Farrah looked back to the fire and met emerald eyes, shining with patience and kindness and love. Elias’s posture lifted as he smiled wider at her. A sparkle flickering in his gaze sent her heart racing.
“Go,” Brela whispered. “I’ll entertain the Severinians.”
She left Farrah with a kiss on the cheek, strutted to the fire where Elias pressed a kiss to her forehead, and settled herself into Cason’s side as she began another long story of her early years as an assassin.
It was only a few minutes before Elias joined Farrah in the tents they had set up for the night. He was just as patient as Brela had been, letting Farrah talk until there were no more words left.
So he gave her words instead. He told her how much he loved her, for everything she was, and when she kissed him and guided his hands to her skin, Elias reminded her that there was just as much beauty and gentleness in his touch as there were in his words.
When they were spent, he tucked Farrah into his arms and held fast, even when the nightmares tore her from sleep.
Hours later, when it was their turn to keep watch, she heard Brela wake from her own nightmares. This time, it didn’t surprise her to hear the comforting words Cason offered Brela as her friend vomited everything she’d eaten that night.
In that moment, Farrah hoped that maybe a vaarasuxa could learn to survive without meat, because maybe, just maybe, there was a chance the fire wielder could change for her friend.
37
The Shadow Temple
Valisea had always been beautiful to Brela.
Calesevain Lake’s waters, though not as clear as they had once been, still found a way to shine. The sun highlighted the greens and yellows of endless rolling hills, the rocks provided hiding places for foxes and smaller creatures she’d never bothered to learn the names of, and tall grasses and flowers hid zivox—antelope-like carnivores with a knack for scaring the shit out of them when they leapt out of their path at the last second, just before their horses stepped on the beasts.
Poor Serill had been frightened half to death the first time one jumped over his mare, blood dripping from the prairie dog latched in its mouth. The prince was now much too focused on the ground to do much else. Everyone else had their eyes trained on the horizon for real danger, seeing as the zivox were not interested in attacking horses bigger than them.
Having some distance from the wall was a relief to everyone in the party but Brela, though she couldn’t complain that Cason’s senses were back to almost-normal levels. He’d been able to pick up on the two small patrols that ventured south of the shadow temple, guiding them to different valleys and outcroppings to hide their presence.
If either of those patrols had sun-blessed men with a perception affinity, they weren’t as strong as Cason. It could have been her own magic hiding their group, or perhaps the large amount of wildlife that had overrun this part of Valisea was enough of a distraction to perception magic. Cason had to have one hell of an ability to focus considering Brela had never seen so many animals, and never seen the zivox so brave.
This is what happened when the local towns were no longer hunting.
When there were no more local towns.
Though she did her best not to get her hopes up, she couldn’t help but be disappointed when Cason only shrugged off his prickling senses as animals or a patrol. The Veil Worshippers wouldn’t be out this far anyway. It’s not like there were good places to hide any more than a few people at a time, and it’s not like they would find any stable place here to establish a solid rebellion.
Wouldn’t that be her job now as the Veil Scholar? It’s what her father would have done, rallying what was left of them to fight back or protect those who could not protect themselves.
But what was left to protect?
The small towns they passed might not have been burned to the ground, but they couldn’t be described as anything more than ghost towns. She didn’t even know the names of the towns, destroyed even before her own home had been raided. Each building that somehow remained standing had been picked clean by looters or defaced by soldiers. Every stake in the ground, every dried puddle of blood, every chain or rope tied between posts sent Brela’s stomach churning.
No one hid that they’d each vomited at least once.
Brela would have, too, if she had actually eaten anything during the day that could have been heaved. If she hadn’t spent most of the night hours vomiting her guts up while Cason held her hair back.
She didn’t know if it was a good thing that she’d become numb to the horrors around her. She’d witnessed things far worse than dried blood between the ages of three and nine. She’d suffered in different ways after that.
Her friends knew it, too. The looks Cason continued to give her as they walked through each unknown town were filled with sorrow. Pain and guilt laced the few words he and Serill shared. She may have warned them before, but it was nothing compared to seeing what had become of Valisea with their own eyes.
All of those warnings, all of those preparations, did nothing to prepare herself for what the evening sun illuminated over the hills. In the distance, far from the city, gold and crimson flags of Anfroy sprinkled with Rooke green and silver adorned the mass of tents. An army of one thousand, at least—a new eyesore since she had escaped. Easy to bypass tomorrow, thanks to the landscape, but still frightening.
They were still an afterthought to Brela. Barely a flicker of recognition as she beheld the city with a gasp.
Because the shadow temple lands could still be considered a city, even if it was barely more than a crumbling mass of wood and brick and glass.
It was a fragile picture of what she remembered. Stronger in the east than the west and north, but still broken. The edges of the city had been turned to ashes, and the majority of buildings had outright collapsed or been burned, but somehow it was standing. As standing as it could be, when it appeared that even the slightest breeze might turn the remnants to dust.
Her eyes snagged first on the temple tower to the east, the only one left upright, though it didn’t look like it would be much longer. The image flashed. Kevrid hanging from the chains strung between each pillar, the birds clawing and pulling at his insides. Brela fought the urge to cover her ears at the scream that only lived in her mind.
