Page 44

There was a pause before Yudit spoke. “Of course you don’t,” she muttered. “Why do I even bother?”

I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have let the conversation die and reveled in the peace and quiet I so desperately craved.

But I didn’t. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Narrative romantic poetry is wasted on you. That’s fine. It’s not for everyone.”

“Wasted? Why would it be wasted on me?”

She shrugged. “You’re a coward.”

An ominous silence fell, broken only by the drip of water and the buzzing of insects.

“What the hell, Yudit?” I said.

“You were too chickenshit to tell Sam how you felt. Or anyone else, either.”

Sunbeam’s eyes slid open. “Hey now,” he said. “Before this goes any further—”

“Maybe your romantic poetry is wasted on me,” I snarled, “because it’s fucking awful.”

She flinched back as if I’d slapped her. “You don’t get it. Why would you? You’ve never even had the guts to kiss someone!”

“And how is that supposed to happen,” I said, my voice going up in pitch, “when I can’t ever get away from you?”

“Sure, argue louder,” Sunbeam sighed as Stinky startled awake, swiveling her head anxiously in search of threats. “Let’s see how many monsters overhear.” The stallion did his best to calm the frightened mare.

“Do you think I like hanging around you all the time?” Yudit yelled. We’d both risen to our feet. “Do you think I’m thrilled that we’re joined at the fucking hip? Don’t act like you’ve got the worst of it!”

“If you ever shut up even once, I might not feel that way!”

“You’re there when I eat! You’re there when I sleep!” Her face was too close to mine. “If I ever get laid, you’ll be there when I fuck!”

“When I am, at least I won’t be reciting poetry about it!”

Things didn’t get any better after that. If anything, they deteriorated further.

As I might have already mentioned, I’ve never mastered the knack of arguing with my sisters without everyone ending up feeling like shit. So I try to avoid it. Sometimes, especially with Yudit, I fail. Badly. And this was the worst argument we’d had since we were two teenagers forced to share a bedroom.

Surprisingly, we didn’t attract the carnivorous attention of every monster in a five-mile radius. Possibly we were close enough to the swamp’s edge that we’d passed the danger zone. Or maybe they could recognize a vicious family squabble when they heard one and decided they wanted no part of it.

When we emerged from the swamp the following morning, a chilly silence had fallen between my sister and me. In a single night, we’d annihilated whatever mutual goodwill we’d built up during our shared perils.

Over the days of travel that followed, as we made our way to the Crimson City, neither of us spoke a single word to the other. Certainly neither of us apologized. And we didn’t seem likely to do so anytime soon. I wasn’t planning on being the first. I was sick of her constant, unavoidable presence. And I knew she felt the same about me. She’d said so, after all. So we ignored each other as much as possible while we traveled through the hot, miserable desert waste south of the damp, miserable swamp.

The land at the heart of the Red Empire is a sun-blasted, heat-scorched country of dusty red rock. Only a few hardy creatures made it their home. I have no idea what those few hardy creatures lived on, because when I reached out to feel what plants slept in the parched earth, I sensed nothing at all. No bulbs dormant underground until the rains came, no lichens hiding in a patch of shade. It was the most barren territory I’d ever crossed. I found the lack of plant life unnerving; I wanted to separate from Yudit and run around, growing saltwort and euphorbias in my footsteps until the land was less desolate. Even if I did, it would barely make a dent in the vast emptiness around us. It wasn’t a great place to travel for anybody prone to sunburn, which unfortunately was the case for anyone from Ecossia. Our skin was peeling like the paint on an abandoned barn.

Before the Red Emperor began his campaign of conquest, this was considered one of the most undesirable places in the world. Somewhat better than the Swamp of Monsters in that it was possible to live here without being eaten. Considerably worse than almost anywhere else in that no one wanted to live here at all.

Yudit unfolded the map that the genius made for us and leaned forward in the saddle to lay it against Stinky’s neck. She squinted at the drawing, then peered at the mountain range in the distance.

“The pass to the Crimson City,” she said, carefully addressing her words to the stallion I was riding and not to me, “should be between Mount Carmine and Garnet Peak. I think those are the two pointy ones over that way.”

Sunbeam nodded. “Head for the pointy mountains. Got it.”

“If we keep going forward,” I said to the horse, “we’ll hit the eastern road, which will lead us to the pass. Making the trip easier. Obviously.”

Sunbeam paused, turning his head to give me a look. “Don’t head for the pointy mountains. Got it.”