“Mavis.”
“I’m Lily. That’s Aeva, and he’s Brenn.”
The blonde one—Lily—had wide, feverish eyes. Aeva’s hair was brunette and wiry, and Brenn’s shoulders looked too narrow for the weight he carried.
Lily stuck her hand out to me, and I tentatively shook it. Aeva and Brenn just dipped their heads in acknowledgment.
“Where are you from?” I asked them.
“We’re from Lameer,” Lily said.
Lameer was just south of Athelney, the capital of Ravaryn.
My father once told me that Athelney could be seen just as clearly at night as it was during the day. He said that it was because they had no need for candles or oil lamps, and that light could be commanded with the flick of a switch. He was always full of stories.
The three of them stared at me curiously, like they wanted to pick apart my brain. I stretched my neck and arms out, trying my best to ignore their intrusive gazes.
“What?” I asked a bit impatiently. My legs twitched under their unsettling scrutiny.
Lily responded, “How do you get away with it?”
“Get away with what?”
“You talk to them with such bravery,” Brenn said, half-amazed.
“Or stupidity,” quipped Aeva in a monotonous tone. Only her lips moved when she spoke.
“Why aren’t you afraid of their retribution?” Lily asked.
“What more can they do to me they haven’t already done? They’ve taken me from my home and everything I’ve ever known. They want to see me break, but I refuse to cower in front of monsters.”
I returned to my bowl of stew and devoured it. In part because I felt the bite of acidity in my stomach from prolonged emptiness, but also because I wanted to send a message that I wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
I wasn’t a fool. I knew I needed allies, but I didn’t need friends.
Acts such as giving Isaac a warm blanket earned me favors. Making small talk only further humanized them, which was dangerous. The more I saw the other culled as actual people with families and homes, the more sympathy I gained for them. I would never admit it aloud, but Rowan was right.
I couldn’t get attached. Not to them. Not to anyone.
Chapter 9
“It is wise to question,
for nothing is granted freely.”
- The Old Book
We rode until nightfall, taking breaks only for occasional nourishment and allowing the horses to rest. Each time we stopped, I became more and more aware of just how far from home I was.
The wind blew strands of onyx hair over my eyes, casting everything in shadow. When I could see clearly, it was always the grasslands below. They stretched for hundreds of miles. It was simple, yet utterly foreign. I could see how the prairie might feel like home to some, but I was not one of them. I was used to trees, tall and reaching. The prairie was quiet, and I missed the sound of birds and rustling branches.
Even the stars looked different in the Sky. One particularly shone brighter than all the rest. I admired it reverently, wondering if maybe that was Our Lady shining down upon us.
That, maybe, I wasn’t as alone as I had originally thought.
Rowan and I rode in silence, neither of us saying a word since our tense confrontation earlier.
I was grateful we didn’t talk—he seldom said anything useful. He liked to answer my questions with vague comments or deflect them altogether.
