“It’s been like that ever since I woke up at the healing house in Sarral,” Kasmira says quietly, before either of us can ask. “The shaking comes and goes. It doesn’t seem to be getting any worse, though, so I’m not worrying about it—and neither should you two. Just don’t let me keep my head in the sky too long, all right?”
I press my lips together, hoping I have enough self-control to respect her wishes.
A distant call echoes down to us, and Kasmira’s shoulders slump in relief. “I’d better get back up there,” she says quickly, turning to go. “And I’m sorry for walking in on your it’s-about-damn-time.”
As she shuts the door, Meredy bites her lip and grins. “Where were we?”
I throw the blanket over both of our heads in answer.
***
In the first ten days of our hasty journey back to Karthia, the only other ship we see is a small Lyrian fishing vessel cutting through choppy seas the day after a storm.
Still, I’m so worried about Kasmira and her shaking hand that some days, like today, I keep her company at the helm—even though my girlfriend is waiting for me belowdecks, fletching arrows in the double bed we made from our cots.
She’s promised to do unspeakable things with me later tonight, and she readily reminds me of those things when I see her at supper, as most of the crew crowds around the table to fight over a bowl of boiled potatoes.
She doesn’t say anything out loud. She doesn’t need to. Our eyes meet across the table, and the look she gives me is so deep, it’s as if her hands are all over me right here, in front of everyone.
The moment is broken when Nipper shoves her scaly head into my lap, smoke curling from her mouth as she begs for scraps.
Meredy shakes her head at the dragon’s antics, then begins telling a story about a pet she had when she and Evander were little. She feels his absence each day just like I do, and we remember him together.
The days at sea, which once felt long, fly by as I practice with my sword, as Meredy tells me silly stories about the pets of Noble Park and their owners to keep us both from worrying about Valoria, as we dance and keep Evander’s memory alive.
“Two days to go,” Kasmira sighs over the sounds of Azelie’s animated conversation with the boatswain at supper one night. “One, if I can help it...”
“Don’t push it,” I insist. A pang of guilt jabs my insides as I say it, because the words aren’t just for Kasmira’s sake. Even knowing full well that Valoria needs us now, I’m dreading the moment we arrive in Grenwyr Harbor.
Meredy pulls something from her pocket, leaning over the remains of her supper—boiled potatoes, and a more meager portion than yesterday at that—to hand it to me. “We’re going home, my Sparrow,” she says, smiling as she watches me hold up my newly polished master necromancer’s pin in the dim light of the mess hall. She fastens it to my tunic in a spot right over my heart, a reminder that once, I was someone who mattered. “I have a feeling you’re going to need this.”
“Thank you,” I say as warmly as I can manage while my insides turn cold.
We’ve been gone less than two months, yet when I left Karthia, I already felt like a stranger on its misty shore.
I don’t want to think of what else might have changed there in our brief time away.
Of course, some changes—as Meredy reminds me every day—are good ones. So maybe it’s not what’s changed in Karthia that scares me.
Maybe I’m afraid of what remains the same.
X
It’s quiet in the city. A restless, uneasy quiet that reminds me of the aftermath of Hadrien’s Shades running loose through the streets. Even in the markets, usually bustling places for meeting, only a few people linger. Most of them barely look up as Meredy and I pass by with our beastly companions, having left Azelie, Kasmira, and the rest of the crew to secure the ship and tend to business at the harbor. The odd person who does bother to give us more than a glance looks for too long—as though they suspect us of something. Palace guards stand at the four corners of every square, armed with more than just their spears. Each one holds a crossbow, and I have a feeling the satchels at their sides must be full of the flammable potions I’ve used to kill Shades in the past.
Valoria has equipped them far better than King Wylding ever did.
The guards nod stiffly to us, and a few mutter a greeting, but somehow I’d feel safer if they were gone and I could hear laughter, or even an argument over the price of bread.
We pass buildings destroyed in the Battle of Grenwyr City,many of which bear evidence of attempted repairs—abandoned tools, mostly—but also signs of anger and further destruction: new windows shattered by rocks, the broken glass still framed by freshly painted sills. New murals of Vaia’s faces—including Change—marred by scorch marks and curse words. There are even the beginnings of foundations for new buildings, places where the land has been cleared and a few stones laid, but no sign of any crews working.
Most baffling of all are the iron rods placed at regular intervals along the main road through the city, which don’t seem to serve a purpose.
The Wyldings’ palace awaits us at the top of the cliffs overlooking the sea, its white marble walls dripping with red light as the sun sets. When the wind blows, it carries the scent of the palace itself toward us—sweet, with a hint of spice, like the bergamot and lemon trees hidden within its courtyards.
But beneath the sweetness lies something bitter that brings me back to the Battle of Grenwyr City with a single whiff. Ash and sorrow rest heavy on my tongue, becoming more cloying with every breath.
For the first time in memory, guards outnumber the wildflowers on the palace hill.
