The South Wind considers his brother for a moment. He glances between us, then lowers his sword, the grooves around his eyes deepening in puzzlement. “Well fought.” The husk of his voice has warmed with what I believe is respect. “I underestimated you.”
I do not understand. “You will not kill me?”
“Not today, no. I suppose my brother is right. There is little honor in killing a mortal whose only mistake is caring for a disgraced god.”
Zephyrus goggles at Notus, but the South Wind doesn’t rescind his offer of mercy. Instead, he heads for the oasis while Zephyrus and I retreat to the shade of the surrounding trees. A rash has begun to spread across my freckled skin. I miss the low-hanging mists of Carterhaugh. I am not built for heat like this.
After sheathing my dagger, I accept the waterskin from Zephyrus.
“You did well,” he murmurs.
The water slides down my throat like the sweetest relief. I drain the container of its last drop. “For a novitiate,” I say with a pointed look. “Right?”
“For anyone.” If I’m not mistaken, he regards me with newfound admiration. “Fighting darkwalkers, taking down Yakim, dueling my brother. It is obvious you know your way around a blade. Who taught you how to fight?”
“The bladesmith I apprenticed with taught me the fundamentals. I studied with him for three years. Sometimes I’d spar with the boys in town.” A blade in my hand freed me. It still does. “Mother Mabel took over my training two years ago.”
His head cants in curiosity, but he only says, “I’m impressed you held out for so long against Notus. He is a superior swordsman.”
“He is.” The best I have ever fought.
With the skin empty, I set it aside, tip back my head to the burning wind. The slender trees bend, yet never break. “How long before we must return?”
Zephyrus rests his hand on mine, drawing my attention. I still wear my gloves. “We will go tomorrow.”
It is too soon.
I’ve prayed for a miracle, done everything in my power to save the West Wind. But his curse precedes my arrival and will persist long after I am gone. Better to return to Under while he is still of able body.
“We had a good run, yes?” In the cooling shade, his green eyes brighten like the purest jewels.
The ache in my chest migrates to my throat. He tries to make light of the situation, but it hurts too much. We have fought and fallen and risen again, but Zephyrus is still no nearer to freedom. “It didn’t work,” I say.
“I’m not so sure,” he murmurs, fingers tightening over mine. “I suppose it depends on one’s perspective.”
“We failed.” My voice strains. “Ifailed you.”
“My darling novitiate, you could never fail me.” At my look of skepticism, he says, “It has been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to hope, but you have made me feel as though anything is possible. That is something I will never be able to repay. Whatever time we have left, I’m grateful for it.”
Why do the people I care for always leave me? “I wish…” Yet my longing dies, the thought too tender, a bruise.
Together, we gaze out at the oasis, the water placid, painted blue by the sky’s reflection. The South Wind has made himself scarce.
“You once asked me if I had faith in the good forces of the world,” Zephyrus says, “and I would not give you a straight answer.” He lifts his solemn eyes to mine. “But having spent time in your presence, I’m convinced there must be some unexplainable phenomenon of all-encompassing good in this world. You helped me see that.”
I have never been good with words, so I cup the West Wind’s cheek, his bristly facial hair scraping my glove. “Can I ask why your face continues to change?”
“Because you have begun to see the decency inside me,” he says, “instead of only the foul parts.”
“I do not understand.”
“My brother, Boreas, cursed me to wear that hideous face. Only when someone recognized a change in me would I begin to change myself.”
I sweep my touch along his jaw. He tips his head into my hand, an expression of quiet agony passing over his features.
“I see you,” I whisper. It has taken months, but I see the West Wind for who he is: deeply flawed, a man amidst transition.
Zephyrus exhales a shuddering breath. “Wait.” He pushes my hand aside. “Ask me why Boreas cursed me. Ask me why I crossed into his realm, knowing Pierus’ wrath awaited when I returned.”
