A need to speak with someone who had chosen to stand at the precipice and turn back. As he had.
Shaking himself from his stupor, Percy caught up with Seth, but I didn’t follow. The crowd dusted themselves off and returned to their day, carrying goods and flitting between shops. Pulling out my journal, I flipped to an empty page and plucked my quillfrom its binding.
I froze, staring at the pen bound in Cynthus leather. The pen Aethra had given me.
I’d never loved anyone the way I did her. For how eloquent I typically was, I could never quite put my feelings into words. They were not like Seth’s, not like those of normal men.
Perhaps there was no reason to complicate my desires: for her to be near, and safe.
Taking a breath, I jotted down a few notes, reminding myself that Seth was right. Aethra was clever. She would have traveled to the city after we were separated, hidden herself, and searched for us.
Once I’d jotted down the noblewoman’s appearance and strange procession, I snapped my journal closed and hurried after the others. I passed under a thick plant growing along a pillar and stopped to pluck one of its flowers and leaves.
Pale pink petals, unusual cord-like vines—another new species. Tucking the plant into my bag, I ducked between two men carrying heavy barrels and followed the congested roads back to the unassuming inn Seraphim had chosen.
Dim light from a fogged lantern illuminated our shady little inn. Pulling out a chair, I dropped my journal on the rickety wooden table and sat. Seth trotted down the stairs, Whisper in tow. The wiry gray dog slipped beneath my boots and laid down.
Finding a seat opposite me, Seth sighed and kicked his boots up on the table.
I stiffened and shot him a withering glare.
“What?” Seth asked.
A crack appeared in Seth’s defenses. Echoes of his thoughts slipped through, and I caught one.
‘Oh, gods.’
His walls reformed, and I lost the rest.
“Boots,” I said. “Off.”
Obeying, Seth slammed his feet back onto the floor. Rubbing my neck, I retrieved the flowers I’d collected thus far from my bag.
Percy leaned on my chair. “What have you stuck your nose in now?”
“Medicine, I hope,” I said, opening my journal. “I’ve alreadyseen five plants I can’t identify. Who knows what secrets Duath Nun is hiding?”
“Medicine for what?” Percy asked warily.
“Foryou. For your illness. Just because the Merchant Isles cannot cure you, doesn’t mean these people cannot.”
Fidgeting, Percy glanced at Seth for help. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to hope for that. I doubt—”
“Hopeis precisely why we are here,” I retorted. “I willalwayshave hope, Perse. There’s no reason to give up without trying.”
Seth sat forward, lighting up. “Let Eleos try,” he said. “Maybe he’s right.”
“Alright . . .” Percy said reluctantly.
Wood creaked as someone jogged down the steps. Seraphim emerged, looking like a proper warrior goddess. A long crimson toga fluttered around her boots, bound by a leather breastplate. “Any luck?” She asked, tying her waterfall of red locks back.
“No,” I answered. “But, Aethra has to be here somewhere.”
“Hm.” Seraphim’s eyebrows drew together, and her pale blue eyes flicked toward the door. “We’ll leave early tomorrow. Change inns. One of us should take Whisper, see if he picks up her trail outside city bounds.” She paused. “So, we should all get some rest.”
“Mm,” I agreed.
“That goes for you, too.” Seraphim tapped the table, getting my attention. “You’ll be no use to Aethra half-asleep.”
