Marshen pulled back his hair. “He’s been soaring like that for minutes. If he wanted to come for us, he would have done so already.”
“You don’t understand, that’s—he’s the Phoenix. We need to run!”
I finally managed to get on my two shaky feet, unsure if it was my head or the rocky ground beneath me that swayed. The concurrent sounds of whistling wind and crashing waves were also interfering with my balance. I tried to force my faltering legs to steady themselves—to move. But then I flinched and froze. My head snapped towards the sudden voice.
“He cannot see us from up there.”
In a heartbeat, Marshen was on his feet, like a soldier—steady—whereasIwas still struggling to compose myself.
A middle-aged woman emerged from the glade, curious but wary. She slowly approached us, a young man following close behind. Then, from the edge of the clearing, more appeared—two, ten, dozens—until they coalesced into a crowd of a hundred. People of different ages, all staring, all murmuring garbled words that saturated our surroundings.
“Boreas fucking freeze me,” Marshen mumbled. I looked at him with furrowed brows.
Then I remembered—the Phoenix.
The godsdamned Phoenix was hovering above our heads and not one of them seemed to acknowledge the peril we were in. I looked up, my face tense in concern.
“I assure you he cannot see you,” the woman repeated.
My perplexed gaze shifted to her and I asked, “How?…How are you here? And who are you?” The woman held an impassive stare despite the contrasting reactions from the hundred at her back. Some laughed at my questions, others swore.
“No, you tell us whoyouare first—after all, you are the ones visiting uninvited,” the young man, who mirrored the woman’s sharp nose and chestnut eyes, demanded.
I couldn’t help myself, I kept glancing up into the sky.
“I am Marshen Deucane from Silch, and this is Delia Wildheart, from Ramel.”
“Why can’t he see us?” I asked.
“Why are you here, Marshen Deucane?” the young man pressed.
“The king. King Ryvar Hailin”—Marshen’s voice was so loud.I’m going to fucking kill him. If the Phoenix heard that name!—“he sent me here.”
“Do not shout,” I snapped, through gritted teeth. And why was he tellingthemabout his secret mission?
Marshen probably didn’t hear me as the crowd gasped and mumbled at the mention of the king’s name, their hushed murmurs reverberating. I was expecting the Phoenix to dive for us and set us all ablaze. But it seemed that the lady was right. He couldn’t see us, and I was almost certain he couldn’t hear us as well.
“Silence!” the woman bellowed. Yep, he definitely couldn’t hear us. Everyone stilled at her shout.
“Queen Akaterina Hailin is dead?” she asked. “King Rynn?”
Marshen answered. “Yes, Queen Akaterina and King Rynn both passed. They appointed King Ryvar as the new Ice ruler before passing into the afterlife together.”
Despite never meeting them in person, the out-loud mention of their names, their deaths, reminded me too much of him. I remembered Aegir telling me about how his mother had selflessly forfeited her immortality so that she could bind herself to her mortal soulbound. I thought nothing was more beautiful. My heart ached—it ached every time I was reminded of him, which was pretty much all the time. I blinked back to reality.
“You’re Hydrans—people from Ilma, aren’t you?” I dared ask.
“Yes,” the woman replied, tucking a lock of salt-and-pepper hair behind her ear.
“No!” the young man exclaimed. “Weare theforgottenpeople of Ilma.”
“We searched for you. Silchan shifters searched for you,” Marshen protested, his voice deep. “But you are forgotten no more, as I was sent here to find you,” he continued, performing an unnecessarily dramatic gesture.
I blinked at Marshen’s revelation—his mission. And was I part of this, too? Were my answers truly here, among these people?
“Come with us. You two look like a mess,” the woman said, lifting her worn skirt and turning around. The crowd parted for her as she guided us into the stretch of small trees.
Trees.
