Page 68

A brOKEN BIRD

KADEN

W e have a bird in my homeland — tiny, so little it could fit in the palm of your hand with space for another.

A little puff of feathers, and seemingly docile.

The Crimson Wrush, it’s called. All white, with startling red wings, and a red cap on its head.

That’s what Wren looks like, curled into a small ball on the bed in front of me, scarlet streaks through her white hair, stained carmine hands curled protectively across her face, leaving just her closed eyes and thick white lashes visible.

The rest of her is tucked beneath heavy blankets in a silent room, far from the Council House, where Silas and Rannoch led me after the confrontation on the steps.

Her bone necklace is back around her throat, woven through her fingers, pressed against the mottled skin on her cheeks, bruising clear even in the dim light, and I want to break the world around me to pieces, leave no one but her and me breathing.

“I know.”

Rannoch’s voice is somewhere caught between apologetic, antagonistic, and completely helpless.

“What in sky and sea?...” I don’t even know how to continue what I was going to say, and swallow reflexively before forcing myself to ask, “ It’s a stupid question, stupid, but…is she alright? I mean, she’s not alright. I can see that she’s not. I don’t know what to?—”

Silas interrupts, thankfully. “Her attacker pulled some hair from her head…” He pauses, choking, then continues. “He — I think he must have hit her. She has scrapes, bruising. It stops at her hips. She was able to fight him off. But she isn’t unscathed.”

“Yeah, well. Neither is he,” I growl, some small amount of pride creeping into my voice.

They exchange quick, surprised looks, and I sigh.

“Are we pretending that that willow-spined excuse for a man wasn’t the one who did this?

He’ll lose that eye if we’re lucky. She must have really gotten him.

” A vicious grin splits my face. “I’d have liked to have seen that.

This little thing cracking his head open.

A shame it wasn’t just a bit harder. If you can hear me, Wren, even in your dreams, that was fucking brilliant of you. Well done.”

“She shouldn’t have had to.” Rannoch’s voice is tight, even accusatory, and I sense more than see Silas tense up next to me.

“No. She shouldn’t have. But we don’t always have choices.”

“We do , Silas. We actually do. And we may have to make the choices we make, but that doesn’t mean I can’t regret them.”

Wren stirs, a low moan of sound escaping her lips, and both men fall silent.

“Where are we, anyway?” I ask quietly, more to distract them from each other than anything else. If they fight, and wake her, I know we’ll have to leave, and I want as long as possible to study her sleeping face.

“We’re in the old BoneKeeper’s cottage,” Silas replies begrudgingly.

“It’s been mostly abandoned. Few remember that it even exists.

Before Wren, the BoneKeepers lived here.

When Wren was young, she was moved to the Council House for a time, and then given a small home closer to the House for safety. ”

I snort derisively. “How’s that working out for her, I wonder?”

“Not well,” Rannoch replies tightly. “Clearly.”

“We’re doing what we can, Rann,” Silas snaps, clearly frustrated. “When the rains come —” He pauses, and Rannoch inhales long and slow, before exhaling and nodding .

“You’re right. You’re right. When the rains come.” They exchange a long look, and then focus back on Wren.

“They just need to get here sooner,” Silas whispers, and Rannoch nods in agreement.

“What happens when the rains come?” I ask, curious despite myself, but Rannoch is clearly back with Silas, and shrugs.

“What happens, Trader, is that you’ll be gone, so it’s not your concern. Neither, I’ll remind you, is Wren. You have a day left here. Well, the rest of today and tomorrow. And then this will all be a fever dream you’ll leave behind.”

Staring at Wren’s face, brow furrowed even in her sleep, I don’t reply.

“You will be leaving this all behind,” Silas repeats, voice deepening on the echo of Rannoch’s words.

“Well. Not all of it.” Both men tense, but they’re not the only ones who know how to play games, and I tear my eyes from Wren, trying to inject some casual levity into my voice, despite it feeling like shards of glass.

“There’s still the trade to complete, no?

And judging by the exchange on the steps this morning, perhaps we should finish that sooner rather than later.

Three days of the trade is typical, but I won’t stay where we’re accused of attacking women.

If things get ugly, it would be best for us to leave early. ”

Silas relaxes slightly and nods in agreement.

“It’s not a bad idea. Offload the food and goods, and we’ll prepare the silos.

” Turning to Rannoch, he switches from friend to leader in a moment.

“Gather those who need to be involved — anyone who is interested in smaller trades as well, for cloth and wares. We’ll do the town’s exchange in the Second Ring, and ours in the First, at the same time.

Draw attention away from the larger of the two, try to avoid any possible interruptions.

And just…if there are questions, tell them we’ll celebrate again tonight, and leave tomorrow for slow farewells, rather than rushing the exchange on our last day. ”

“Good. That will work to everyone’s advantage.

Nickolas and Raek should be laid up today, but in case — we’ll have it all tied and knotted before they can come in with scissors.

It’s harder to undo what has already been done than it is to just prevent it.

” Rannoch glances toward the door, then, almost as if fighting himself, turns back to Wren’s unmoving form, and lays a gentle hand on her head.

Silas clears his throat, but Rannoch, voice strangled and shaking, whispers, “Don’t.

Just…for once , don’t.” He stands there beside her for what feels like a year, then leaves, saying nothing further.

Silas stares after him, concern carved in every line of his clearly exhausted face.

“It is hard to lead.” I don’t mean to speak, to offer any sort of comfort, but the words are pulled from me in sympathy. Silas doesn’t look at me, just exhales slowly, then scrubs a hand across his face.

“It is.” His reply is almost silent, but in the quiet room even a whisper is a yell, and I can’t help but feel pity for the amount of pain clear in the two simple words.

“This isn’t a place for the soft, Wren said. I don’t think I understood her when she first told me, but it’s becoming clearer now.”

“Wren told you that?” He looks at me curiously, then both of us are jerked like puppets on strings to face a tiny, exasperated voice barely emerging from the cocoon on the bed.

“Are we just all calling me Wren now?” It’s only a heartbeat of sound, but rushes through me like a song, and I have to fight to keep myself from picking her up and stealing her from this place forever.

“You told me to call you Wren,” I say jokingly, purposefully affronted, and am rewarded by the small twitch of her lips from behind her hands, though her eyes stay closed and her face unmoving.

“Hmph.” I can’t help but smile at the disgruntled sound. Silas is more cautious, though, looking back and forth between the two of us as if trying to gauge the waters.

“Are you…how are you feeling, Keeper?”

She laughs a little, but it is a bitter, shattering glass sound, not the gurgle of water I heard from her yesterday. “Oh, I’m very well, can you not tell, Father?”

His face clenches. “Do you need anything?”

She still hasn’t moved, as though just speaking is taking all of her energy, and anything else would be too great of an effort.

“Can you rewind time?” she asks, and I can see the words hit him .

“No.”

“Then nothing from you.”

“I have water, food…” He looks around, taking in the room. “More blankets?” He pauses, then, softly, “Two of the village women offered their company. Bri and Grace. If you would like it.”

I can tell the words surprise her, even if she hasn’t changed from her position curled tightly in the corner of the bed. “Not today. But…maybe….maybe tomorrow. If I am able.”

“Alright.” Reluctance is clear in his voice, but he continues. “Trader — we will run out of time if we don’t leave soon.”

“Time for what?” she asks, and he sighs.

“We have to move the trade up a little. We’ll begin today, and then will have tomorrow for anything left, if needed. Due to unforeseen circumstances, the trade will be cut short.”

Startled, her eyes finally open, and I want to pull my knife and cut every single throat in the town when I see the burst blood vessels staining her white eyes.

“Kaden?” My name is a rainfall of questions, not a single drop, but many, many, all contained in a solitary word.

And I don’t know how to answer any of them.

“I’m here, Wren.”

“Until tomorrow.”

I feel like I’ve swallowed stones, and they sit, lodged in my throat, blocking sound, strangling air. Silas answers for me. “Yes, Keeper. Until tomorrow.”

“Ah.” The exhale is heartbreaking, as if all happiness left her lungs with her breath.

Then, voice calm and empty, “I wish you safe passage home, Trader.” Her eyes close again, only the faintest glimmer of moisture on her lashes revealing anything.

She is turned away from me, her fingers closing to tight fists around her necklace, and Silas shakes his head slowly.

“I’m sorry, BoneKeeper. Truly.”

“For what, Father?” Again, she is blank, as though she is not even in her body.

“For many things said, and more that are unsaid,” he replies quietly, but she doesn’t acknowledge him. Turning to me, he flicks his eyes between her still form and my hovering one, then, reluctance clear, says, “I’ll give you a moment to say good-bye.”

Stepping from the room, he pauses just outside the door, close enough to see, but far enough that, if I whisper, he will not hear. Gliding forward, I sink to my knees beside her bed, though she doesn’t turn to me, and rest my forehead against her back.

“I’m sorry, Wren. I came back. It took longer than I thought. It was stupid, stupid of me. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave the door?—”

“You came back?” She sounds surprised.

“Of course I did! To find the room destroyed, blood—” Choking on the words, I push forward. “I went to the Council House, demanded to see you…”

“It’s…Kaden. We carved dreams from clouds for a night, and it was beautiful, but…

you leave tomorrow.” Wren pauses, then slowly, agonizingly, turns over to face me.

And I know she can’t see me, but I feel like her reddened eyes are memorizing the lines of my face.

“Thank you, though. I felt like someone real for a moment, and you gave that to me.”

“Come with me.” The words are ripped from me, torn from the silent, secret chambers of my heart, but I’ve never meant anything more in my life than I do in this moment.

She’s already shaking her head, but I reach forward, wrapping her hands in mine, bone necklace and all.

“Don’t say no. Don’t say no. Come with me.

I know how. We’ll figure it out. Please. ”

“You’ve known me for a breath, Trader,” she whispers against my fingers, lips brushing my skin, and I tremble.

“If you’ve been drowning for a lifetime, do you need more than a breath to know what oxygen is, Wren? Do you need more than a moment of sunshine to know its difference from rain? Come with me. You don’t have to promise me anything. I don’t want to chain you to me. Just…please.”

Wren’s face is a battle of hope and hopelessness, of wishes and weariness, and I can tell the moment when experience wins out over possibility. “I ca?—”

Silencing her with a finger on her lips, I shake my head.

“Don’t answer now. Now is not the time for it.

A day ago I didn’t know you, and time has shifted since I saw you in the shadows.

Who knows what will happen in the next day, or the one after?

And if you don’t come with me, if you can’t…

” Fighting the tightness in my chest at the thought of not seeing her face again, I continue.

“I’ll walk as slowly as I’m able, until the border of my lands.

I can make a week stretch to two. I’ll look for you, leave my footsteps for you to follow if you change your mind.

Once I get to the border of my people, I won’t have a choice, but I will take as long as I’m able.

Don’t say no. Leave me with hope, Wren. Even if it’s smoke on the wind. ”

Waiting for her answer feels interminable. She doesn’t move, fingers still intertwined with my own, mouth against my skin — doesn’t pull away, but doesn’t push forward, and we are caught in the in-between until Silas breaks the silence.

“Trader. It is time.”

Nodding, I have to force myself to loosen my hands from hers, feeling like I am peeling my flesh off as I withdraw from her.

She stares at me, breath shallow, face bruised, eyes bloody, and I don’t know how anything beyond this moment will be possible, how I can make myself leave without hearing her voice.

“Trader.” Silas is commanding now, all patience used, and I glance over my shoulder at him, before turning to Wren one last time. She is still staring up at me, empty eyes locked on my face.

She bites her lip, holds her breath, then, “...If…” and nothing more.

“If is enough, Wren.”

And it is. Though the swell of hope in my heart feels like knives, and walking away from her tears my soul from my body. If is more than I thought, and more than I deserve.