He did know. He just hadn’t wanted to.
“Essanderon’s Rest is gone,” Kell said. “And the domain’s heart with it. Archfey don’t tend to survive the loss of their domain. Too much of their self is planted in it.”
Kell leaned into Verandil, who held him together and murmured into his ear, “I understand. Hope covered the wound; now it’s splitting. But there is another place for grieving.”
The Feywild was a reflection. It was stable in places like Honeymeadow because of the will of the archfey who anchored what the place was, but stable didn’t mean unchanging. Kell’s feelings could change things. And if he didn’t pull himself together before the next crossing…
“Stop the cart.”
The badgers slowed their pace immediately. They stood waiting while Kell tried to steady himself. “You have a scar.”
Verandil’s expression was so gentle, Kell thought his brother was afraid to break him. “It’s not bad.”
“Compared to the others?”
Verandil couldn’t hide the tiniest flinch. “Kell—”
“Tell me.”
Verandil held up his hand while he considered. “If I tell you now, will it be easier to face when you get there?”
“Yes. Tell me.”
“Wait.”
Lorzok and Jubilee said it together. Jubilee stood from her place on the bench and let Lorzok sit next to Kell. She stoodbehind the bench and leaned against his back. Timtim cuddled up on his lap.
“There. Go ahead.”
Jubilee and Lorzok held him tighter as Verandil explained what had happened to him, the other survivors, and, worst of all, Terandis.
Chapter Twelve
The Village That Chooses Its Own
Where Saeldian Prefers to Remain Tangled
Timtim stayed snuggled up in Kell’s lap when Verandil whistled a little tune to the badgers and the wagon lurched back into motion. He petted Timtim’s soft fur and scratched behind the almiraj’s ears, watching the forest at the end of the road grow so tall, he had to hook his toes under the footrest and lean back to see their tops.
“That’s it? People can just travel through it?”
“No.” Verandil laughed. “Most people will travel through a pretty bit of forest. The way to the village is only there for those who can see it.”
“So it’s good we found you in Eightbridge,” Lorzok said, distracted by the chatter of all the orange butterflies that had gathered to land on his arms and shoulders. “We wouldn’t have found it on our own.”
“Kell could have found it.” Verandil’s tone was confident. “You know the story, don’t you? About how he can find people?”
“Verandil.”
But Verandil ignored him, letting the badgers trot along. “When Kell was little, he dreamed of waking up lost. Everyonegone, him all alone. He was hardly more than a baby. Essanderon gave him the trick so he wouldn’t be afraid.”
“He didn’t just touch my forehead and that was it,” Kell said. “He trained me. The whole village did. He would send me with a bundle to take to Shuahn, but she wouldn’t be at her pond. I had to find her.”
Verandil laughed. “He put Kell to work every day. You couldn’t hide from him. He’d find you.”
“Hard to get up to trouble, when a little kid could pop up any moment and ask what you were doing,” Jubilee observed.
“You don’t even know!” Verandil swayed backward as he pressed the back of his hand to his brow. “You could just have a glimmer of an idea that was shenanigans-adjacent, and there he was.”
