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Quickly, she checked the assassin’s pockets, finding the half-empty vial of a drug and a beautiful broach. Even in its watery form, the broach sparkled with wealth. Past Ayla deliberated whether to pocket or bury it—She kept it.

“It was Mariana’s,” Ayla explained. “I suspect it was his payment, and I still have it. I hid it in my armor—I might need the evidence.”

It was a shallow grave, and she made quick work of filling it. Mud covered her dress.

Body entombed, Past Ayla picked up the dagger and walked to the coach. From the grave, we listened as she overtook the driver, pushing him from the carriage.

She threatened him further, waving the blade to bully him into surrender. He let her go, standing on the roadside. Past Ayla drove the carriage, turning it back the way they had come.

Finally, the specters vanished, their forms falling into puddles.

Ayla finished the narrative. “That was the night I finally ran away. I broke into my mother’s jewelry box and stole Ninti’s ring. My escape plans had been prepared long ago, and I followed them by reflex.I was out of the capital within an hour.”

She breathed, settling into herself. The sun rose quickly, time accelerated in this strange world. Beyond tears, she gave way to sleep, slumping into my embrace.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Ayla straightened, facing the Firewolf at eye level.

Ninti seemed hesitant, a strange look on such an emblazed beast. She settled on her haunches, head hung as she waited for Ayla to respond.

“What happened?” Ayla asked.

“A block, I think,” she answered. “It started a few days before Mariana’s coronation, but I don’t know what caused it. When you stole the ring, the block began to weaken, but I couldn’t break through—not until you struggled against the Gray General.”

“How?” Ayla asked.

“There are lots of ways it could have happened.” Ninti nuzzled her, her fur brushing my face. “What matters is that we’re together now.”

Ayla dug her face into Ninti’s fur, and the sky turned blue, the sun warming the forest. The rain passed and our clothes dried, cleaning themselves as if we had never been soaked.

“Shall we?” the Firewolf asked, stepping past the grave. The mound of dirt vanished, replaced by the stone arch. On the other side, Leo’s forested shell seemed bright.

“I did it,” Ayla breathed. She hugged me. “We did it.”

In her exhaustion, she leaned into me. I picked her up, holding her to my chest as I carried her across the threshold.

“We did it,” I echoed, unsure whowewere.

21 | Acclimation

Ayla

Vanessa’s voice boomed through the ship. “That fiery beast is not allowed on my ship.”

“It’s not your ship, not yet,” Zayne corrected her.

“Don’t worry,” Ninti replied. “My fire won’t burn a thing. I’m only dangerous when Iwantto be.”

Vanessa sniffed, already at odds with the Firewolf.

Safe in Zayne’s arms, I was content to listen and too tired to contribute. Zayne had me; he held me, and for the first time since the night from hell, I felt safe.

It was a nice feeling—and one I didn’t think would last long. Not with the nature of our quest.

Yes, I had joined this crew when I boarded that morning, but my heart held back. How could I save Zayne’s sister when mine had orchestrated an assassination attempt? My wound was fresh, prone to inflammation and infection.

Mariana had tricked me. Not-Carson made a fool out of me. Now my misplaced trust shamed me. Could I confront my sister? Would there be consequences for killing the assassin? Was it ever safe to trust?