“As well as one can be when returning to captivity.” He looks me over as I slide my journal into my pack, and his expression softens. “I do not regret this time spent with you.” His hand rests on mine, no gloves between us. His fingers tremble. “Whatever awaits me back in Under, I will face it without fear. I have you to thank for that.”
He will not face it alone. Not if I have anything to do with it.
Zephyrus clears his throat. “How do you feel after last night?”
The memory of his hands marking my skin draws heat to my cheeks. “I feel somewhat nauseated from the herb,” I admit, dropping my eyes. And yet, I do not regret what we shared. How could I when my heart beat alongside the West Wind’s, peaceful at long last?
“What will happen when you return to Carterhaugh?” he asks. His fingers tighten over mine. “Where will you go?”
I stare at our intertwined fingers, their pattern of wheat and cream. “Once Mother Mabel learns I am no longer a virgin,” I say, “I will be dismissed from service, my title stripped. I may never again serve as a Daughter of Thornbrook.”
“Brielle—”
My smile strains. “It’s all right, Zephyrus. I’m at peace with the choice I made.” When I imagine myself departing Thornbrook’s pale stone walls, I do not despair. My skill as a bladesmith will allow me to begin again elsewhere. Kilkare, perhaps.
“And if I am not at peace with it?”
I appreciate his willingness to shield me from the consequences of my actions, even if his efforts are wasted. “What’s done is done,” I say. “There’s no use dwelling on the past.”
“But—”
The hiss of sand draws my attention. Twin canvas sails snap with fury as the South Wind speeds toward us. The arrow-shaped sailer hits a peak, soaring an incredible distance before skimming across the cracked ground. He leaps from his vessel mid-slide.
“We must go.” He is breathless, dark eyes bright above his white scarf. “I’m needed back at the palace.”
“The palace?” Zephyrus scans his brother’s face, intrigued. “Whatever for?”
As the South Wind glances between Zephyrus and I, my hand lifts to my burning cheek. He can probably infer what occurred last night, if the wild state of my hair is any indication.
Notus climbs aboard his sailer without answering Zephyrus’ question. He may have agreed to help his brother, but that doesn’t mean he has forgiven him, or even likes him.
“Well.” Zephyrus sighs. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Even if I wanted to move, I cannot. A part of me recoils at the idea of leaving the desert haven. I do not know if I can handle another loss.
“Brielle,” he murmurs. “It’s time.”
So it is.
Slipping an arm around his lower back, I help Zephyrus hobble onto the vessel. Once settled, the sails bow with wind, and we’re off.
The return journey passes too quickly. Sitting mute beside me, Zephyrus observes the passing dunes with faraway eyes. Mother Mabel always claimed prayer did not hold the world’s answers. It couldn’t make water into wine. It couldn’t change what had been done. Turns out she was right.
We sail until the sand recedes and the earth splinters into fine cracks. Ahead, the cliffs climb to impressive heights, beneath which lies the cave entrance—the boundary between realms.
We disembark, lurching from the boat as Zephyrus’ right knee gives out. I pull him tight against my side, absorbing the tremors running up his legs. He regards the South Wind for a moment, head bent in rare humility.
“Thank you, Notus, for your help. I will not forget this.” Weak and disheveled he may be, but he attempts to straighten, to stand tall despite what it costs him.
The South Wind dips his chin. “Be well, Zephyrus.”
He springs onto his vessel. Moments later, he vanishes beyond the shimmering lines of heat.
Zephyrus turns to me. Resignation sharpens his somber expression.“Once we cross back into Under, it will not take the hounds long to pick up my scent, if they are not already waiting for me.”
I slip my hand into his, palm to palm, flesh to flesh. “Whatever happens,” I whisper, “never forget that you are good.”
It is not enough, but it is all I can offer.
