Something thatalmostlooks like pride casts over Ava’s face, and Sloan nods. “We all have our strengths and our weaknesses. If we choose to focus on the negative things that make us different, we miss the opportunity to see the positive.”
They raise their sword, swinging it at me, and I throw up my forearm, summoning a shield. The sword bounces right off it.
“See?” says Sloan. “I cannot do that. Nor can Issy.” They sheathe their sword again. “I think you’re doing a great job. We’ve had a few setbacks, but not even an Oracle can predicteverything. In the end, we’re all human. We’re all just doing the best we can.” They hold up their stump again, rolling back the fabric of the sleeve once more as it starts to loosen. “People look at our differences and underestimate us. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:letthemunderestimate you. Then prove them wrong.”
I watch Sloan walk away, my forearm still throbbing from Isobel’s fist. I wish I knew how to fight without magic, but I suppose I do need to stop focusing on the negative things that make me different.
PerhapsIam the one doing the underestimating; I am the one who needs to prove myself wrong. Tiernan always believed in me, and yet I find it so hard to believe in myself. My heart sinks. As I turn, I nearly run head-on into Osheen. He starts to sign, but I can’t deal with more reminders of heartache right now, so I turn away.
Ava gives me a look as I move past her. I don’t stop until I reach the small pond where Ghendor is drinking. He lifts his head, and water droplets splash onto my face. Ghendor snuffs at me, nudging my shoulder. “I know, boy, I miss him too,” I say as I stroke his muzzle.
I reach into the pack against his flank and remove a small cheesecloth with a few berries, offering them to him. As Ghendor nibbles the berries, a hand settles on my shoulder and I startle. Iturn to face Chiyo. No kohl lines her lower lashes today, making the purple halfmoons beneath her eyes more obvious. Her hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail—no accessories, no special attention to detail—and the blue is fading to a lustrous silver.
For once, she seems utterly drained, grief in her eyes. “Are you alright?” she gestures to me.
My first instinct is to smile and nod, but the smile never comes. I remain absolutely still, hoping not to lose the grip on my emotions. The subtle shake of my head has Chiyo reaching out to give my hand a small squeeze. She takes a deep breath, then glances backward to where Ava is fussing with her braids.
When Chiyo looks at me again, she seems slightly more pulled together. “It seems foolish to hold on to anger and grudges when …” She pauses, hesitating. “You never know what could happen.”
My heart spasms. I hate how easily the physical pain of being apart from Tiernan resurfaces.
“There’s no going back in time,” Chiyo continues. “But … talk to Osheen. I told Ava she should talk to Alys. And you should also talk to Ava.” Her eyes are pleading. “The Zenith is bloody strong. And the Purists are mental.”
She’s right. Unfortunately.
“Isobel and Sloan argue all the time. But they love each other. People who love each other fight. It’s just part of life, I suppose. I know what Osheen did was inexcusable. But life is so short.”
I smile faintly. “When did you get so wise?”
She makes a disgusted face. “Blame it on the sword that tried to claim my life.” Her grin lets me know she’s more than alright with joking about it.
“Speaking of blades, can you help me with the no-spin throw? I cannot seem to get it.”
“That’s because you were always distracted by a certain someone,” she teases. She looks immediately remorseful of herwords. “Come. Before we set up, we can do a few throws. The tree over there is a willing participant.”
Each step toward Dubh Carrig makes me feel sicker with grief. Even with the exhaustion weighing on me, even with logic glaring at me, each step feels more and more like giving up on Tiernan.
About four months ago, Tiernan gave up everything to get Alys and I to safety. Yet, here I am, walking away from him instead of running toward him. Every so often I swear I feel a sliver of his presence. Then it’s gone. A taunting reminder that he’s alive, but out of reach.
My breaths grow shallow as the horses canter through the winding pass within the valley. Ghendor has been docile; I know he senses my grief. He comes to a stop as soon as my chest grows painfully tight, as I struggle to gulp down any air. My vision blurs, tunneling as I think of Tiernan taking the fall for me.
This cannot be the end of us, but what can I do when grief and exhaustion weigh on me?
Ghendor tosses his head as I battle within myself to keep up the appearance of being unbothered. To be alright with heading to Dubh Carrig instead of toward Mainland. Of wastingyet more time.
Suddenly, Chiyo is beside Ghendor, looking up at me, one hand soothingly stroking the horse’s mane. We’re on a forest path with nothing much to look at, but everyone has stopped, and all eyes are on me. I hadn’t even realized. The mortifying awareness causes my chest to grow even tighter. I squeeze my eyes shut, and Chiyo rests her hand on my knee.
When I open my eyes again, Ava is there beside her. “Dismount,” she says.
Getting off Ghendor is quite the task. I stumble off to the side, my head spinning, and sit down clumsily on the ground just off the trail. With my head tucked between my knees, I force down breath after breath. A hand gently rests on my back, and I don’t know whose, but I don’t budge.
The old fairytales that always made me feel better have no place here anymore. Not when I know there’s truth to them. Not when Enidwen was real, her spirit apparently living within Carys … throughmybloodline. Not when the prophecy has two different powers coming after Carys and me. Not when the entire kingdom, maybe even the whole realm is in danger.
The hand on my back moves in slow, soothing circles, and eventually my head clears. Slowly, breathing becomes easier. I glance up to find Alys sitting beside me. She shifts, getting into my line of sight to sign, “Tell me what you see, feel …? You know the routine, sweetling.”
I close my eyes again. “There’s not much to see,” I say, given that it’s been much of the same—hills, mountains, fields and the occasional herds of goats or sheep.
When I open my eyes, the look in hers almost pains me.
