The king and queen had assured the citadel that they would send aid to the affected villages. I’ve seen carts heading out of the citadel loaded with supplies, albeit less so these days. So if what Pigeon says is true, why did their help come with limitations? How could Bash let this slide? Surely Card can’t be barreling into a commitment with someone who would sit back and allow people to be displaced, to go hungry?
“If I’m from the citadel, then why are you helping me?” I ask.
“Fliss, you climbed the Spinal Steppe in acotton dress.You’re made of strong stuff, but no one should be left to fend for themselves. My help costs nothing.”
She thinks I’m…strong? It sinks in that I haven’t made a new friend in a very long time. I haven’t been able to. Even when I was young, it was impossible. Back in school, anytime there was an argument, the teachers would always make me tell them what happened, even if I wasn’t involved. I had less control over my words as a child, and I discovered quickly that staying silent got me in trouble too. So I snitched when someone broke a glass window with their ball. I ratted out who stole all a teacher’s candles. And when it was time for the summer solstice dance, I accidentally let slip who one of our classmates had a crush on. Then promptly got slapped. I’m not like Card, who glows with confidence and converses with ease. People don’t flock to me. I’m a wary acquaintance, someone to be polite to in case I go running to the queen.
Gods, I really want Pigeon to like me.
All I can manage is “Thank you.”
Pigeon stands and dusts snow off her coat. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
I hobble up. She hooks my good arm across her shoulders, then holds me around my waist for support. With a squeeze of my hand, she smiles.
“Can you try to walk?”
I attempt a step on my injured ankle and pain shoots up my leg like a punch to the nose. It has me reeling, so I inhale and focus on the pine scent of Pigeon’s coat. Keep a cool head like her and I’ll be home in no time.
“Okay, good job,” she says, unperturbed. “Slow is fine. I have a horse at the bottom of the ridge, and I can take you to a healer who’ll fix you up. Once we’re down the mountain, we’ll head there.”
We shuffle forward in the snow, Pigeon carrying most of my weight. With her around, I’m confident I’m not going to die anymore. It takes a while, but we eventually reach her horse, and she rides in front as we make our way down the mountain, until the snow fades to stone, and farther on, until the trees welcome us back to ground level. The overcast light beyond the canopy casts hazy shadows as she encourages me to keep talking to distract from the pain and cold. I’m telling her about the white flowers I’ve been researching for my best friend’s wedding (with five weeks to go, it’s a little too soon to cut and bunch them yet) when I notice we’re heading west, and this particular line of trees looks suspiciously familiar.Run,something tells me.Flee.
Wait. Was I wrong to trust her after all?
“Oh, crap, I forgot about this—” Pigeon says.
My vision suddenly spins, and like falling off a mountain precipice, I plummet into darkness.
Chapter Six
I become aware of a warmth against my forehead and the comforting scent of flowers. Pigeon is next to me, gripping my waist to keep the weight off my ankle, but the dampness of my clothes is no longer causing me to shiver. Instead I’m dry and warm and— Did we…? Wait,where are we? Weren’t we just in the forest on her horse? I’d been telling her about different types of wedding flowers when—what?
“Look who it is,” Willoh Vane says, taking his hand off my forehead. He stands in front of us with that infuriating smirk. “You ended up getting past my wards after all.”
I whip my head to Pigeon.
“Thisis the healer you meant?” I ask her. My eyes dart back to Willoh in a flutter of agitation. “Wait,your wards?”
“Sorry, you know I can’t take her back to the citadel,” Pigeon says to him. “I assumed someone would be home to heal her.”
“It’s fine,” he replies. “Need any supplies while you’re here?”
Pigeon shakes her head, then unhooks my arm from around her neck. I wobble and Willoh reaches out to take my elbow. There’sno other choice than to lean into him as Pigeon steps back and fixes her satchel straps. I’m blindsided. Has Pigeon heard the rumors that Willoh’s magic destroyed that tree? He might be the cause of all her problems.How are they friends?
“I need to ride back to the mountain before the light disappears,” Pigeon says, then gives me a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay from here, Fliss. Maybe invest in some warmer clothes though, and perhaps some proper walking shoes.”
“Thank you, Pigeon,” I say, “for everything.”
She laughs. “If you ever venture this far out of your cage again, maybe we’ll cross paths. I’d best be off. Take care, you guys.”
She jogs into the line of trees, bow already in hand.
I look anywhere but at Willoh. In the center of the wide clearing we’re in, there’s a beautiful pastel-stone cottage with a sloped roof and ivy clambering up the walls, the two floors separated by thick wooden lining. Beside the front door sits an idyllic bench and, in front of the downstairs window, bunches of chamomile flowers hang upside down to dry in the afternoon sun. On either side of the gravel path, wildflowers and grass grow freely across the large stretch of land. It’s overrun with a lush rainbow of flora that carries a bouquet of aromas on the breeze, a sweet tangy cocktail of flowers, but there are certain sections that are tended to, organized. There’s a wooden stable by the line of trees far to the left, and—is that an herb garden over there, too? Those look like planters and trellises. I’m intensely curious to further inspect this magnificent garden, but Willoh Vane tilts his head to the side and draws my gaze to him.
“Well,” he says, and quirks an eyebrow at me, “what did you do this time, Princess?”
“Your wards were the ones that made me faint?” I bite back, not letting the topic go just yet.
