“To our family, gone but not lost, we gather to say our last goodbye.
To express our love, and forever cherish them,
In our stones, their memory won't dim.”
The melody reaches its end, and the time has come to say goodbye. Despite the blood dampening my clothes, it is a hard thing to place the body amid the flames. The heat licks at my arms, but I have long since learned that the heat doesn’t bother me as it should. Dealing with lava and magma has given me a thick skin.
“Say hello to our family in Vidalena,” I say down to the dead hunter, and lean forward. “Go with the Stone.”
Once his body is laid to rest, I stand and watch. I wonder how many may have been buried in this place—this old altar with a blessed camp space for soldiers. How many Enduares came back from battle half alive, and gave up their ghosts as soon as the song of home touched their sharp ears.
Having spent my days slicing, and my evenings trying to forget, it fell to me more than once to return back home and tell their families of their deaths. Two years into the Great War, we stopped visiting homes and started posting lists in the city centers.
My heart still hurts for their brothers and sisters who longed for their return. I hope the fallen are resting well.
We stand in quiet reverie, save Ulla’s humming and the gentle throb of the beacon.
When I look up, I meet Ra'Salore’s gaze. It is… softer than normal. It moves me to compassion. I wouldn’t want to force a soldier to sleep in a haunted place.
“When would you like to leave tonight?” I ask. We have had only a few hours of rest, but now that we have lost our guide, it would be worth it to leave earlier.
His jaw tightens. “If you say the word, I will go, My King.”
That isn’t a yes.
When I look at Ulla and Niht, I see the weariness etched in the lines around their eyes and mouths. “Never mind. This place is safe. We shall stay the rest of the night.”
Ulla visibly relaxes, but I don’t catch the rest of the conversation as the three of them move to burn the creature that killed Turalyon. Normally, I would have abhorred the idea of having their ashes anywhere near each other, but we simply don’t have enough wood for two fires.
It will have to be sufficient.
The tent flap closes behind me again as I crawl back in, and I sink to the ground atop my bedroll. The hole in my chest feels a little wider.
The ground shudders and moves under the weight of Ra'Salore’s stone bending. He buries the ashes, the memories… the lost souls.
I wonder if loss will be the tune my life is written to for the rest of my days.
Chapter 8
Emerald
ESTELA
Two days pass, and the metal collar chafes against my neck. It’s made of silver, studded with rubies, and I swear, it feels harder to swallow and draw breath.
Huddled in the corner of the cage, I have my new gown on. Rholker stares at me from the other side of the room as the comfort woman pours another bucket of steaming water into the bath. The sound makes me sweat.
“The Six instructed me to let you rest for a few days before I bring you back to stay in the room I’ve prepared in the palace,” he says.
The words flow over me,past me, without ever really sinking into my mind. He took me out yesterday for a short walk. It was cold, and there were patches of snow clinging to the trees.
I’d been right about being near the lumber fields. A few of the humans snuck glances at our party—but all turned away quickly, grateful that it was not them paraded around by the prince like chattel.
“The bath is ready, My King,” the comfort woman declares. She wears a tight-fitting leather dress today, and her silky ravenhair is half-tied up with a vegetable-dyed ribbon the color of autumn leaves.
I groan, preparing to be thrust into the wateryet again.Ever since I was tortured, I can’t touch it without feeling like I’m going to drown. It’s just water, and yet…
Rholker’s eyes dip down from my face to the bare expanse of my chest. Giant women wear deep, square necklines and corsets to push up their breasts, which are typically scarred by artists to enhance bulk and shape—this one is more modest than most because the tip of the Fuegorra barely sticks out from behind the fabric. Rholker doesn’t want anyone to see that I’ve been marked by the enemy.
