come on. She's not going with you,” Kingfisher drawled. “She’s coming with me, aren't you, Oshellith? She wants to know secrets, and I’m the only one willing to give them to her.” “Why are you calling me that? Oshellith?” I snapped. “What does it mean?” He'd turned around. Was walking away. I listened to his boots striking the cold stone beneath his feet, each step ringing in my ears. “An Oshellith is a type of butterfly,” he called as he went. “Osha for short. They hatch, live, and die all in one day. The cold kills them very fast. Isn’t that right, Renfis?”
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