Read Online Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) by Nazarea Andrews - Free Book Online Page A

hovertransport headed home, I’m not going to relax.
    “I can get back to the Gate by myself,” I say, pointedly. I tug lightly at the handle of the transport my supplies are loaded on, and it hums, gliding along behind me.
    “Oh, no bother, my dear. I couldn’t possibly send you off on your own.”
    Suppressing a sigh, I force myself to ignore him, following the maptable back to the Gate.
    Berg is waiting, slouched against a hovertransport with a book open in his hands. He glances up as I cross the large plaza, a smiling brightening his face. “Did you find everything?” he asks, shoving his book into a bag at his feet and reaching for the first crate of supplies.
    “Everything on the list,” I answer, acutely aware of Wrenfel listening at my side.
    “And Kaida’s meds?”
    I nod, not telling him that I got so much more than that—immunizations and meds, bandages and antibodics, needles and sutures. Far more than Gwen ever asked for—and that all of my Commission marks had been refused. Again, I wonder what Gwen did to earn such loyalty.
    “How was your testing, my boy?” Wrenfel asks, and Berg pauses for a moment. He arches an eyebrow at me, and I shake my head.
    “Wrenfel,” I say, turning to him, “we really do need to go. Thanks for all your help today.”
    He smiles, and for the first time, the amusement seems to reach his eyes. “Anything, my dear, for the Mistress. Give her my best. I’ll see you soon.” He kisses my hand, and nods at Berg before stepping back.
    Ignoring the pang of fear that goes through me, I climb onto the hovertransport. Berg drops into the seat next to me, pulling me close with a sigh. As the hovertransport glides smoothly forward, I lean into him and let my eyes close in relief.
    We’re going home.
     

Chapter 8
    I drop the last package of rice into the overstuffed crate and stare around, exhausted. Cook pushes me aside and heaves the crate up. I can hear her joints popping, see the strain in her eyes.
    “Berg will move these to the outbuilding,” Cook grunts, dropping the box heavily by the door.
    I shake my head. “He went hunting. Won’t be back until last meal.”
    Cook bites her lip, looking at the boxes doubtfully. “I could call Spiro?” she offers.
    I laugh, and shake my head. “I’ll use the trolley—it’ll be fine.”
    The trolley is in the outbuilding, and I slip my cloak on as I leave the Manor. There is a slight break in the weather, the unusual warmth thawing the ice enough that my feet are quickly soaked from the muddy slush.
    I can’t help but glance around as I near the outbuilding. I have not seen the white ban-wolf since we sat under the pine tree before I went to the City. I find myself missing him. Even his musical screams have been absent.
    The wind has picked up by the time Cook and I finish loading the boxes onto the trolley. I shiver as I drag it through the deepening darkness, the cold wind turning my sweat to ice and promising snow.
    A whisper of noise is my only herald to his presence. He is closer than he was before—and blocking my path. I pause, wipe my sweat away and scrub it on my cloak. I am uncomfortably aware of how I must look—dusty and windblown and tired.
    He sniffs at me and shakes his head, violently.
    “You were at the bridge,” I say, not a question. His eyes dart away, toward the City, his lips peeling back to bare his teeth. I follow the gaze, and sigh, “I hate going to the City—but my sister. She was dying.”
    It is a weak excuse. I know nothing about the ban-wolf, but I have picked up on his distaste for the City.
    He steps toward me and I fall back, stumbling in my surprise. His lip curls a little. Guilt pierces me—I have offended him. His claws close around the trolley handle and he jerks it forward. Silently, I follow him to the outbuilding.
    He is sniffing at the packages, his ears pricked curiously. I reach for one and he growls, picks it up. I wait, watching—if he wants a box full of rice in