I’m half carriedback to the farm by Kopiro, Ryla, and Vullis. We nearly go tumbling over the sea cliffs several times trying to make our way by starlight alone. The world is still spinning, and I’m not sure if it’s the piyata cider or the smash to the head.
‘I’ve never met a half-decent Seaguardian, have you?’ I ask bitterly.
‘I hope they all step in sheep shite,’ Ryla curses through gritted teeth.
‘Ah but rotten apples, Ris,’ Kopiro replies.
I wince. ‘Spoil the whole barrel. That’s what they always forget to add.’
‘I’d rather a fist in the face than the mind games of some of them,’ Ryla adds. At least you know where you stand.’
‘Speaking of—’ I stumble, leaning on Ryla’s arm as they help me steady my feet. I let out a groan like an elder.
‘Did they break anything?’ Vullis asks.
‘Just my spirit.’
Ryla barks out a gruff laugh. ‘How can you quip at a time like this?’
‘It’s that or lie in a puddle and wait for death.’
‘Grim.’
‘You did ask.’
We’re not as quiet as we hoped to be. Biba wakes up, frightened by the noise, and then by the blood. Fetch bounds up to me, trying tolick my wounds. My friends try to keep everyone away as they clean me up on the sofa.
‘She’s all right, little one,’ Kopiro says soothingly to Biba.
‘Her face is hurt.’ I can hear from Biba’s warbling voice that she’s close to tears.
‘Nothing serious. Go back to sleep, Biba,’ he tries again.
‘She’s clearly upset,’ Ryla argues, picking up Biba and patting her on the back.
‘Let her come,’ I sigh, holding my arms out for her. Ryla brings her over, setting her down carefully on the sofa.
Biba reaches for my face with her small hands, and I flinch. I can’t bear that I do, but that’s the truth of it. Her hands are a weapon.
‘Be careful, it’s delicate,’ Vullis warns gently.
Biba touches my temple and ear, her fingers cold and smooth. Warmth spreads across the side of my head. The room stops swaying and my vision steadies. The throbbing across my head eases, turning from a vomit-inducing migraine to a dull headache behind my eyes. The world narrows, dark edges creeping into my periphery so I can only see Biba’s face. She is still on the verge of tears, but she hiccups a joyous laugh.
And now I understand. I snatch her hand away and everyone startles.
‘She meant no harm, Ris,’ Kopiro says, alarmed.
‘I know. I just don’t want her to have to deal with me like this.’ I bite back what I desperately want to tell her: that her kin did this to me, in some twisted form of protection. Why are we cursed to hurt the ones we love? ‘Thank you, Biba. Let the adults talk now; go back to sleep.’
She reluctantly follows Vullis as he beckons her back to bed with the doll Dodi. Her face is full of confusion, as if she’s questioning what she did. She didn’t look like that after the otter-cat; then it wasa detached curiosity. But this stabs at the heart of me. Am I cruel to distance myself?
Ryla takes out that infernal map and unfurls it on the table. We all stare at it like it’s a cursed object. No one wants to speak first, and we wait until Vullis has returned from putting Biba to bed. They leave me to break the silence.
‘I have to do it,’ I say eventually.
‘You can’t,’ Ryla hisses, slapping their hand on the table.
‘Ryla,’ Kopiro snaps, placing a hand on their shoulder.
