Book 16: Brother of Mine

Lexa

The pack house of the Glade is remarkably similar to the ones in Silverhide and Endova. It’s a single wide, airy room with multiple entrances to the outside world but no windows. Long tables stretch in its center, but smaller tables and wobbly stools meant for moving around are scattered throughout the space. There’s a kitchen in the back–crude, however, with not much more than a few work tables and a wood-fired stove for cooking. But it’s the storeroom off the kitchen that takes my breath away, and not for the reason it should have.

It’s nearly empty. Bags of flour, oats, and rice are depleted to near critical levels–barely enough to feed a single family. Dried, smoked meat hangs from hooks on the ceiling, scrapped down to the bone. I step out of the way as another set of fae–servants, I believe–step past me carrying bags of what smells like grain. They keep stacking and stacking but barely make a dent in what’s needed, and some of the ice guarding