When I open my eyes,I’ve lost track of how many times it’s occurred. Lifting my head feels like a chore, but as I slowly come to and I remember the state in which Tiernan had been in when last I saw him, I bolt upright with his name on my lips. Everything around me jostles, making me reach out to steady myself.
Someone reaches for me instead, and I turn to find a very familiar face staring back at me.
Osheen.
My heart leaps, then sinks. I rub my hand over my face, the movement feeling unnatural and stilted. There are bags of gods know what lying around and a fabric of some sort over us. As if … are we in a covered wagon? I feel along beneath me, finding straw and a scratchy sheet. “Tell me everything has been a nightmare,” I say to Osheen.
He shakes his head, his blue eyes duller than I’ve ever seen them. “We’re on our way to Siad Nahar,” he signs, fingerspelling the last two words.
He fills me in on what occurred while I healed from the magical expenditure. We’ve been traveling already for days. Sloan and Isobel stayed behind to hopefully get moreinformation on Tiernan and keep an eye on the situation at Paramount. We’re traveling under the guise of traders and, by some miracle, haven’t drawn the attention of Peacekeepers or anyone else.
My heart feels cracked into a million pieces, but no tears come. It seems I’ve somehow cried myself dry.
Since hearing Caiolair’s voice in my head back in Paramount, my body seems reluctant to retain any warmth. I sit huddled in the wagon with two blankets drawn over me as I try to stop my occasional shivering. This time, it’s Chiyo beside me; this time, it’s been two weeks since the debacle at the castle.
“Who or what do you think Caiolair is?” Chiyo signs after I tell her about my encounter when I faced the sovereign.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “But I think he’s somehow tied to Rheon.”
For a while, Chiyo doesn’t speak, then at last, she says, “I didn’t want to leave him either, you know. But he would want us to go on. I’m holding on to the hope that Murtagh’s people will be able to somehow rescue him.”
If he’s still alive.
I look away from her welling eyes, determined not to cry anymore. Not when all I want to do is run right back to Paramount and find the man that my heart aches for.
It’s another couple of weeks of traveling through pastures and brush—abandoning our wagon off route at some point—before we move into a woodsy area. We settle beside a small brook to rest, but as we’re getting ready to set off again, an odd, prickly feeling crawls over my skin. It’s similar to that sensation I experienced before we were ambushed last time. I search the trees for any sign of attackers, but I only find Winnie doing the same. We lock eyes and then slowly turn toward a thick set of bushes just beyond where we’d briefly camped.
Towering over the bushes is a massive brown stag, each of its antlers as long as my arm. There seems to be a strange white glow around it, its eyes eerily sentient as it stares at us. The rest of the camp goes still. No one moves. No one dares to. Not when that stag could possibly maul us. Yet it tilts its head almost imperceptibly before it turns and walks away.
Winnie’s eyes snap to mine, and I focus on her lips as she says, “I think we need to follow it.”
She’s been leading us with such calmness and such grace. Neris beams with pride at her friend.
“Alright, let’s go then,” Ava signs.
Osheen helps me onto the horse we’d been riding in tandem and mounts after me. We take our place beside Winnie as everyone mounts up.
The stag never looks back at us but continues to calmly move through the forest. The woods grow denser and denser until we have to ride in nearly a single line.
Soon the trees give way to a wide clearing with a cave set into the rocky hillside. The stag has disappeared, and Winnie is suddenly tense in her saddle, her horse unmoving. I look over at her, at the way she fidgets with her pocket and gnaws on her lip. Her hands are shaking so hard on the horse’s reins that the creature shifts uncomfortably.
“Winnie,” I call gently.
She glances over at me, eyes wide. “Sorry,” she says. “Just … need a moment. Caves bring back … memories.” She blows out a breath and rubs her hands on her trousers.
“It’s alright. Take the time you need,” I tell her, ignoring Ava’s very clear impatience.
It doesn’t take long before Winnie dismounts her horse. “Let’s do this,” she says with a tight smile.
We dismount our horses before stepping into the cave. Alys casts a light, illuminating the space around us and revealing that the cave only goes several paces deep. An almost electrifying sensation exudes from the dead end, the hairs rising on the back of my neck. No one speaks for a while, as if we’re all at a loss for words.
Then Winnie says, “This is it.” Water seeps from somewhere above, streaking down the cave wall. But otherwise, there’s nothing more to it than the strange buzz that, somehow, feels very familiar.
“It feels like the wards outside the Verge,” Alys signs.
Winnie steps closer to the wall, pressing her hands against it before looking over her shoulder. “You all might want to step back,” she says.
So we do. We retreat to the mouth of the cave as she clenches and unclenches her hand against the cave wall. Her body tenses for a moment, then as all the rigidity seems to flow out from her back and shoulders, a light begins to shine through the wall. The ground shakes beneath us. It takes me a moment to realize that the stone is cracking, splitting. Then it crumbles completely, debris scattering, and sunlight pours into the small grotto.
