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It was the only thing that made sense to her, given how her grandfather had described the Court of Light. However…“Why did Lord Massie make the tear here and not in Weald, where he’s from? I thought your kind avoided this place.”

“We do.” Marks ducked below a low and reaching branch. “And I imagine that’s exactly why Massie made the tear here.”

Seph noted that Marks never addressed Massie by his proper title. “Because Lord Massie does not want his errand widely known?” Seph asked, but the only response Marks gave was a tip of his bearded chin. “So why are you not following him?”

“Why would I follow him?”

“Well, you claim you don’t know what he wants with the coat, but aren’t you curious to find out where he’s taking it?”

Marks chuckled, albeit darkly. “No. I do not want to be anywhere near Massie when he realizes he’s got a fake in his hands. Not unless I have an army standing behind me.” And then Marks said, “Wait here.” He stalked off to the right.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t bother turning. “To relieve myself.”

They didn’t broach the subject of Lord Massie again. Actually, they didn’t broachanysubject again, because Marks did not invite further conversation. Seph would have liked to ask him about Rys—or if he truly knew nothing about her papa and Levi—but he was decidedly introspective and quiet. Such behavior didn’t normally deter someone like Seph, but Marks had already been far more generous with her than their bargain required, and the strain of last night still weighed heavily upon him, so she decided not to press him for more and give him space to recover his energy.

Despite his reserve, Seph found an unexpected comfort in his silence and steady presence. She’d spent so much of these past few years alone, wandering the woods and seeking solace beneath their protective boughs. Aside from her grandfather, the trees were the only ones who let her be who she was, without asking her to act…well, more like Linnea. Elias had tried so hard to understand her, saints rest his soul, though even he never comprehended her spirit. Not fully. He’d even called her a termagant once. He’d said it playfully, of course, but Seph had heard the sliver of truth in his tone, and it pricked, though she’d shoved it down deep. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been until now. Which was amusing, since Marks had kept trying to be rid of her, and his semantics drove her crazy, but hedidseem to take her as she was.

Just like the woods.

With him, there was no flattery or posturing. He wasn’t trying to be anything other than what he was, subjecting himself only to the elements, beholden to the only law Seph herself had respected these past few years: survive or die.

Perhaps they weren’t so different after all.

Another hour passed before the mist began to thin. A visibility of ten paces slowly became twenty, a new landscape dawned into focus, and the air smelled less like compost and more like moss and damp earth. Where there had been mist and obscurity, there now stretched a densely wooded forest with a canopy so thick it blocked a gray sky. The trunks themselves were wide as houses, with dizzying heights, and Seph felt suddenly very small. As if the kith god, Demas, had made a home for himself in this place, to dwell amongst his immortal kith, something large and grand enough to contain his celestial form. Even the roots were god-sized, anchoring their impressive charges with feet that stretched across the forest floor, rising and dipping into the earth, as large as any respectable bridge. Seph marveled at Marks’s ability to know his way through this giant maze of trees and sprawling roots. There was no sun to mark direction, no distant landmark to be their guide, and the shadows were thick and deceiving. More than once, Seph mistook a cliff for a step, and she would have tumbled over had it not been for Marks’s steady guidance.

As they traveled, she found herself wondering about him. He appeared somewhere near her age, but Seph had no way of knowing considering the extended lifespans of the kith, and this thought sobered her a little. He could have lived an entire lifetime already. Who washisfamily? Did he have siblings?

A wife?

Was that who Seph was going to meet? The idea struck her uncomfortably. She couldn’t say why, and she decided not to dwell on it. Though she did wonder: what sort of woman would Marks take for a mate? She supposed she’d find out soon enough.

Eventually, daylight faded, and Marks stopped in the bend of a massive tree root to set down his pack.

“We’ll camp here for the night,” he said.

Seph glanced about them, at the darkness crowding all around, and she missed the enchanted walls of the tower. “Will we be safe?”

“It’s as safe as we’re going to get in these woods,” he replied as he moved about their perimeter, carving enchantments into the soft earth with his fingers.

Seph watched him for a moment before asking, “What will those do?”

“Create a glamour,” he said, his back to her. “It should keep us mostly invisible to anything that passes by.”

Seph knew of glamours—visual deceptions kith created to trick the senses and disguise the truth.

“Is it strong enough to hide a fire?” she asked, because with the night had come the cold, and now that they weren’t moving, it was settling in fast.

“Probably not,” Marks said, to her acute disappointment.

Seph didn’t complain, but she did wish she could help him secure their perimeter. Be useful. Watching him work made her feel like a burden, again, and this wasn’t a role she assumed…ever.

Feeling properly displaced, and not knowing what else to do, she unhooked her bow and quiver and sat against the tree root. Once Marks finished his work, he joined her, rummaging through his pack. Seph caught sight of her grandfather’s coat again before he tossed her another lump of stale bread. Seph caught it while Marks sat down beside her, keeping a liberal distance between them.

Perhaps he really did have a wife.

The two of them ate in companionable silence, and eventually Marks stretched one long leg and bent his other, then threaded his fingers and wrapped them around his knee. He leaned back against the tree root and tilted his face toward the reaching boughs above. Shadows clung to his eyes, and his expression was strained with a weariness Seph suspected ran much deeper than last night’s healing or lack of sleep.