“It’s not the worst decision of my life, in case it matters.” Sol jumped off the bed. She knew her cousin was trying to make her angry, to get her to regret her outburst. And Sol did. She felt shame and guilt all on her own—she didn't need anyone else’s help with it.
“It’s about to be,” Sawyer assured. “You might have just doomed the South.”
Sol walked to her, squeezing her hands into fists. For a moment, she considered telling her what the true worst decision of her life was, but it wouldn’t matter. Not now, not ever, not to Sawyer. So instead, Sol said, “I wasn't about to sit back and watch people die for me.”
Sawyer glared, onyx eyes unyielding. “You’ll do a lot of that when you rule a territory, Princess. Get used to sitting back andassessing instead of placing yourself in situations we can't protect you from.”
“I don't need protection.”
“Get over yourself,” Sawyer scoffed. “It’s not even about you. It's about the Jinn gate.”
“Sawyerlyn!” Nina placed herself between them. “Stop it. Now.”
The words rang through Sol, gripping her bones. Her cousin wasn't wrong. Again.
Sol’s survival was vital, if not for herself, for the sake of closing the Jinn gate eventually. She herself had nothing of value.
Well, except her blood.
Nina peered at Sol over her shoulder. “Don't,” the Earth Caller warned. “Don't let that sink in. She’s angry. You matter as a person, not just what your destiny holds for you.”
Sawyer looked away from them, a flash of regret on her face as she crossed her arms.
“We aren't children. We don't insult each other like that.” Nina grabbed Sawyer’s arm. “We are all we have. You understand?”
The Fire Wielder nodded but refused to look at them. “I understand.”
Sawyer turned to the front door instead, just as a set of knocks pounded through it. “Think that’s for you, cousin.”
Sol sighed. “Any advice?”
Sawyer narrowed her eyes at her, suddenly serious. “Cas has gone through a lot, Sol. Remember that.”
“I—I will. Anything else?”
Nina pressed her lips together in contemplation. “Don't die.”
WHEN SOL WASnine,she and Irene had been at the town marketplace during a raid. Soldiers surrounded the wooden carts, sending the townsfolk into a terrified frenzy. Sol didn't learn until she was much older that the soldiers were contracted by some Northern territory to seek out a mercenary who fled their shores without paying for his goods.
At the time, though, Sol only knew the cold terror she felt as her mother held her against her chest, turning her away from the chaos, from the song of swords and screams as the soldiers dragged the middle-aged mercenary from his post. They took him away in shackles while his family sobbed on the sidelines, and the soldiers shed not a single tear or showed a mere shred of emotion.
Sol cried along with the stranger’s family, and Irene carried her all the way home, whispering sweet things and tales of a land where families wouldn’t be torn apart, where death wouldn’t be the only option for crimes committed out of necessity.
As Sol stood at the entrance of the Rimemere castle, Cas in copper cuffs beside her, the memory was bitter in her mind.
“A land where families wouldn’t be torn apart.”
The day in the gardens with Gaven was a particular weight in that moment as she watched Cas sidelong. He seemed better than the day before—not as weak or dirty. But hollow. Defeated.
Sol was about to say something, anything, to the man, but a girl maybe two feet shorter than her, with pin-straight hair and scarlet lips, sauntered over from her place at the end of the line. Sol vaguely recognized the woman from the dinner. She didn’t remember much of last night.
The woman looked at Sol. “Cattya of Stone Ledge, Princess.” She curtsied. “I do hope you don’t mind if we switch spots?”
Sol looked from Cattya to Cas, then leaned forward to locate where the woman had appeared from. There was an empty space almost at the end of the line the prospects stood to await the carriages that would take them to wherever the Vows took place.
“Get back in line, Cattya,” Cas said, mercifully taking Sol’s need to respond. “The guards will be suspicious if they see us talking.”
“Why? They know our history.” Cattya reached out to touch Cas on the shoulder, but before she could, a sway of his copper chains made her flinch back. “Rude.”
