But then Oskaren startled awake. She screamed, a horrifying, heart-wrenching sound that had Thia clambering to her feet, searching for the source of the girl’s terror. But it was clearly within, for they were alone, and Oskaren was suddenly on her hands and knees, struggling to breathe as agony curled her spine.
Thia leapt back onto the bed, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Ren, what is it? Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere,” the girl breathed. She heaved, and a moment later, vomit splattered onto the blanket.
Thia grimaced and started rubbing calming circles on the girl’s back. “Did you eat something—”
But she didn’t finish the sentence, because Oskaren yanked away from her. “Don’t touch me.”
“The curse,” Thia realized.No.“It’s back.”
Oskaren nodded—or tried to, her back arching as another lance of pain shot through her.
“What can I—”
“Leave me,” Oskaren rasped. She let out another cry. “Please.”
Thia had known it was a possibility, known it might not have been forever, but watching Oskaren’s joy ripped away—watchingRenripped away—it struck her like a blow.
She hovered at the edge of the bed, until Oskaren let out another scream and demanded, “Go.”
She didn’t know what else to do, if she was the source of Oskaren’s pain. So she said, “Okay.Okay,” and scrambled out beyond the vines.
Dess and Thran were on their way over, clearly having heard the screams. Unlike Thia, they were dressed, however. Dess gave her an incredulous look she didn’t understand, skimming her nightgown and the tent that clearly wasn’t her own. But Oskaren’s cries sounded again, softer, fragile, he froze. “What’s happening to her?”
“The curse,” Thia said. “It…hurts her sometimes. She’ll be fine; she just needs time.” Everything in her told her to return to Oskaren. She forced herself to stay put.
Dess seemed taken aback. “It hurts her?”
Thia was spared having to answer as Thran put a hand on her shoulder. “You best get dressed, lass. We’ll keep an eye on the girl.”
She nodded gratefully and hastened for her tent. It was easy work to shed her nightgown for her travel clothes, but less so to swallow the tears that tried to force their way out as she remembered Oskaren’s voice telling her to go. Shouldering her pack, she returned to the others, who were waiting by the dock under a gray sky.
Oskaren didn’t look at her as she approached. The girl was dressed now and wearing her own pack, her breathing calm. But her face was closed, lips pressed into a tight line.
“Here,” Thran said, shoving what appeared to be flat bread stuffed with various vegetables into Thia’s hands. “It was left for us on the dock this morning.”
Thia took it and scarfed a bite, just to have something to distract herself, mumbling her thanks with a full mouth.
A falcon’s cry signaled Mavrel’s return; he glided down to settle on the ship’s railing. “There you are,” Dess said.
“I wonder what he got up to,” Thia commented, but Dess didn’t ponder it with her as she expected.
Instead, he said, “We’ll probably never know,” and turned his back coolly, leading the way onto the ship. She winced, stung.
In the daylight, Thia had a better view of the vessel. It was about the size of a large sailboat, and the buds of the flower sail were closed, but as Dess’s feet hit the deck, they began to peel open one by one. There was no steering wheel, but then, Lythia had said they wouldn’t need one. The deck was empty except for four oars Thia assumed were for an emergency.
Oskaren went to the prow. Though it went against every instinct, Thia headed for the stern to give her the space she’d requested. Thran and Dess settled in the middle by the mast, and when they were all comfortable, Thia frowned, wondering how they were supposed to begin.
“Ship,” Oskaren said, deciding for them. “Take us to the sea.”
A brief wind picked up, as though summoned by the sail itself, or maybe it was the living branches that cradled them somehow speaking to the water. Whatever the mechanics, the ship creaked into motion, and they were off as the first drop of rain fell.
They put on their cloaks, but soon left lake for the river, which was largely sheltered by the enormous canopy of trees. Only a few sprinkles made it onto their heads as they sailed mostly in silence. Thia longed to ask the others what the Mirror had shown them, but—if it was anything like hers—it felt too personal to ask.
Dess, at least, was willing to share. After an hour or so, he crossed the deck to where she sat and hunkered down beside her. “I need to talk to you.” His boyish face was devoid of its usual warmth.
“About what?”
