Bri ushered the two strangers inside and gently pulled at her, jarring Isla from her memories. Isla felt Bri searching her eyes then squeezed her arm, a question passing between them. She blinked rapidly and swallowed, offering Bri a tight smile. A quick nod. Then they led the men into the dining room. Bri’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before she hurried to the kitchen and returned shortly with two glasses of water.
“We’re sorry to disturb you so late,” the tall one began. “We're merchants from Krill, just north of Aataran. We crossed paths with your father and brother yesterday at the mountains. They’d been attacked,” he said, and, noting the fearful look that passed between the girls, quickly added, “But they’re both alive.”
Isla let out a breath. “They’re alive? Are they hurt?”
“Your brother has a few small injuries, nothing he won’t recover from. My uncle and I helped them back to our cottage, and they can stay there until they can travel.” The young man cleared his throat. “Your father is a bit worse off. He took a nasty blow to the head and a knife wound in his side.” Isla sucked in a breath, clutching Bri’s hand so hard that the tips of Isla’s fingers turned red. “We have a skilled healer in Krill who’s been with him the whole time. She’s doing the best she can. He hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s still alive.”
Isla forgot how to breathe. An icy numbness crept up, begging her to close herself off before despair could set in and grip her insides—just like last time.
It had taken Isla six months to crawl her way out of that pit two years ago. Her mother had fallen ill and died of a terrible bout of pneumonia, and mere weeks later, Waylan had been killed in an attack on the road, exactly like her brother and father had just suffered through. At twenty years old, she’d had her mother and her first love cleaved from her life in one fell swoop. She hadn’t known how to grieve such a loss. She hadn’t known how to wake up each morning when they were no longer rising to the same sun, or how to smile when the reason for her joy was gone.
Arden and Papa had suffered, of course. But they had wept for Mama openly and had confronted her death without hiding. They had honored her memory and accepted help from others in carrying their grief. Arden and his group of friends had even established a monthly ritual of going camping to share stories of Waylan and all he had meant to them. Slowly, over time, those trips had lessened as the men grew accustomed to the small hole in their circle.
Isla had grieved in secret, under the solitude of the stars. Her work had become a fortress; her mind, a prison. She’d gone days without uttering a single word to anyone, afraid of what would come out if she opened her mouth. Everything around her had been a reminder of them. She’d seen her mother in every corner of their house, every shop in the streets, every smile on Arden’s lips. She had smelled Waylan on the shirt she’d taken from him mere weeks before his death when they had laid out under the stars and dreamed of their future.
Bri and Hamil had stuck with her through it all. When she hadn’t been able to bear her own thoughts, they had lent their strength. When she’d been afraid she would waste away in a sea of her own misery, they had been her anchor. When she’d confessed she didn’t think she would ever be the same Isla again, they had loved her anyway.
There was not a single defining moment that had pulled her back. It had been one morning, one step, one tear at a time. She’d found her smile and her hope, her passion and will. She had found herself. Perhaps not as bright and shining as she’d once been, but no longer lost.
Steeling her mind, she latched onto that small bit of hope the man in front of her had provided about her father:he’s still alive.
“You’re very kind for making the journey up here to let us know,” Bri said with a smile, and the younger man blushed. Then, Bri’s features shifted to suspicion. “Although I have to ask: why’d you risk it? Not that we don’t appreciate it, but with all of the attacks happening these days, I’m surprised anyone would put themselves in danger for a couple of strangers.”
At that moment, Isla was immensely grateful for her best friend. Isla knew her own judgment was clouded by emotion, and while Bri may have romantic and adventurous notions about life, she remained level-headed when Isla still couldn’t think properly.
The two men exchanged a look. “We like to believe there’s still some good in the world, miss, even if we have to make it ourselves. And we know a thing or two about loss on these roads. The boy’s father and mother,” he gestured with his head to his young companion, “died a year ago. Random attack. That’s why we help.” His gruff words were simple but powerful.
Isla met his eyes and nodded, understanding passing between them.
The man looked toward the front door. “We told Arden we’d come find you since it’s only about a day’s travel. He knew you’d fuss when it took them so long to get home. We’ll head back in the morning, if that’s alright with you. We can find someplace else to stay the night.”
“I’m going to Krill with you,” Isla said as she stood abruptly, shattering through the pain building inside of her. She couldn’t freeze up like last time; she had to take action. There was no way she was letting her father recover in an unfamiliar town for gods only knew how long. Bri shot her an alarmed look but didn’t say anything.
The older man paused, tapped his chin, then offered his hand. “I like your spirit, miss. I’m August, by the way. You can call me Auggie.” He smiled warmly at Isla, showing a large gap between his front teeth. She immediately liked him; he had a very endearing, sincere presence that reminded her of her father. “And this is my nephew, Damien.” Damien tipped his head at her, but his eyes kept shifting over to Bri.
“We’d be happy to have you travel back with us. I’m sure your boys would like to see you. How about you pack up tonight, and we meet here at sun-up tomorrow?” August asked.
Bri pulled at her arm. “Can we talk for a moment?” she asked through gritted teeth. Isla looked back at the men and smiled apologetically, then walked into the kitchen with Bri.
“What is wrong with you?” Bri hissed. “You just agreed to leave with these people without even knowing theirnamesfirst? How do you know they’re telling the truth and aren’t a couple of sick men or murderers who come after lonely girls?”
Isla scoffed. “Oh, please. Does it look like August would hurt a fly? Besides, if there’s even a chance they’re telling the truth, I have to go with them. You of all people should understand. I can’t—Ican’t—lose Papa,” Isla pleaded.
Bri bit her lip, a crease appearing on her brow. “So, you’re just going to ride out of town with two complete strangers—although Damien is a handsome stranger—” she leaned back to get a better view of the men in the other room, then sighed. “Alright, alright. But I’m coming with you. And if they kill us, I’m going to be so mad at you.”
The girls were up late into the night packing for the journey. After spending another hour talking with August and Damien and concluding that they were not, in fact, “sick men or murderers” as Bri had put it, the girls gave them directions to the closest inn and some money to pay for their stay. Isla felt it was the least she could offer for everything they had done. Based on their brief exchange and her gut instinct, Isla parted with them confident that the two strangers were genuinely kind, humble, working men who simply wanted to help those in need.
Bri insisted on sharing a bed with Isla, seeming to know without speaking that Isla needed the comfort. Even still, Isla slept fitfully. Nightmares plagued her already worried mind. Flashes of Waylan’s mother’s empty eyes and his dead body haunted her. She was screaming over his limp form, calling his name over and over. Then without warning, the body shifted into her father’s, and he became the one lying on the floor, lifeless. He opened his eyes and instead of the green warmth she was used to, she found herself staring into black pits that swallowed her whole. She felt cold and hot all at once and heard a chilling voice whisper in her ear, “Quite curious…”
Isla jolted awake, the faint scent of wine and cypress trees wafting in the air. Groaning, she flipped onto her stomach and buried her head in the pillow, careful not to wake Bri. Eventually, she fell back asleep.
The girls awoke with the sun and checked to make sure they had everything they needed. They didn’t know how long they’d be gone, so they packed plenty of extra clothes, food, money, and weapons. Damien and Auggie were right on time and waiting patiently outside Isla’s house. The four greeted one another, and Bri gave the two men a biscuit with honey and a pear for breakfast.
“We appreciate it, Miss Brielle. And, ahh, about the horses.” Damien scratched his head, taking a bite of the biscuit as he directed his question at Isla. “We only have the two we came on. Do you have another one? You can always ride with one of us, if not,” he suggested with a shrug.
Bri’s responding grin was absolutely wicked as she made her way to the grazing horses with her bag in tow. “I call Damien’s.”
Damien gulped. “I—I didn’t realize you were coming too, Miss Brielle. My uncle must’ve left that part out.” He grabbed Isla’s other bag and followed.
