“Why?”
“Look around, love. I am surrounded by beautiful goddesses daily. Who would want to follow a frumpy woman in an old dress, who would rather dig in the dirt than sip wine on a garden terrace?”
“I would. You are beautiful in whatever you wear, but I think this suits you better.” Reaching out, I rub the worn, olive-colored cotton between two fingers. “You remind me of my grandmother.”
Startled laughter bursts from her mouth. She snorts behind her hand. “Sorry. Just… that’s not exactly what I expected. I mean, I know I’m old, love, but I don’tlookit.”
“I wasn’t referring to your looks. More so your morals. Nan was humble. She didn’t need much. Even though she emigrated from Jinsan, the people of St. Laurent loved her just as she was.” As did I. “What I’m saying is… feed whatever brings you peace in your life. What is the point of living if we cannot be our true selves?”
Demi swallows, lifts a hand to her throat. Two tears wind down her cheeks. “I will keep that in mind, Min from Marles.”
With that, I take my leave. I’m nearly to the hallway when Demi calls, “Don’t forget what I taught you.”
I turn around to face her. The goddess has taught me much. I’m not sure what, specifically, she refers to.
“Cinnamon,” she elaborates.
My lips curve. “I won’t forget.”
Blueberries and cinnamon: the perfect complements. Rather like Demi and myself, if I do say so.
The East Wind waits for me in the eastern garden, having claimed a bench beneath a patch of laurel trees where the creek runs clear. The morning holds a chill. Soft mounds of orange dot the grounds where fallen leaves have collected. Eurus wears his cloak, though the hood rests against his back, no longer a shield to hide his features. With his elbows braced on his thighs, he sits with his face in his hands, an image of frustration, or defeat, or both.
As grass crunches beneath my loafers, his head snaps up.
“Did you find Demi?” he asks.
I nod, drawing my coat tighter around me, my rucksack slung across my back. “I will miss her.” My one friend in this world, bound to the City of Gods.
The East Wind looks elsewhere, briefly. He is sad when he turns back to me. I do not like seeing it, his sadness. “We shouldn’t delay. It will take the majority of the day to reach Marles.”
I shiver and shove my hands into the pockets of my coat. It is cold enough that my breath makes steam of the air. “Aren’t we using the same doorway we entered from?”
“We will fly. We have the time.” He considers me in uncertainty, as if expecting a rebuttal, but I’ve none to give. It will be nice to spend these last hours in the East Wind’s company.
He cradles me in his arms with effortless strength, and his immense wings unfold. Muscles engaged, he sinks into a crouch, then explodes skyward.
My teeth begin to chatter as each beat of his wings drives us farther from the city. From this height, I see its cobblestoned roads, its elegant edifices crowned in ivy and wisteria. Farther out sits the massive dome of the arena. Then there is the palace, which shrinks ever smaller, its stained-glass windows blotting to gray until, eventually, a cloud drifts across my sight.
I settle in for the journey. Of course I would be sad to leave. This realm is a wonder. And yet, I am not so sure I would want to live here. Its facade suggests a certain level of perfection, a lack of suffering and darkness. But that cannot be further from the truth. Its unblemishedvisage shields the pocked interior, the weakened areas where rot has taken root.
We soar over Eurus’ homeland for many an hour. A long, mountainous eruption sketches a jagged line to the north. On one such peak, I believe I spot a shining white city overlooking a shadowed valley, but then we are past, rivers sparkling like starlight below. Open plains unfurl, and large herds of hoofed animals gallop along, some with curling horns, others possessing dusky coats interrupted by gray stripes.
But the earth cannot extend forever. It reaches its cessation, and now we soar over open sea.
A nervous tremor shivers along my skin. I do my best to ignore it. They are calm, these waters. Idyllic, even, with their ruffled white collars aptly bound across their necks.
Over time, however, the waves rupture with increasing ferocity, stirred by the churning mass of clouds ahead. And within the storm’s impenetrable wall is the rocky island that stands alone.
Eurus fashions a protective dome around us as we fly through the worst of the squall. And there is the manor, her rain-dampened stone piled into turrets and ramparts, balconies and terraces. And there, too, is the tower, a room that was both prison and sanctuary.
Seeing it now, from the outside, I understand a place needs not have a locked door or walls to feel like a cage. It could be a sprawling, ivy-covered estate, or the tiny broom cupboard tucked within.
Angling my face toward Eurus, I shout over the wind, “If you return to the City of Gods, what will happen to the manor?”
His eyes thin against the salt spray. “I haven’t decided yet.” A particularly strong gust buffets us, and he tightens his arms around me until we level out. “Technically, once I return to my homeland, I am forbidden to live in the mortal realms, but I may keep the manor, just in case. Or I’ll let the sea take it.”
A thread of sorrow moves through me. It was within the walls of the manor that I learned of the kindness a bowl of stew could bring. “Won’t she get lonely?”
