She’d started with the farmers in Domistad, using her magic to regrow the crop they’d lost. She’d only been able to replace a fraction of the vanished crops, but it would help keep Rhodan from falling into famine.
“Fascinated” wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how Killian had felt watching infantile wheat stalks crack through the dirt and rise toward the heavens. In a matter of minutes, the entire field had gone from tilled soil to a luscious expanse of gold. It had almost felt wrong, watching as earth and time were manipulated, as if man was not meant to experience such things—like he had peaked behind the curtain of the universe. He’d never been a religious man, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was in the presence of a god. Perhaps a goddess, in this case.
But that goddess had denounced the gratitude of the farmers and their families, who had fallen at her feet, weeping their praises and exaltations. She’d sneered at them like they were pests.
She’d been like that with everyone. Each time she reversed Lazarus’s devastation, she looked disgusted by the thanks she received. Not uncomfortable, not embarrassed or humbled. Downright disgusted.
Hence Killian’s foul mood.
That, and the fact that they hadn’t been able to fix everything. Elyse could banish the poltergeists and repair damaged homes, but she couldn’t replace the lives that had been taken. She couldn’t undo death.
At least, not again.
She strutted ahead of them now, clearing a path through the crowded market. Her chin was held high, and she made no effort to avoid the oncoming pedestrians. They either got out of her way or collided with Elyse’s shoulder as she sauntered right through them. She clocked a middle-aged woman so hard, the woman nearly spun to the ground. Knowing Elyse wouldn’tapologize herself, Killian stopped to make sure the woman was all right before hurrying on.
He didn’t miss the look of frustration Manny shot him. His friends were just as weary of Elyse’s behavior as he was, conveyed in hushed conversations when she wasn’t around.
Elyse finally found a Bulletin Boy and offered him a bronze coin. Killian came up beside her and held his breath as the boy stuffed the coin into his purse. He waited for the boy to recite the day’s news—all the while hating the nausea that swirled in his stomach. It was a hideous feeling, to hope for tidings of destruction.
But the boy had nothing of importance to share. Killian’s attention drifted as the boy chronicled how a terrier named Mr. Pigglesworth had been elected head of the local Council of Commerce in a silly act of celebrity. Elyse demanded her copper back from the poor boy, who gawked at her beneath his wool cap.
“Don’t mind her,” Sera assured him. She didn’t dare to touch Elyse, so instead she gently pushed the boy aside and turned back to the group.
Elyse’s arms were crossed in their near-permanent state as she glared at Sera.
“That was useless,” Manny sighed.
“We could try another Bulletin Boy,” Sera suggested. “Maybe he’ll have something different to share.”
“They all get their news from the same source,” Elyse spat. Her eyes rolled so far back into her head, Killian thought they might be stuck there forever.
Sera’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t retort.
“Maelor is definitely keeping things from the public,” Killian grumbled. He glanced to the west, where the palace sat in the center of the city. His mother was in that palace. He could imagine her chumming it up with the soldiers and maids, fawning over them as if she were their mother, too. His heart seemed to reach for her, his entire chest pulling him toward the palace. As much as he wanted to see his mother, though, he couldn’t let Elyse out of his sight for long, and there was no way he was bringing her to the palace. She was like a toddler who needed constant supervision, else she caused trouble.
Or maybe he feared she would disappear again, abandoning his aching heart for good.
Manny said, “I could visit the barracks. Find out what the Guard knows.”
Killian shook his head. “I know a faster way to get information.” He turned to Elyse, flinching at the brutal boredom in her eyes. “Can you take us to the northern part of the city?”
Elyse’s newfound ability to transport without potion was extremely lucrative. She could only take them places she’d been before, much like with the potion, but at least they didn’t have to worry about brewing another batch.
She huffed a breath but relented, dropping her arms to her sides. She didn’t bother moving to a secluded alleyway, and no one dared ask her to do so. They’d lost that fight too many times. Killian gripped her wrist while Manny and Sera each wrapped a hand around Elyse’s other arm.
Killian let out a breath and prepared himself for the magic.
It was far less troubling than the potion—less sickening and dizzying—though it still felt like he was being smothered by nothingness. In the span of a blink, his bones and organs were compressed through the currents of space, and then he was in a quiet street not far from Sera’s apartment.
“Thank you,” Killian said as he let go of Elyse’s wrist. He didn’t know why he said it. It wasn’t like she cared. “Follow me,” he added before marching down the street.
Fortunately, they weren’t far from their destination. He led them through the rows of apartment buildings and sleepy shops and stopped before a bakery with a pink painted sign. In bright, bold letters, it read “Dough and Behold.”
“Here?” Sera asked, glancing from the sign to Killian. She looked at him as if he’d gone mad.
“Trust me,” Killian answered with a smile. Perhaps chatting with Gideon would brighten his day. He might even get a pastry out of it.
He ducked into the store, a bell chiming his arrival. The delicious smell of icing and sweet dough enveloped him, transporting him to a heavenly place. It had been months since he’d visited the bakery, but nothing had changed. The counter was spread with confections, the pink walls still as bright as ever, and sunlight streamed through the windows in a radiant glow.
