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Gerrot’s jaw flexes. He points to himself once more, and this time, he points straight at Dawsyn.

Dawsyn frowns, “Wh–”

“He wishes to journey with us,” Baltisse interrupts, her shoulders slumping. “To the Ledge.”

Dawsyn does not know how Gerrot has come to learn of their plans in such a short space of time, but she suspects that the man is far quieter and less noticeable than even his frame would suggest. She eyes him. “It will be dangerous.”

Gerrot does not react to her words. Instead, he lifts his chin, and allows his stare to bear down on her.

She remembers the way he’d hurried away from Adrik and his admirers in the King’s rooms, a tray in hand. She remembers the wordless sound that had escaped his lips on the day his wife had died. The thoughts pass through her mind fleetingly, her decision made by the time they dissipate. Yes. He shall be returned to Terrsaw as well. He should not stay in this place a moment longer. “Very well,” she says.

Ryon looks briefly at the resolve in her expression and nods. “Then,” he says, turning back to Rivdan and Brennick, “it seems you are the only two left to declare yourselves.”

Rivdan steps forward first, his expression steely. “I’ll follow.”

But Brennick shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I cannot.” And he is already backing away, already separating himself.

Ryon calls to him. “Brennick! Please listen. Adrik–”

“Adrik would not fall to such temptation.”

“Bren, I would never cast such an accusation if I wasn’tsure.”

But Brennick is turning away, shaking his head. “I cannot, Ryon. I… I can’t.”

“Then say nothing,” Ryon asks. “Please, brother.”

But Brennick is already hurrying back the way he came. He does not look at Ryon again.

“Fuck,” Tasheem spits.

“We go,” Ryon proclaims. “Right now.”

They must run. Down the stairwell, through the tunnels, beyond the portcullises. The ice beneath their feet is not particularly slick, but Ruby stumbles often anyway, unused to the terrain. They will not have time to tend to her skull if it cracks.

Tasheem wraps her arm around Ruby’s back and half carries her toward the Chasm, its impossible width growing, stretching further with each step. Rivdan lifts Gerrot over his shoulder, the old man unable to keep pace as they hasten.

“Ready yourselves,” Ryon calls as they get closer.

Tasheem takes hold of Baltisse, Ryon moves toward Dawsyn.

The Chasm is a monstrous void, swallowing the world, and they tear across the ice toward it. She hears Ruby utter a small cry of fear. She hears Baltisse pant out a curse.

There is no slowing.

“Stop!” Ruby yells, “STOP!”

But Tasheem lifts both her and Baltisse from the ground, as Rivdan does Gerrot. Dawsyn turns at the exact moment that Ryon reaches for her, and then they are flying.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

The people of the Ledge tell stories of how the Chasm came to be.

How could a mountain so mighty find itself cleaved in two? The Ridge is named for its vastness. From the valley, the mountain looks to be one giant mass, scaling unendingly skyward. There is only one interruption, and it is that of the divide between the people on the Ledge and the rest of the world. It is reasonable for the people there to assume that the mountain had, in one fragment of history, been whole.

Valma Sabar had told the story of the Chasm often, and as Dawsyn grew, she suspected the woman had likely spun the tale herself.

Dawsyn’s younger sister would shout, “Grandma! Tell the Yerdos story.” And Dawsyn, who had heard it a hundred times more often than Maya, would groan.