Page 30

Fenli let herself in, and I followed behind her.

“Baer is an asshole,” I started once the door was closed, but she cut me off with a raised hand.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just stop.”

“You should tell him you want to make maps.”

Her jaw dropped open and hung for several moments before she snapped it shut. I’d done it now. I could see it in her eyes. She thought I was an idiot, a fool, but it was more than that. Just the suggestion of coming out with her maps made her nervous. She was afraid of what I might do.

“You would see me fed to the wolves.”

“For mapping?” Iwasan idiot. Even I could hear the stupidity in my words, but I wanted them to be true, so out they came.

She shook her head slowly, as if in disbelief. “I’d get shipped off to—to Runehall’s clan for less. You think I’m w-wanted here?”

She refused to talk to me for the rest of the evening. I spent the night lying on the floor in the loft, thinking about her words. They reminded me of what Baer had said when she’d run away.

There are those who think she shouldn’t be here, that we should send her back, and if they knew about this—

I wondered how Fenli knew that there were members of the clan who thought she belonged with Runehall’s people.

And I knew I would not like the answer.

Chapter Thirteen

Fenli

Iwouldn’t stay with my clan, but I wasn’t sure where I would go. I was too far from the Saik now, thanks to my idiot husband, and if I showed up at either Elsynbr’s or Rynwin’s clan it would only lead to more problems. Among the Caed, clan jumping was a shameful thing. It was the scandal of the ages when Indi fell in love with one of Runehall’s and left her own people for him. When she came back a few years later, bruised and cradling a baby, it only served to prove the tradition right.

There had to be something, somewhere I could go, someone who would take me in.

I checked over my shoulder, making sure there was no one around to see me slip off on my own into the forest. When I was sure I was in no one’s sight, I headed between the tall pines, into the shadows, my pack over my shoulders and my boots laced tight.

I had meant to hate the Hinterlands. Desperately, I tried to.

But my resolve slipped more and more each day.

I hated the village, hated being with the hunters, hated having Baer watching over my shoulder and Roan under the same roof.

But I was finding myself bewitched by the land itself.

I found the deer trail I’d used a few days back and meandered through the woods, checking my progress against the tentative map I’d sketched, making adjustments as I went and pausing to collect my bearings more than once.

I fell into the rhythm. I lost myself out among the cedars and pines and spruce, but I found myself as well, or at least found where I was in all that uncharted space.

Uncharted to me, anyway. The clan had a map maker by the name of Gaert, but he wasn’t about to share shite with any of us women, let alone me, young and dumb as I was.

I cleared my mind and focused instead on myself and where I was in the sprawl of all this wilderness surrounding me.

The trees seemed ancient and thick with age. They were so tall their tops were often lost to sight. Down below the canopy, the light of the sun was sometimes so dull it slowed my progress, forcing me to peer into every shadow to find my footing and my way. Then the clouds would roll over and the rains would pour, exasperating the issue.

“The skies have spoken,” I whispered. “This, an ancient tongue. Storm awoken. Let this witness come.”

I didn’t mind it. The rains penetrated my other sense even as my sight dulled. The musk and spruce scent of the forest rose all around me. Drops pelted the bits of skin I’d left uncovered—on my cheeks and my hands—and I welcomed them even as a shiver ran across my shoulders. My lungs filled with the cool air. The sound of the battering rains rang out from every leaf within earshot, and I felt caught up in the middle of it all. There was a rumble of thunder, off in the distance. On instinct, I hummed the notes, offering my worship even as I made my way through the trees.

After a time, the storm ebbed to a slow. When I came out from the tree line and onto a secluded bank maybe two miles from the village, it was a quiet drizzle. There, under a shelter, was a stash of canoes. Four of them in all with oars leaning against the back wall.

I hesitated for only a moment. Then I stole one.