Kya stood at the helm of The Curious Leaf, her face drawn and pensive as she stared out into a sea of charcoal clouds.
“You’re afraid,” Hearthorne said from her silver pot.
“I don’t like the look of these clouds,” Kya said. As if to underscore her words, a strand of lightning flashed in the distance. The clouds grumbled peevishly among themselves, ready and mutinous.
“Have a little faith. It would take more than a mere storm to sink a faerie vessel.” Hearthorne gazed out at the sky with open appreciation. She had always loved the moments leading up to a good storm—when the air fizzed with the magic of the sylphs and storm sprites. “But I wasn’t talking about the storm.”