“I do not know who I am either,” she whispered.
“That is all right,” he said. “We can find out together.”
He did not say that some paths find you whether you seek them or not.
A fragile silence settled over them. The leaves whispered overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a merchant shouted about a sale on turnips, faint and far away, like another world entirely.
Very carefully, Essie leaned into him, resting her weight against his side. He wrapped an arm around her, steady and warm, holding her like something both precious and strong.
She let out a long, shuddering breath, the kind that feels like finally settling down a burden no one else could see.
“Nythir,” she whispered, “I do not know if I can be anything like my mother.”
“You do not need to be,” he said. “Just be Essie. That is enough.”
This time, he felt it when her body loosened under his arm. She did not say she believed him, but something in her posture shifted, just a little, as if a tight knot had eased.
They stayed like that for a while, listening to the rustle of branches and the distant clatter of the town reassembling itself after their dramatic exit.
“Come,” he murmured at last. “The others are worried.”
Essie hesitated, then nodded. When she unfolded herself and pushed to her feet, her legs wobbled.
Nythir rose with her, ready to catch her if she swayed.
Her hand found his without thought, fingers threading between his like it had always been meant to fit there.
He took it.
And this time, when they walked back toward Greyhollow, he did not let go.
29
Lucy
How to travel with a grumpy man: ignore all pleas for silence.
Lucy hurried to catch up to Basil, who walked like he was fleeing the big bad but couldn’t be bothered to actually break into a run.
“You can’t just drop your lore like you’re commenting on cloud patterns!”
“My lore?” Basil asked, speeding up.
Sadly for him, Lucy had spent years chasing a princess who speed-walked out of her problems. She was built for this.
“Yes, your lore! ‘My brother-in-law runs the most notorious guild.’ ‘My dead wife is not dead.’ ‘I have a beastkin step-son.’ What else are you hiding? Are you even human, or is that a secret too?”
“How do you talk so fast?” Basil groaned. “And he is not my step-son.”
“He kind of is. You never divorced her. Just faked a death.”
“She has a point,” Sylva said, tail flicking.
The agreement landed oddly. Sylva didn’t side with people casually. Lucy clocked it as a coincidence and moved on, even as something quiet in her chest stayed alert.
Basil slowed, defeated in the way only a man haunted by past decisions could be. “Why are you so interested in my past?”
“I’m not! I’m just… concerned. I need to know who I’m traveling with. I absolutely do not care about your incredibly suspicious and definitely uninteresting history.”
