The abandoned farmhouse where they’d trained wasn’t far from Ocrae. She didn’t know if it would be still standing after twenty-five years, or if it had been claimed by new owners, but if it still existed, it would be ideal.
“It’s not abandoned,” Zera said.
“Oh. Maybe we can buy it?”
“You mean maybeIcan buy it?”
“Well—”
“No need. Stran lives there,” Zera said. “With his family.”
Kreya felt her jaw drop open.
“What?” Zera asked. “I told you I kept tabs on everyone. Except Jentt, of course, because, you know, he was dead. And obviously I didn’t keep close enough watch on Marso. But Stran is there.”
“He has a family?” Jentt asked.
“He lives in the farmhouse?” Kreya asked simultaneously. “He remembers how many animals we deboned in that kitchen, right?”
“My guess is he didn’t share that detail with his wife,” Zera said. “Who knows, though? Never met her. She might be fine with that.”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Kreya said. She found herself smiling at the thought of Stran with a family. If anyone deserved an ordinary happy life, it was Stran.
The farmhouse was nestled into the side of a mountain between terraced fields. It had been freshly paintedwhite, with a ruby-red roof. A chicken coop and a rabbit hutch were on one side of the yard and a vegetable garden on the other. Someone had built a long wooden table with benches under an old massive tree—Kreya remembered they’d buried the unused bits of animal carcasses under that tree, but there was no sign of that now. It was blanketed in wildflowers. All in all, it was picturesque and perfect.
“Pretty,” Marso said.
“Wow, yes,” Zera said. “Stran has done well.”
Together they started down the well-worn path toward the farmhouse. A few deer, the tame kind, froze, watching them as they passed, before resuming grazing on the wildflowers.
“Am I dead?” Marso asked.
“No, buddy, you’re not,” Jentt told them.
“Are you dead?”
“Not anymore.”
Marso smiled. “That’s nice.”
Closer to the farmhouse, though, Marso balked. He dug his heels into the dirt and sat backward so fast that none of them had a chance to catch him. His face had gone pale, and his hands were shaking.
Zera squatted next to him. “What’s wrong, honey?”
He shook his head.
“Get up, Marso,” Kreya told him. “We’re going to see Stran.”
But Marso hugged his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth. Wrapping her arm around his shoulders, Zera began talking to him in a low, soothing voice. Kreya watched them for a minute and wondered if what was wrong with Marso was anything that could be fixed. He hadn’t shown any sign of the cravings or withdrawal that she would have expected if he werean addict, which made her even more certain he’d addled his brain by overloading his magic.
If I hadn’t locked myself away in my tower, could I have prevented this?
She’d let Marso flounder on his own when she could have helped him. She had no idea how long he’d been like this, but it couldn’t have happened overnight. If she’d checked in on him, maybe she’d have seen the signs. She could have gotten him help, even if it was beyond her to help him herself.
“We’re here,” Zera was telling him. “You’re safe.”
At least with Zera, Kreya could reassure herself that her friend had fared fine without her. Even thrived. But Marso... The guilt threatened to choke her. Retreating from them, she said, “I’ll say hi to Stran, tell him we’re here.”Make sure he hasn’t fallen apart too.
