boil over at the mention of her. “I want my stuff. From the cottage. Do you think I’d be able to run and get it? It’s right on the edge of her land, and no one goes out there.”
Nua looked stricken. “It’s too dangerous. Her guards are lurking, trying to find you. And you’re still healing.”
“I’m not saying this to be a bastard, but how much would you realistically be able to take with one arm?” Gillie asked, making me grit my teeth. I forced myself not to snap at him—he hadn’t chopped off my arm. And he was right.
“Maybe… Could one of you come with me?” I flushed as I asked it, knowing how selfish I was being.
They both shook their heads, making my shoulders slump.
“We can’t set foot on either court’s land,” Gillie said. “Otherwise we would have just come and got you from the cottage as soon as you arrived.”
Of course. I was being stupid. But that didn’t mean I didn’t still want to try and get my stuff. My books. My notebook and dagger. My clothes. My heavy fountain pen and pewter potioncraft cauldron. The thick burgundy drachmsmith candle and soft white fur throw that had kept me warm when the Bitter Months came. I couldn’t remember whether I’d bought or found most of it, but I knew it was important. That those things weremine.
“If I went at night and took a big bag, and my dagger…” I flushed as I said it. How was I going to hold a huge bag of stuffanda dagger if someone did show up and see me?
Gillie and Nua were quiet for a moment.
“Like I said, Ash, it would be very hard with only one arm. It’s shit luck that that bastard prince got a swing in, but here we are.” He shrugged, eyeing me sympathetically, then looked hesitantly at Nua. “Although… wehavebeen thinking.”
I exhaled, toying with the empty shell of my egg. “About what?”
“About making you a new arm.”
It took a while for the words to sink in. When they did, I jerked my head up to stare at him. “What?”
“I’ve had some ideas.” Gillie’s silver eyes were sparking with excitement as he got up from the table and disappeared into the living room.
I looked at Nua, confused. His expression was half nervous, half hopeful, and he shot me a tentative smile.
“We were waiting to tell you until Gillie had worked out all the kinks.”
Gillie returned, brandishing a brown leather notebook with a flourish. As he settled back at the table beside me, he chuckled. “Hope you’re not squeamish.”
I swallowed with foreboding, leaning forward when he flicked through the notebook pages before turning it on the table so it faced me.
I stared down at the charcoal drawing of an arm made out of twisting branches. The fingers were long and spindly, and at the top of it Gillie had drawn the basic outline of a normal, flesh-and-bone arm and shoulder. The branch arm seemed to connect to it without any kind of harness or strap.
“What?” I said again. “Like… a prosthesis?”
Hope made my stomach clench. Could Gillie make me a prosthetic arm?
But then he said, “No, not a prosthesis.” Pointing to the join between branches and flesh, he added, “A living arm.”