“You climbed a Cyclops and killed it with Poseidon’s own trident. You can do anything.”
My breath catches, and my bones burn. He believes that. Unequivocally. Magic whips through me, and I’m reminded of all the people I read at circus fairs over the years, asking them questions and my body reacting to their answers. Feeling truths used to be so rare. Now, more and more, I feel the ones that carry the fervor of powerful belief, and Lukos’s conviction is stronger than any lie.
“Do you know what Elpis means?” I ask.
He nods again. “There’s not a person here that doesn’t know. And more will come.”
More will come. To follow me. To die for me.
Steeling myself against that thought, I ask, “Do you know what I have in my heart?”
This time, he shakes his head, because how could he possibly know, when I’m only just figuring it out myself? In less than half a year, I’ve changed completely. Maybe I’ve finally become the person I was meant to be. The person Iwantto be.
“I have hope.” Standing, I reach out and draw Lukos up with me, holding what I now see is a raw and sword-blistered hand in mine. “And I’ll share it with the world.”
* * *
Griffin quickly sets about organizing quarters for us in a more central location, so I go to Carver’s nearby tent with him to catch up and rest. There’s no question that Carver will remain in charge of the Fisans. Without a single swordsman or career soldier among them, they need the most guidance and training. Flynn and Kato will continue to supervise mixed groups of Sintans and Tarvans, which is the unity-promoting organization they’d already put into place while we were away. All three of them will again report to Griffin, who’ll oversee everyone and everything.
“You don’t have to stay at the camp,” Carver says, letting his tent flap drop back down behind us to block out the bright splash of autumn sunlight. “You could live in Castle Tarva with the rest of the family.”
Without Griffin? No thanks.Although I am the only one without a real job here. Unless being stared at and incubating Little Bean count. And inspiring troops with rousing speeches like “Rise and continue!”
“I’ll stay here.” I grimace. “Maybe babysit Bellanca.”
Carver chuckles. Then his expression shuts down, darkening, as if he didn’t mean to let himself laugh.
I glance around, frowning. Carver’s tent is as disheveled as he is. I’ve never known him to be messy before, but he has to dig his only chair out from under a pile of disorganized weapons and other bits and things before I can even sit down on it. I’d wanted a better feel for the state Carver is really in, and judging by my surroundings, it’s not good.
Parched, I search the tent for water. All I see is a jug of wine, the thought of which turns my stomach and doesn’t tempt me in the least, even though my tongue is so dry it’s sticking to the roof of my mouth.
Carver blows out a long, drawn-out breath. “Bellanca is…”
I glance back at him, waiting for him to continue. He slowly shakes his head, his hands on his narrow hips. He doesn’t say anything else.
“Indescribable?” I supply.
He nods.
The Tarvan ex-princess is still with the Fisans. Although they’re not her people, I think she might feel more comfortable with them because, contrary to the other, larger contingents, there are Magoi among them. Not many, but some. I could feel their power in the air, scraping at my skin, beckoning me. It felt mainly like Healing Magic, which makes sense. Healers have never been given their due in Fisa, or any say in whom they can help. Their discontent is well known.
There’s also the distinct possibility that Bellanca’s own people hate her. I doubt Bellanca herself did anything to merit their loathing, but she was part of the family that terrified and terrorized them, although that was really Galen’s and Acantha’s handiwork. But I never heard of the younger royals doing anything to set themselves apart or to defy their brother’s authority. Not publicly, anyway. As for the rest, only Bellanca knows.
It doesn’t matter now, though. People will eventually find out she killed Galen Tarva with her own two hands, and they’ll forgive her. They might even love her for it.
Well, maybe. She’s a little hard to love.
Bellanca didn’t bother greeting Griffin and me. She just glared at us like it’s a damn good thing we somehow managed to survive without her help. I think her standoffishness is payback for driving her off the morning we left. There’s no way I’ll ever tell her how close we came to never coming back. She might not let us out of her sight again.
Just before Carver and I ducked inside his tent, Bellanca threw up her hands in disgust at a young Magoi’s floundering, bellowing out, “You call that fire?Thisis fire!” She promptly went up in flames. She’s probably still that way.
I wipe the sweat from my upper lip. Bellanca, Little Bean, the frankly uncalled-for afternoon heat… There’s not a drop of moisture in the air.It’s the rainy season, for the Gods’ sakes!
“Can I have some water?” I almost wish I were back at Frostfire with its bubbling mountain stream and constant breeze.
Then again, I could do without the gaping volcanic pit. Just the thought of that seemingly bottomless hole makes me shudder. At least the army encampment doesn’t have that. And it has Beta Team instead of a burned-out house. Wherever they are is home.
I sigh. I’m not sure why.
