“You are not queen yet, Farah,” Rishiana interrupted, “and you will not become queen until I choose it. Until then, you and your sister will govern as equals. You will accept her help, and you will be grateful for it.”
Which Farah clearly was not. She glared, her nostrils flaring in a rare show of emotion. But if Rishiana noticed Farah’s anger, she ignored it. She sat back in her seat, hands folding with finality. “Ara’s condition is only worsening,” Rishiana said. “If I am to see her, I must go now. I will not be away long. A month. Two, at most. All arrangements have already been made. I leave at dawn.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
The moon marked time.
As Venick went north, he watched night after night as the moon slowly inked away. He felt like that. Slivered, a shadow of who he had once been.
He had changed. Venick knew this without really understanding it. But he felt it. He felt how single-minded he had become. How easily he offered himself up, how his loyalty was branded into each of his choices.
He thought about Ellina. Her wounds would be healed by now. Her brethren would have tended them, perhaps wrapped them in the same leaves she had used on him. Her open flesh would heal quickly with the use of those leaves. But he wondered if the scars ached. He wondered if a phantom pain remained, if she could still feel the memory of how those scars had come to be, and why.
He wondered if she regretted it.
Venick imagined what he would say to her if he could. He wanted to tell her that he knew how it felt. That he understood how a scar could hurt long after it had healed. He wanted to tell her thatheregretted her scars, all of them, not just the ones she’d earned on his behalf, and not just the ones he could see. That he would take them from her, if he could.
Venick pressed his palms to his eyes and felt a wash of remorse that hecouldn’ttake them from her. Then, remorse for his own remorse, because he overestimated himself, and seemed unable to protect anyone he cared about.
That night he didn’t light a fire. He lay on his back and gazed at the stars. Far away, a wanewolf called into the air. Her partner answered. Their mournful howls sang long and low.
???
He reached the edge of the forest.
He stood at the line of trees and marveled at the simple sight of open land. He saw the dim outlines of the northern mountains in the distance, the tundra reaching between them, its barren soil like an endless black lake.
???
He was hungry. He was thirsty. He broke the ice that frosted the ground and crunched it between his teeth. He hadn’t seen a single sign of life since leaving the forest. Not an elf or human. Not a bird or hare. The Shallow Sea was still days away, and Venick began to worry at his own growing weakness. He had counted on his ability to hunt. Had counted on there being preytohunt. But there was nothing. If the elves made this journey, they must come prepared, well prepared, perhaps with homing horses they could summon to cross the tundra faster. But Venick had no horse. He was not prepared.
He brushed his wet hands on his trousers and walked on.
???
He could smell the sea.
He knew that smell, a smell as old as his whole life. It was salt and sand and open water. Venick became eager. He put on a burst of speed. He crested a ridge and it came into view.
A thin fog hung over glassy grey water. The sky was peppered with clouds, and their shadows drew shapes on its surface.
He reached the shore. He stripped off his boots and stepped into the water. It was freezing, but he didn’t pull away. The burn made him feel alive.
???
Venick was lucky.
He was lucky, to have spotted a glimpse of the fox as she left her den. He was lucky, that the cubs inside were too small to flee. He had not eaten anything but moss and ice in days. Venick was delirious with hunger.
And yet, as he gripped the cub around her neck, he felt odd. As if killing and eating the fox was wrong. As if some unknown force urged him not to.
He was not well, he thought, to think such strange things.
Certainly not, as he set the cub back in her den.
He stood. His head swam. He didn’t know how far north he’d walked, only that he was deep in the heart of it. The Shallow Sea had been a constant presence to the east, but soon he would break away from the water towards the mountains. When he did, his chances of finding food would become even slimmer.
He looked again at the fox den and his stomach twisted in longing. But he did not eat a fox.
