“I want the truth.”
“Truth about what?”
“Why you left me.”
It wasn’t what I had planned to say, but it was what I wanted. My payment, I supposed, for helping him with Fate.
“Why I left you? To get the coins?” he asked.
“No. All those years ago. You walked away and never came back. Never told me why.”
He ran his hand over his face, scratching at the line of his jaw. “We don’t... Do you really want to do this now?”
“Yes. I’ve been telling myself I owe you this favor because you gave me your ink, your magic, and tied me to this Crossroads in ways that even Stel can’t break.
“You showed up when I was drowning and dove in after me. But that’s not why I’m doing this for you. Not why I’m helping you.”
“Oh?” he asked softly. “Then why are you helping me?”
“No, it’s my turn to ask questions. Why did you leave?”
He was still, his gaze caught on the horizon of memory. “I regret it,” he finally said, his voice low. “I made...stupid decisions back then. Still do, apparently. That morning...I just wanted,neededto go to my tree.
“It had been a long time. Years since I’d been with it.”
I nodded.
“That was when I found out there had been a change of power among the wizards. Some of them wanted to break off from the traditional teachings. Wanted to reshape the Order to their desires. It got messy. It got violent.”
“A war?” I hadn’t heard about that. Surely someone would have known if powerful beings like wizards were waging war against each other.
“As much as. Magic was...forced into spells...the damage...” He rubbed the back of his neck and the ghost tattoos down the back of his arm flared with the faintest light.
“Sides had to be chosen. There was no option. I threw myself in with the uprising. The rebels.”
No surprise there. Card had always been an anomaly among wizards. Too much dryad for most to accept him. A little too wild, and sometimes, I thought, a little too...generous.
Wizards were a cold-hearted, emotionless people. I didn’t know if it was innate to them or if the kindness was trained out of them, but wizards never let their emotions decide their actions.
“At first, I felt like a hero. Or at least like less of a failure. And I thought, I really did, that I’d be back soon. That any day, the fight would be over, and I’d come walking in, maybe with flowers or fresh fruit. I’d walk onto your land, your house, your kitchen, and everything would be good. Be the same. I’d be welcomed.
“But then time slipped. People died...and worse. I realized the rebellion was led by someone who was just as power hungry as the wizards on the other side.
“Power for one and starvation for all. I...couldn’t stay in a fight that would end in deaths, with nothing changed no matter who won.”
He dropped his hand from his neck. “I was going to leave. I was going to come ho—here.”
I caught that slip, the second time he’d referred to the Crossroads as home, but I didn’t say anything. I needed to know the rest of his story.
“And then... I thought I heard my sister. Calling me. It was like waking up out of a bad dream. Years had gone by.”
“Was it her? Had someone found her?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Was she a target because I chose sides in the war? She’s full dryad. She should have had the protection of her tree, but it’s gone. Dead.”
I knew what that meant. If she hadn’t found a new heart tree, she would be dead too.
“But her voice...I heard her. I had to find her. I left. Ran, I suppose. I just...cut ties. I’d certainly had enough practice.”
