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After attempting to maintain space between us for days, I feel like someone hung out to dry. What does she mean she’s leaving? And why does the news slash my chest like a sharpened dagger?

I approach as if to stop her but don’t actually touch her. “I saw the papers. That other page had betting odds? What the hell are you⁠—?”

Esme’s jaw clenches, and her chin juts up. She’s going to walk into whatever danger awaits between here and Rook, and she’s going to do it alone.

She couldn’t protect herself from a basilisk-kin or a single bandit, so how is she planning to do all that on her own?

I stand on the precipice of a decision.

I know what I should do. I should wish Esme luck, grab my stuff, and head to the rendezvous point. I should tell Rafe or whoever came to meet me that the trail now points to some tournament and have someone else investigate while I return home.

Except…

The Withering is escalating faster than anyone realized. Hollow Ones are causing whole forests of animals to evacuate. This will likely cross borders soon. And Esme might be the only person who can end this. But she can only do that if she lives long enough to find the Everhand.

I can’t just walk away.

It has nothing to do with that sad expression or how good it felt when she rested her head on my shoulder. This is about saving lives, including Tirenese, from a growing plague and monsters that don’t care about borders or oceans. “Not alone, you’re not.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

I scramble for a logical excuse. “Veradin told me to find the Everhand. Shouted it there at the end.”

Her jaw drops, and her eyes narrow. “Veradin told me to do that.”

I shrug, concealing a smile. She’s so damn cute when she’s indignant. “Fine. He told both of us.”

She stares at me like I just offered to do something insane. Which I did. “You don’t need to⁠—”

“The world needs the Hollow Ones dealt with.” I cut her off before she can talk me out of this. “No one is safe until that happens. Not Meridia. Not the neighboring kingdoms.”

The justification would satisfy Sterling and Lark if I ever have to explain my decision.

It’s also true.

The Withering and the Hushing Sickness will spread. The Hollow Ones won’t stop at Meridia’s borders. What’s happening here will eventually threaten the rest of the world too. Helping now is the smart tactic.

In my heart, though, I know that’s not why I’m staying.

I’m staying because last night, Esme looked at me like I might be worth something. I refuse to let her head into danger alone when I’m certain she won’t walk out alive.

She hesitates, her cheeks flushing pink. “I would appreciate your assistance.”

“Give me two minutes.” I turn toward my gear and start grabbing weapons.

Sterling is going to kill me.

Assuming I live long enough to give him the chance.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Esme

The first town smells like manure and fresh bread.

Horses and draft animals graze outside for half a day’s walk before we reach the border. The repetitive whack of axes chopping trees fills the woods. Once we arrive, we find the town packed, with new construction going up on top of the existing buildings. Lively chatter floats through the air as neighbors assist neighbors.

Not only do they lack rooms for rent, but people camp in the square, inside and under covered cargo wagons. Inns serve meals on tables out front, and we pass several conversations about how to transform the surrounding area into fields. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out these small clusters are the survivors of the ghost villages making their way south.