“You don’t have to do this,” Drutalos said. “Weshouldtalk about it more. Does Hiwa know you’re going tonight?”
I didn’t stop walking toward the boat, but I did my best to hear him out.
“Don’t tell me you think I should marry Lord Fentos too.”
“Why couldn’t you get married? If not now, someday? Would Taran want you to mourn him forever?”
That made me laugh. That wasn’t the sort of question Taran would have given a straight answer to in the first place.
You can’t get married. Won’t you be too busy leading thrice-daily lamentations at one of my impressive funerary monuments?
For another thing, it was obvious Taran hadn’t thought very hard about what I was going to do without him, which was why I was here in the harbor, ready to sail the Sea of Dreams.
Myreal objection was that I never planned to get married. I was going to be a priestess in a celibate order and dedicate my life to spreading the Maiden’s mercy. I didn’t change my mind—I fell in love with Taran. Those were two different things, and I was determined that I would have one life or the other.
“I’m not going to mourn him at all anymore.” That had beencompletely unsustainable, like trying to breathe underwater. “I’m going to Wesha, and he’s going home, with or without me.”
I was confident, but Drutalos was not convinced.
“Iona, it feels like this is…this is a very complicated way of killing yourself,” he said, struggling for words. His voice was getting higher pitched and tighter. “I didn’t think you’d go tonight. It’s my turn to watch you, and—”
“If I were just going to kill myself, why would I ask you to bring me Wesha’s relics?”
“I don’t know! But why would you think Wesha would do anything for you?”
I snorted in grim amusement and tossed his words back at him. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the best singer alive, the last one of Wesha’s temple.”
The other acolyte pulled back, stung. He didn’t want to fight with me, but his eyes were starting to well up.
I didn’t want to spend the time to convince him. Everything in me was yearning to cross the sea, a relentless tug in my chest that pulled at me waking and sleeping. The only relief was in deciding to go.
I firmed my jaw and took Drutalos by the arm.
“The rebellion is over. You can do whatever you want to, but this is all I want. I want Taran back. And you don’t need me anymore—”
“Of course we do. Not just the acolytes—the queen does too, even if she doesn’t know it yet. Look around! It’s winter, but it hasn’t rained in months. There was no crop this year, and I heard someone say last week that hardly any children have been born since the rebellion started…Iona, you have to do something.”
“Youdo it this time. Build them an irrigation system or something, acolyte of Smenos,” I said, steeling myself against the guilt for leaving him. I’d given everything I had to the rebellion, and I’d never asked for anything in return. No title, no reward, not a singlecomfort in three years of war. Taran had promised me a stone house with a plum tree by the front window, but I hadn’t even stopped long enough to marry him.
I would have givenmylife for the other acolytes, but Drutalos didn’t have the right to ask me for Taran’s.
“Couldn’t you just…just wait? See if you feel better in a few more months. You know Taran wouldn’t approve of you sailing off alone,” Drutalos sniffled.
I frowned at the darkening horizon. “If Taran wanted to make my decisions for me, he shouldn’t have died.”
“But heisdead. Maybe all the priests who left are dead too. Maybe the gods really are gone.” He got a mulish expression on his face, the same one the queen got when I had this argument with her.
In response, I sighed and wiped my palms together. I sang six short, harsh syllables.
Hail Death, who kindles flame.
The trick was in the intonation, but it wasn’t hard.
Fire dripped from between my fingers, falling safely on the packed stone of the harbor and sputtering out for lack of fuel.
Drutalos still screeched and jumped back.
“What the hell?” he keened, his breathing turning to panic. I was immediately sorry—I could have chosen a different demonstration. Memories of the war hit all of us differently, and Drutalos was afraid of fire now. For the sake of his dignity, I held back my urge to rub his back as he raggedly pulled himself together, hands over his eyes.
