“When?” Calya asked.
A shrug came in response. “A few days ago at least, I think.” Lowe eyed the activity on the ground, standing on the other side of the window from her. “Can we trust the lieutenant?”
Calya went toward the door. “I like Orren well enough, but he’s still a Guardsman, and if Brint contradicts their orders, I don’t know where his loyalty falls. Trust no one.”
Their eyes met across the room. A silence fell between them, so loud with the unspoken thoughts clearly on both of their minds that it was all but visible. Palpable.
Not even me. Especially me.
Calya left, her strides purposeful. Measured. She wadded up the tangle of emotions he caused in her and threw them down the hole in her chest where her heart should be.
Only once this was all over, when she sat behind the grand director’s desk at Helm Naval’s head office—only then would she let herself feel something over her few erstwhile days with the ranger.
Chapter Eighteen
Froley hadn’t tipped off the Avenor Guard contingent that something was amiss: the Coalition had done it themselves. Not directly, but upping and vanishing, leaving the office on the main street a mess, didn’t scream of subtlety.
Calya had dealt with the Coalition enough to know that when they wished, they could be inconspicuous, using a delicate touch instead of a deliberate blow. Abandoning their main base in town and doing nothing to mask their departure had been a choice. Less obvious to her was their motivation. Did they simply not care, thinking themselves untouchable… or were they running as surely as Eren had?
Calya scarfed down a quick breakfast of buttered toast as she went to meet Lowe on the inn’s front porch. He glanced at her as she approached, mouth working as if he might say something, but then he closed it. She pretended not to have noticed his momentary indecision. It was better this way, for the both of them. No opportunity for the wrong thing to be said, and they wouldn’t have to slog through the tedium of undoing any harm done later. Things were already fucked between them. Time to put her walls back in place after she’d foolishly let them down. Thorns out, and no allowing herself to think about the disappointment that tried to well up.
She gave a small, disgusted shake of her head that some part of herself still entertained such feelings. No sentimentality, for or from either of them.
The Avenor Guard men spilled out from the stable’s small courtyard. Roughly half already had their mounts, while several more trickled in and out of the mages’ office building. A small huddle formed around Orren where he stood in front of the office’s front door.
“Notice anyone missing?” Calya asked, stopping beside Lowe.
He scanned the group. “No Avenor.”
Calya hummed in agreement. “Where are we searching?”
“Somewhere west of the other site. Toward the mountains.”
Another groom emerged from the stables, three already tacked-up horses in tow. Ollas and Zhenya emerged from the mages’ office building, both carrying sturdy saddlebags.
“We’re going back to the village.”
Calya startled as Eunny’s voice came from over her shoulder.
“Sorry.” A grin briefly lit Eunny’s still-wan face. “Zhen told you?”
“I’ve gotten the short notes,” Calya said, jerking her thumb at Lowe. “We’re going after Brint. We’ll stop him, and whatever this is. Any word on Anadae?”
“No, and the storm last night didn’t help things.”
“I’m sure she?—”
Eunny gripped Calya’s arm. “The Coalition wanted to make a wellspring. That’s what my mother’s deal with the Eyllics was supposed to be. The poison for a wellspring.” She released Calya, nodding grimly to both her and Lowe. “Be careful. Bioon said it never got that far. That it was always for Graelynd, but intentions don’t mean shit.”
“You be careful,” Calya said. “We’re not the ones putting our hands on poison.” She hoped. And the villagers weren’t poisoned, not in the same way. Or, at least, that was what she’d been told.
With a final nod, Eunny went to mount up.
As Calya watched her friends ride off, a soft hiss from behind caught both her and Lowe’s attention. Froley indicated over their shoulder to a table at the back of the room. The young research assistant, Lily, who had given Lowe the hand-drawn map on the first day sat alone, looking pale and worried.
“Found her hiding in the root cellar this morning. Gently now,” Froley murmured as they went to join the young woman. “The kid’s scared, and none of this is her fault.”
Lowe went first, pulling out a chair next to the young woman while Calya sat across. “Lily,” he said softly. “Do you remember Miss Helm? I mentioned that we came over together to look into the project you’re working on.”
