Page 55

He shook his head. “Never.”

I wrapped my arms around my knees as a breeze kicked up a bit of the snow that had fallen most of the day. With a small flick of my wrist, the wind stopped. The shield wasn’t nearly as large nor powerful as the one imbued in the coin, but it was enough to keep the night’s chill from driving me into my tent. The tent where Amethyst slept, her scent bleeding into all of the blankets and cloaks. Without thinking about it, I ducked my head, letting her vanilla and orange scent still on my sweater soothe me. I shouldn’t, not now that I knew she would return to her own place. And yet I couldn’t help it.

“Shelby hasn’t heard of it either,” I finally admitted.

I’d quietly asked her while Reuben tended to Amethyst’s ankle again.

“Damn.” The curse was as fervent as it was quiet.

Yeah, damn was right. Shelby’s father had grown up in Destral, one of the kingdoms consisting of several islands in the heart of the Far Lands. He was well-versed in the peoples and power structures, considered by most in the court to have the most expertise, even more so than some of the diplomats employed by the kingdom. They would often come to her father for advice. If she did not know of this Arizona, then it stood to reason that what Amethyst had said was true: she did not come from our world.

But how could that even be possible?

The amount of raw power needed to force a rip between realms was significant. More than a single person’s ability, no matter how talented or trained as a mage, and that wasn’t even accounting for how unstable the transportation magic was at baseline. There was a reason we did not visit the Far Lands often. The ocean was treacherous, prone to large storms that coalesced with little warning. But attempting to have a mage transport you? It was tantamount to a death sentence. None of the mages employed by my father would have the power to do such a thing, I was nearly positive.

Besides, there had been no such event since the gods intervened during the Great War. Our histories only detailed one other time when the gates between worlds had been opened: the Great Exodus, when those descendants of the gods themselves left Avicourt in favor of returning to Althea, the realm of the gods. That had been over a millennia ago now.

“Best not to stew over it when we still have over a week of travel.” Vincent circled my wrist.

I didn’t shrug away the amicable touch. Instead, I watched as Tegan completed his loop around the tents and returned to his perch. A few minutes later, Phillip emerged from one of the tents along the edge. He was dressed in his armor but he only wore his dagger on his left thigh rather than the sword typically strapped down the center of his back. His hair was unbound, the ends fluttering with the breeze. They pressed their heads close together, and then Phillip’s gaze flashed to where Vincent and I sat in the center of the chaos of wood and fabric. After a minute, Tegan disappeared into his own utilitarian tent without the jar of fire.

Vincent stood, grabbing the small jar of fire he’d brought with him. “All we can do is continue on with the hope Freia will give us the reasoning we seek,” he said. “You need to sleep.”

“I will,” I said, though I made no move to actually turn in for the night.

His footsteps made no sound as he returned to his own small tent.

Phillip wove through the tents, a frown pulling his lips. He settled into the space Vincent just left, mirroring my own stance with his arms around his knees.

“What troubles you?” he asked.

I didn’t say anything. Phillip couldn’t know about Amethyst and her sister. Not until I resolved everything with the Votarists in Starguard and then told my father the entire situation.

Phillip hummed. “I’ve seen no evidence of problems since cresting the pass. It’s possible we will manage the next day and a half to Wolfrest with no incidents.”

“That’s good news.”

At least my decision wouldn’t result in even more violence against my people. It was little comfort, but it was something. Phillip frowned as I eased to my feet, though he quickly mirrored me.

“Sleep well,” he murmured.

I ducked into my tent before he’d turned to resume his watch.

The small jar of fire beside Amethyst was still alight, casting warmth on her fair skin. It turned her lips a darker pink, almost that of a rose. Her hand rested just beside them, the dark red of the Mark of Freia nearly black in the low light. That urge to claim her, guard her and covet her, roared up in me hard enough my entire body trembled. My scent rose around me, stronger than it had been in days. I swallowed and closed my eyes, willing my body to settle. When I was reasonably sure I had the urges under control, I eased into the cot. My mind still swirled, unable to calm itself, but at least I wouldn’t keep Phillip distracted.

I didn’t touch the blankets Amethyst had quietly claimed. Instead, I spread out my cloak and used it for warmth. Amethyst’s breathing was shallow, and she didn’t stir at all as I settled myself. Worry twisted my stomach. Was she ill? Reuben had said her head was healed, but she’d asked Shelby for the serum this morning as well as yesterday. The idea of her being harmed at all while under my care made me want to vomit.

Against my better judgment, I carefully circled her wrist with a featherlight touch. Under my thumb, her heartbeat fluttered. Nothing seemed off about it, and there was no distress in her scent. Some of the worry eased, though that gnawing dread didn’t abate at all.

Eventually, the small pulses of her heart lulled me into sleep better than any sleep serum could.

The low din of the others working to tear down the temporary camp accompanied the relaxing task of my morning prayers and the more tedious task of dressing for another hard day of travel through the mountains. Despite the exhaustion still dragging my body, my mind continued to swirl. It took every bit of control learned in those early years of being in the royal court to keep the thoughts and fears from completely taking over. Vincent was right. There was no point in ruminating over the situation while we still needed to navigate the rest of the mountain pass and then the Zimerus Forest beyond that.

I pulled the utilitarian dagger from its perch under the small pillow on the cot. It still felt odd in my hands. Not the weight or length. I’d spent enough time over the last few decades to become adept at using it when needed. But the reality that I carried it at all, held it in my palm, still felt off-putting.

Apparently today was to be one of those where everything felt askew, like the day before the Rite. At least this time the earth wasn’t pestering me. I set the dagger to the side of the saddlebags and prepared my praying materials for travel. Once finished, I turned my attention to the saddlebags, doing anything to keep from having to leave the relative privacy of the travel tent. When there was nothing left to pack, to fiddle with, I grabbed the dagger again.

Amethyst gasped, and her scent whipped out from her, the vanilla dominant over the orange. Frowning, I quickly fastened my dagger to my thigh and then turned toward her. She sat in the cot, her eyes wide but unseeing, her arms clutching the blanket to her chest. Her hair swirled around her, lifted by her magic slipping. The small jar of fire blazed hotter, the flames licking at the lid.