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Her hair had been pulled away from her face, small silver leaves woven through the small braid that had been fashioned at the nape of her neck. They’d put her in the warmest formal dress I’d brought. The needlework was flawless but understated, inherently too simple for her station as a princess. I hadn’t wanted to waste the cost of commissioning something more extravagant without knowing I’d select an omega—and a female one at that.

Once we made it to Starguard to rest and resupply, I’d have a small trousseau commissioned for her so that she was better prepared for her introduction to the court as a whole in Embercrest. As it was, there were few here who would complain about the informality, especially once we began traveling northward toward home. The Staslid Mountains were snowy and bitterly cold this time of year, only a few weeks away from the seasons transitioning into growth rather than slumber. Getting across them whole and healthy was more important than conforming to impractical court dressing standards.

The scratches on her face were scabbed but not fully healed, Reuben opting instead to focus on her more serious wounds, and there was a bruise that shaded her left cheek, a dark blue that hopefully did not bring her pain. Her eyes today were even more pale, nearly translucent in the firelight. Fear fluttered in my gut for a moment before I pushed it aside. The Alholím were gone. They were not like the Servusi who had managed to survive in small numbers, their magics persisting even now, like within my mother and me. Any resemblance she may have to the wyvern shifters was simply coincidental. It had to be.

“My sister?” she asked.

Her voice was still hoarse from her distress yesterday, and it had me wanting to tear down the entire camp until I could figure out a way to heal the small wounds to her voice.

“She’s well,” I said, using Alwesh as the rest had been as well. Perhaps she felt more comfortable with that than the language of the court. “She was selected by a man named Jacob Armand in Senona. Once we are in Starguard, we will be able to better navigate the proper channels to reconnect you.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth slowly formed the name of the kingdom, though she didn’t make any sound. I didn’t fill the silence, trying to give her space to ask whatever she may want to know first. As someone from the Far Lands, much of our way of life here would be unknown to her.

“How long until then?” She picked at the neckline of her dress. Her fingernails were torn, her skin cracked and scratched. I made a note to request a salve from Phoebe if she had any currently with her. Amaria or Shelby might have something as well. “Until we’re at Starguard?”

She tripped over the name.

“Around two weeks.” Her eyes widened, and her entire body stiffened. “Depending on how quickly we’re able to navigate the mountain pass. The Zimerus forest almost always takes a week regardless of weather.”

Her cheeks lost the rosy color as panic swept through her eyes.

“We won’t have contact with Sloane for two weeks?”

I tried to reassure her.

“Every person who participates in the Rite pledges to do no harm and to honor Freia with the union. I assure you that your sister is as safe with Jacob as you are with me.” I held out my hand in offering. “Shall we join the others for breakfast?”

She eyed my hand like it might strike her, and I had to force a growl down low enough it would make no noise. Why did she assume I would harm her? She had done the same on Magefall when I’d needed to create a tourniquet.

Then her eyes dropped to her feet—her bare feet. Damn it. I was messing all of this up already, and that certainly wouldn’t help her feel more comfortable around us. I quietly picked up the simple shoes Amaria had left at the foot of Amethyst’s cot and offered them to her. She took them in a shaking hold, pulling them on with fumbling movements.

“Reuben says your ankle is still unstable,” I said as she grabbed the edge of the cot, her knuckles whitening. She bit her lip before nodding once.

I quickly closed the distance between us and offered my arm. Her eyes flashed with indignation before she swallowed and sighed, grabbing my arm hard enough her nails dug into my skin through the thick fabric. Her steps were slow and halting. Each time she attempted to step onto her healing ankle, her body fell into my side. Tension tightened her shoulders with each stumble. I intentionally kept my body relaxed so she didn’t misconstrue my frustration over her injury with frustration with her in general.

The clouds had returned today, darkening the sky and forcing a chill bite to the air. Some of the tents were already in the process of being deconstructed in preparation for travel. The disturbances had several small birds taking flight around us, calling to each other. Amethyst drew closer to me, her eyes watchful and wary. Our pace was beyond slow, but I didn’t rush her. The others would already be eating, and there would be plenty for us regardless of when we made it to the central bonfires.

“There aren’t more of those birds here, are there?” she asked after a minute.

I frowned. “The acora?”

She nodded. “They were on the island. The ones with the yellow eyes and hard beaks that sounded like g—” She cut off all at once. “Are they here, too?”

“No.” I shook my head. “They are found on the Southern continent, Ferias.”

“Thank God,” she muttered.

I couldn’t help but laugh. She glanced up at me, her eyes narrowing.

“What’s funny?” she asked, more fire in her voice than I’d heard yet.

“The acora are harmless,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “They’re creepy. And one of them is the whole reason why I can’t walk faster than a damn toddler.”

“That’s why I heard one call before I heard your cry,” I said in sudden understanding. “I thought it had been injured.”

Her snort had color rushing down her neck. “Nope. Just me. If I never have to see another one, that would be fantastic.” She shuddered. “Or hear one, either.”