We make it to the other side of the bridge. Somewhere around noon, we find a stopping point. Similar to Dubh Carrig, rolling hills and mountains surround us, but there aren’t any houses or stables. Or people, for that matter. Not as far as we can see.
Kilkenny helps me off Ghendor and holds on to me for a little longer than necessary. I don’t complain, of course.
He peers down at me thoughtfully. “You should try to eat something.”
I smile half-heartedly. “Now don’t start being all overprotective, Kilkenny.”
He smiles back and presses a kiss to my forehead. I want to wrap my arms around him and soak up his warmth. It wouldbe so much easier to just pretend that Osheen didn’t betray us all and that Taig is safe and sound. I suck in a shaky breath and Kilkenny gently pulls away, his face searching mine for signs of pain or injury.
I don’t bother to put on a brave face, but I assure him that I’m alright.
While we munch on apples and stale bread, no one speaks. None of us has the energy to talk about much. It isn’t until we’re getting ready to leave again that Alys signs, “How are you feeling?”
I shrug one shoulder. Numb at times, I want to say. Distraught at other times, and overall exhausted. Instead, I say, “My head still throbs a little, but I don’t want you to use any more of your healing. You’ve been spending a lot of energy on me, and you need it for the rest of this journey.”
She doesn’t argue, knowing that it’s true. Each time she’s tended to me, she’s drained a bit of her own energy. Still, just as Kilkenny did, she wordlessly assesses me for any signs of pain.
“Alys, I’m alright.”
She nods and slides her colorful headscarf back from her forehead. “When we get to the Verge, you need a nice, long rest.”
“We all do.”
She smiles. “Absolutely. We should be there before night falls tomorrow.”
To my surprise, it’s not relief that fills me, but dread. I fight to forget Lord Iywan’s words—there were no survivors—and focus on making it to the Verge. With other Mages there, it should be safe for me to exist as a Basduun. But will I need protection, or will others need to be protected from me? A slight shudder hits me as I tuck the terrifying thought away.
Still, I smile back at Alys before she saunters off to prepare Mirren. Chiyo stands in front of Ffion, gently caressing the horse’s snout. She looks my way as I’m about to walk past. There’s so much I wantto say to her. I want to apologize for the friendship that she also lost. I want to ask her how she’s holding up, but my mind fixates on the silver at the roots of her hair, even more pronounced now with the blue dye almost completely faded.
“I like your hair,” I sign to her. “The silver looks good.”
She makes a face. “I hate it. Mam was completely grey by the time she was twenty-two. So, I guess that gives me two more years until I look like an old woman myself. Or like old man Tiernan.” She smirks.
I chuckle. “You don’t look old. Neither does your brother, or even your mam.”
Kilkenny walks by, waving his arm my way before hurriedly motioning, “Are you two finished gossiping? Let’s go.”
I exhale heavily. “Killjoy.” The light that appears on his face is unmistakable before a smile crawls across his lips. The time I first accidentally called himKilljoycould be a lifetime ago. It’s unbelievable that it has been almost two months since I was taken from my home.
A multitude of emotions plays over his face. Before I can mull over it for too long, Kilkenny takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
I’m grateful for the gesture as it draws my mind away from our problems. “To the Verge?” I say.
He nods. “To the Verge.”
Navy blue clouds glide past the nearly full moon and I’m mesmerized by the gentle yellow-orange glow that lightens the otherwise dark sky. I lean back against the tree, staring up at the scattering of stars while anxiety swirls through my mind. Alys and Chiyo are asleep, but I’m unable to find much rest, so I volunteer to keep Kilkenny company while he takesthe first watch.
He sighs as he plops down beside me with a magically lit lantern and holds out an apple. I shake my head. Not only am I sick and tired of apples, but I doubt my stomach can handle food. He sets the lantern down in front of us and signs single-handedly, “You have to eat something.”
I take the apple from him and turn it over in my hands.
“What’s on your mind?”
I offer him a half smile. “That’s an ironic question coming from a Whisperer.”
He grins, his high cheekbones accentuated in the moonlight, even beneath his stubble. He bites into his apple, glances up at the moon for a moment, and then faces me again. The question is written clearly on his face—he still wants to know what I’m thinking.
I heave a sigh. “I can’t help but feel like something ominous is coming.”
