There was a large stone already crushing Thran’s right leg. Thia knew they’d never be able to bring him, but it didn’t hurt any less as she turned her back and allowed Dess to half carry her toward the tunnel.
They sprinted for the exit, stones thundering around them. Smaller shards tore at their skin; Oskaren disappeared to avoid a larger one, and for a terrifying moment Thia thought she was gone. But then she reappeared to lead the way into the darkness. Thia went next, Dess closely behind. The cavern gave a last shattering groan, and a stone dropped into the opening, sealing them out of the lair for good.
FORTY-SIX
THE TUNNEL HELD. IT SEEMED THE QUEEN HAD ONLY BROUGHTdown the ceiling directly above the cavern, likely to keep the path of her own escape clear. Thia remained uneasy as they followed the twists of the labyrinth, the sounds of the crumbling lair muffled, then distant, then gone, certain that at any turn they might come face-to-face with her again. The queen was clearly weakened, or she wouldn’t have fled, but Thia doubted any of them had fight left. Oskaren and Dess were both covered in blood, a good deal of it their own, and she felt like with one wrong step she herself might pass out.
They didn’t dare collect their packs from where they had left them in the rocky outcropping. When they emerged from the mountain, they crept directly to the ship, hunkering behind whatever barriers in the landscape they could find. Thia was plagued by the thought that they should forgo secrecy for speed, terrified that the queen might find their vessel first and burn it to ash. But when they reached it, the ship was just as they’d left it. Oskaren helped her onto it, and then the three of them collapsed.
“Ship,” Thia managed, when no one said anything. “Take us to Losrohiria.”
It creaked into motion. The sea was calm, of that Thia was glad; she didn’t think she could take the threat of any more danger.
The sun had set by the time they reached the mouth of the river and disappeared into the canopy of trees. Back under Losrohiri protection, Thia dared to turn away from the rail. She retreated near the mast, head spinning, and pulled Mavrel gently into her lap. After a moment, the others joined her. They sat in silence, the ship’s curve around ancient bends lulling them into calm. Trees that had once felt oppressive were now guardians against the world beyond.
It was Dess who finally had the courage to ask the question that Thia had been shoving down since the moment Solanthe had revealed herself. “What now?”
What now indeed? Thia’s last hope of returning home had disappeared. Somehow she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.
The others were waiting for an answer. It was her quest, after all, her decisions that had led them here. Her mistakes that had killed Thran. She wanted the comfort of Oskaren’s arms, but the girl sat just out of reach, attention fixed on the shore.
“We should rest,” Thia said at last. They needed it, and it was much simpler to focus on keeping her body alive than the tornado of uncertainty swirling in her mind. “Ship,” she croaked. “Can you find a place to dock?”
The ship acquiesced, and they disembarked into a small clearing. Thia stared at it, suddenly wondering whether they should keep sailing, if somehow being stationary put them at greater risk. Dess laid a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped.
“Sorry,” he said gently. “I was thinking about building a shelter, but I thought the Losrohir might not take kindly to plant destruction.”
“It’s alright,” Thia said. The purple under his eyes, the dried blood stark against his pale hair, pulled her into the present. “The ground is soft.”
He nodded and spread himself out across the grass. Thia, in turn, couldn’t think about rest, not while she was still coated in witch blood. She took a step toward the river, only for her legs to give out. The ground was indeed lush, so she wasn’t hurt, but when she tried to stand, her body was unresponsive. She focused on breathing, then small movements, and managed to crawl her way into a seated position.
Large hands tugged her upright and remained on her waist to keep her there. Oskaren was frowning down at her.
“What is it?” Thia asked.
The girl’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
Thia blinked. Where was the girl who had cradled her face in relief just hours ago? Perhaps she was rattled by the reappearance of Solanthe. Thia didn’t want to consider the other option: now that the girl was free, Thia was no longer needed.
She let Oskaren carry her toward the river, though. Dess cleared his throat as they walked, and Thia craned her neck to look back at him. He was glancing between her and Oskaren, chewing his bottom lip. She was amazed she hadn’t seen him for who he truly was before; they even shared the same mouth shape, the lower half only slightly fuller than the top.
He stood, shifting his weight awkwardly as he watched them, attention lingering longest on his sister. “I’m going to….” He trailed off. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t go far,” Thia cautioned, worried he might be concussed.
He gave a brief nod and walked away to give them space.
Oskaren brought her into the shallows of the river. The water came just to her thighs, so she set Thia down in a seated position and kept one hand on her back to support her, while the other gently scooped water up and over her shoulders. It hit the witch’s bite marks and stung like saltwater, but when droplets splashed against Thia’s mouth, it didn’t taste of sea. She touched her neck to find the wounds scabbed over.
“The water,” she breathed. “It’s healing me.”
“Another gift of the Losrohir,” Oskaren said, fingers combing the sludge of Xercae’s blood out of Thia’s hair. She was still wearing that same frown, and Thia couldn’t bear the sight of it.
Revived slightly from the water, she took the girl’s wrists, halting her. “Ren.”
Oskaren’s throat bobbed, but she didn’t pull away. “I should have killed her.”
Thia turned so she could see the girl’s face, and tugged gently on her hands. Understanding, Oskaren crouched so they were at eye level. “It’s not your fault she escaped.”
