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“I know you’re sorry,” I managed. “I still have to get out of this carriage.”

He bowed his head and gave me the bundle. I took it carefully, avoiding his fingers. All the way here, I’d wanted him to leave me alone. Now he was opening the door, and I wanted another stretch of road. A little longer before I had to walk into that house.

Father stayed beside the carriage when I stepped down. A bride’s family brought her to her new home. They didn’t follow her inside. Someone from my new household was supposed to meet me. But there was no one waiting for me at the gate.

“May the Forests keep you, Thalia,” my father murmured.

I nodded without looking at him. If I did, I might go back to him, and I couldn’t bear him holding me while I cried about something he’d helped arrange. I went through the gate with the cord of my bundle biting into my wrist.

“Mind the branch there. You’ll tear that silk.”

I stopped abruptly, but the ivy caught my sleeve anyway. An elderly satyr stood behind the gatepost, watching me over a handful of cut greenery. I hadn’t even noticed him. For a moment, I could only stare, my heart still pounding.

“I didn’t realize anyone would be living here except the ambassador,” I admitted, pulling the fabric free.

“I lived here before he came. I’ll still be here when he goes, if he ever does.” The satyr dropped the ivy onto a heap. “I’m Bion. Give me that bundle before it takes your hand off.”

I loosened my grip, embarrassed to find how deeply the cord had marked me. Behind us, Father spoke to the driver. I handed Bion my belongings and started along the path before I could hear the carriage turn.

“My name is Thalia,” I offered. “I thought the household left when the Blight came.”

“They did. I had no family elsewhere, and I preferred my own bed.” Bion shifted the bundle beneath his arm. “I thought I’d go in my sleep when it reached the house. Then the ambassador arrived and stopped it.”

He spoke as though he’d been expecting rain and received an unexpected visitor instead. I glanced at the house, trying to imagine him choosing to remain here alone. Ivy crowded its columns, and young branches grew above windows with nothing behind them. One wing had lost part of its roof. He must have loved this place once, to prefer dying here to finding somewhere else to live.

Perhaps he still did. I couldn’t judge him for that when all I wanted was my own room at the shrine.

Bion shouldered the front door open, and I followed him into a hall that smelled of old wood. I looked past him before I could stop myself. Several closed doors lined the walls. Eryx could be behind any one of them, close enough to hear us arrive.

“Is the ambassador here?” I asked, trying to keep the question casual.

“He came back before you.” Bion started up the stairs, apparently satisfied that he’d answered me. “Your room’s this way.”

I wanted to ask why Eryx hadn’t come out, but decided against it. Perhaps it was better to have a little time. I could hardly introduce myself while trying not to cry about my father. I followed Bion upstairs, forcing myself to focus on the new home I’d gained today instead of the one I’d lost.

At the landing, Bion raised a hand toward the other wing. “Keep out of there until you know the house. Some of the floors are rotten.”

Through an archway, fallen plaster and leaves lay scattered across the boards. When Bion turned away, I kept close behind, grateful for the guide.

Bion led me to a door at the other end of the corridor. Warm air touched my face when he opened it. Someone had lit a fire and spread a thick rug beside the bed. The linen was clean, and a pitcher stood ready on the washstand. After the passages, the room looked almost extravagant. Father would have been pleased. The thought spoiled my unwilling appreciation of it.

“There’s water if you want to wash,” Bion told me, putting down my bundle. “I’ll bring supper when it’s ready.”

He’d carried my things and brought me somewhere warm. None of this was his fault. I made myself look at him instead of the bed.

“Thank you, Bion. You’ve made it very comfortable.”

He nodded and left me to it. The door closed, and I stood there with my cloak still fastened. Here I was, then. Delivered safely, just as everyone had intended. I wished I’d been half as satisfied with the arrangement.

A branch moved beyond the window. I went to it and pushed the casement open, grateful for something to do besides stare at the bed. Below lay an enclosed courtyard, its paving split by roots. Ivy had climbed almost to the sill. I reached for the nearest stem with a need that surprised me.

Its small life met my touch at once. I closed my eyes and followed the current downward, through the roots and into the earth beneath the house. Farther out, the trees stirred in the wind. The presence of the Endless Forests opened around me, vast and familiar, and my throat tightened painfully.

“I know you’re here,” I whispered. “I know I haven’t left you.”

But I’d left the altar beneath the cedars. I’d left the women who knew when to sit beside me and when to let me be. Somewhere, they were preparing the evening meal without me. The Forests reached them as surely as they reached this courtyard. For a moment, that made the distance worse. I wanted to be there, among all the familiar lives I could no longer hear.

“Listen, child. We’re still here. Always.”