Thorns by Kate Avery Ellison Page B

basket—in the house—
    I ran to the hearth and thrust my hand into the tangle of rags. My fingers brushed metal. I withdrew a locket and popped it open, and the glint of gears met my eyes.
    Farther technology. It drew the monsters like bees to nectar.
    My heart withered, but I smashed the locket under my shoe anyway. Our safety was more important than sentiment. I closed my eyes in silent apology, though, as I bent to pick up the pieces and put them back in the basket.
    “You’re sure you’re all right?” Adam stepped close to me, reaching out a hand. He hadn’t seen the locket.
    “It’s just been a long night.” His intense scrutiny threatened to overwhelm me. I pressed a hand over my eyes.
    “Lia!” Ivy’s voice echoed faintly from behind the door. “What’s going on?”
    Adam turned his head in the direction of her voice, and his brow furrowed. He looked back at me and caught my panicked expression. “Should I go?”
    “No, wait. It’s all right if they know you’re here. I—I need to speak with you,” I said. I reached for his sleeve, but stopped before my fingers brushed against it. I didn’t quite dare to touch him.
    He crossed his arms and faced me. His dark eyes pinned me in place as always, and my skin prickled as always with a sensation that was not quite fear.
    “I’ve got two Farther children hidden in the barn.”
    His eyes narrowed with sudden understanding.
    “Lia!” Ivy shrieked. The dresser legs scraped behind the closed door as if she planned to emerge.
    “We need to move them as soon as possible,” he said.
    “No, wait.” I put both hands against his chest to block him from stepping toward the door. “The Frost. It’s dark. The Watchers...”
    “I don’t think they’ll come back tonight. And I have methods for…avoiding them.”
    I shook my head, adamant. “You’re not going out there with just a few nets of snow blossoms. I don’t know anyone who’d take that kind of risk.”
    “You did, once.”
    The words shut me up. I made a small noise in my throat, not quite agreement and not quite denial. Something hovered unspoken in the air between us—the memory of him standing as he waited for Gabe and me in the snow that night two months ago. That was what was in my mind. I didn’t know what was in his.
    Adam hesitated. His fingers stilled against the edge of his cloak, and then he removed it and passed it to me as if resigning something. “The morning, then. They’ll be safe tonight.”
    Relief flowed through me. I hung his cloak on the rack and pointed toward the bedroom door that still shielded Ivy and Jonn. “I should let them know it’s all right now.”
    Ivy threw her arms around me and sobbed when I opened the door. Behind her, my brother slumped against the bed frame, his face pale and his eyes angry. I met his gaze over her head, and an ocean of wordless things passed between us. I broke eye contact first, when Adam stepped to the doorway.
    “Adam Brewer,” Ivy gasped, her expression a mixture of accusation and frank curiosity. “What are you doing here?”
    Jonn lifted his eyebrows and met my eyes with a firm stare that said he knew very well what Adam was doing here. I looked down at my hands.
    Adam smiled faintly, assuming the diffident-Brewer-boy persona he wore so well. It made him seem benign, unthreatening, unremarkable. But I could see through it now to the intense stillness in his body and eyes that told of his strength and control.
    “I only stopped by briefly to make sure you were all right. But your sister thinks it isn’t safe for me to go out again, so I’ll be staying the night,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to intrude.”
    “You just happened to be strolling through the Frost after dark?” Jonn raised both eyebrows as if he couldn’t believe it. He grabbed his crutches and hobbled forward to the door.
    Adam met his gaze squarely. “Yes.”
    “Ivy, can you get some spare quilts for the floor?” I