“We come here every now and then just to…remember, I guess. To pray that the life here heals, that the north heals, and that we don’t have to steal to be heard,” she says, defiant tears threatening the corners of her eyes. “We know loss. We’ve lost houses, farms, livestock, healthy soil, entire villages.Fine,we can rebuild. But we’ve also lost people, loved ones, and those can’t be replaced. This talisman of rope is an old custom. It’s a prayer for the god that died here and a prayer for those lost after. I have siblings who need to eat. Tansy has grandparents who can’t walk well. What are we supposed to do? Just sit around and wait to die? The food in those trading wagons won’t be missed in the citadel. There’s plenty to go around.”
“They sent us a decent amount of supplies in the beginning: food, clean water, soil to place over the infertile land…” Tansy says, bitterly twisting her boot in the mud. “But when we tried petitioning the royals to send for sorcerers or scientists to investigate further and find a cure, the provisions they sent started to become scarce. There were pathetic excuses at first. Accusations that we were ungrateful and hostile, as if it wasourfault that we were angry about our livelihoods being destroyed. Eventually, they ignored all our requests, and the professionals in the citadel we contacted were more focused on the king’s health. No one was listening. We had no choice but to resort to something more drastic.”
I can understand their story, but—
“Simon,” I breathe.
The girls exchange a flash of guilt.
“Was that the guard’s name?” Pigeon asks quietly.
“Y-Yes—” I stutter, struggling to untangle the threads of who knows what, of what I can and can’t say. “Yes. He—He was twenty-three years old. His mother asked for orange marigolds at his funeral. He—”
I break off. The heaviness of the clearing sinks deeper into my bones. Pigeon places her palm flat against the chipped white bark.
“This talisman we make, it’s for him too. It’s for you too, Simon,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
All eyes fall to the battered oak tree. Pigeon’s lost friends and family are remembered here. Simon is remembered here. Like the bouquets I put together, this tree holds his memory and mourns him.
I step forward to squeeze Pigeon’s arm.
“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through,” I say. “I’m sorry you’ve lost so much. It’s not right that they didn’t listen to your petitions. But Pigeon—the captain of the guard, I know her. She’s reasonable and fair. She’ll hear you out. I’m certain of it.”
Ava said she feared for the safety of the royals if a meeting was arranged, but if she came herself, if she spoke to Pigeon, I’m sure they could come to an understanding. Pigeon gives me a small smile, a small shrug. “That’s kind of you to suggest, Fliss, but I don’t think all in the citadel have your good intentions.”
Tansy checks a strange contraption on her waist.
“We should get going. It’s almost time,” she says.
Time for what? Is there more I can do? Is there more I can say?
“Pigeon,please,” I urge, “be careful.”
“Don’t worry. The explosives are only to slow them down. No one needs to get hurt.”
“People have already been hurt!” I remind her, thinking of the cuts and burns I saw in the castle courtyard the other day. Thinking of Simon.
“It’ll befine.We’ll be in and out in a blink,” Pigeon assures me.
Tansy bows her head goodbye. Pigeon starts to follow but thinks twice. Stepping close to Will, she wraps a hand around his forearm and peels up on her toes to reach his ear. A few whispered words later, he flushes bright red.Wait—
“Take care, you two,” Pigeon says, and hurries back to the path. “Oh, and Will, maybe take the coastal route back to the citadel, just in case. It would be inconvenient to accidentally frame you.”
Will snorts. “Get out of here.”
Pigeon waves and scampers after Tansy.
Are they—? Does he—? I mean, Pigeon can get through the wards. How long have they known each other? What did she say to him? I’ve never seen Will blush like that. I mean, I’ve only known him a few weeks, so I don’treallyknow him—
I don’t care.
Nope. That’s a lie.
Oh my gods,I care.
“Coming, Princess? I would very much like to leave this tree as far behind as possible,” Will says.
I try my best, but I can’t quite fix the smile on my face. It’s the knowledge of Pigeon’s rebel identity. It’s the fear of what she’s running off to do and the hurdles that await me back at the citadel. It’s this frustrating knot Willoh Vane has my head in.
