Page 16

Chapter nine

H ues of green surrounded us on all sides, the trees so tall in places I had to stretch to find where they ended, up, up, up into the sky.

A thin blanket of frost crunched beneath every cautious step I took.

Mercifully, that caution waned—as the morning sun peaked higher above the horizon—and disappeared entirely when I could turn back and no longer see even the faintest wisp of smoke from the fire we’d started.

My old home. Reduced to ashes.

I imagined Phillip and Oliver, their souls flying free on the wind. I could feel their contentment, their peace, in the powerful sigh of the early-winter air.

As if Phillip was released from his vices. As if he whispered to me, “ Be free.”

Indeed, I focused on the world around me and tried to be just that. The sun blinded and warmed me as I walked underneath breaks in the forest canopy, as it reflected off the icy sheen coating the ground.

Ezra and the Sinclair brothers found humor in my childlike awe of new things.

That first day, I saw a lynx and a grizzly bear.

The latter from afar because, upon spotting it, Smyth gripped my arm and led us all in the opposite direction—to go around, he said.

He didn’t seem afraid of the bear, but irritated.

As if he could kill it like he did the wolf in the barn, but it was still an inconvenience.

I resisted when he pulled me away, just so I could stare at the creature.

The bear was huge . Finn guessed it was pregnant.

We saw a moose, plenty of rabbits and squirrels. Gemma claimed it wouldn’t be long before we saw black bears too. Oliver and I had been allowed to watch from the window when animals were present, but venturing outside had been prohibited. Where there was prey, there would always be a predator.

More often than not, Gemma had to grab my arm and pull me ahead so I could keep up with the rest of the group.

When I’d gone to the village days before, I’d been so hungry and tired that I’d hardly paid attention to my surroundings.

Now, it was an effort to focus on much else when there was beauty everywhere I looked.

The world outside of my old home was breathtaking, and I failed to comprehend that darkness could exist out here.

But one glance at Smyth’s scars and I remembered how much I didn’t know.

He hovered close to me at all times. The air was frigid, but the consistent movement, the energy it took to push forward through those woods, kept me warm. I was mostly comfortable, despite the exhaustion.

When the sun rose to its highest peak, we paused for a midday meal.

Smyth insisted I eat a considerable amount to regain any energy I’d lost that morning.

I didn’t mind the insistence, for better or for worse.

He made me feel safe out here, too, like I could venture freely but sink back into his arch of protection if needed.

I walked next to Finn now. Gemma and Caz led our pack, Ezra walked in front of us, and Smyth followed not far behind—to seek a view wide enough to identify threats on all sides .

I said to Finn, “Gemma said that Simeon and Molochai found the power in Nyrida. How did they find it?”

He shrugged. “No one truly knows except Simeon, and he keeps it to himself to protect us in case Molochai ever captures one of us.” Finn noticed my confusion and added, “If we don’t know anything about the power, we’re useless to him, and he would hopefully make death… quick .”

Nausea roiled in my stomach. No escape, just a quick death—the only mercy one could ask for if dragged into Molochai’s dreadful abyss. The image of two other deaths flashed through my mind. Two bodies, one large, one small, limp in respective pools of cooling blood—

I forced out a sigh to silence my thoughts. They were gone. They were at peace. No pain.

No pain, only peace . I repeated the assurance thrice. If I could tattoo it on my heart, I would. Make it a permanent part of myself so it couldn’t come and go. So it couldn’t haunt me.

I shuddered against the cold of the air and my thoughts and couldn’t help but wonder if Simeon—my father— kept the power’s origin hidden from his people for other reasons.

Was he afraid that, in sharing the information, he would be risking it happening all over again?

Did he feel guilty for playing a part in Molochai’s eventual destruction, for helping create the monster that had slowly killed his sister, his brother-in-law, their infant child? I didn’t think he should.

But I shouldered responsibility for Phillip, for Oliver, even when Ezra told me it wasn’t my blame to carry. I couldn’t just let it go .

“What’s Simeon like?” I asked Finn.

“I’ve only met him twice.” He offered me his hand to help me over a fallen oak.

“When he does come to the Caves, he sticks mostly to his inner circle—the Wintertons and the Elders.” He nodded to me to imply that I would be included in that group.

“He’s quiet. Wise. I’d say old, and he is, but he only looks to be in his forties. ”

Indeed, the benefits of suspended aging.

“What is your reason?” I asked. “Is there a reason they chose you and Caz to come along with Ezra?”

“Besides the fact that Ezra’s like our little brother and we didn’t trust anyone else to keep him safe? Well, Caz’s wife had something to do with it.”

I frowned. Caz had a wife, yet he’d left her in the Caves to come fetch me?

Finn, noting my concern, explained with a warm laugh, “Marin practically volunteered us herself. She’s pregnant, due the second week of Rainar.

She said if the queen hasn’t arrived before the baby does, it’d be bad luck, which she certainly would not tolerate.

She might as well have kicked us out the door.

” He glanced ahead at his brother and smirked, his voice lowering.

“Between you and me, I think Caz was driving her crazy, waiting on her hand and foot. Wouldn’t leave her alone.

Marin is a gem of a woman, but she certainly doesn’t like being coddled. ”

I smiled, thinking this might be my favorite part—hearing about others I would come to know. A family I could make for myself if the burden of being queen didn’t draw an indomitable void between them and me. I hoped they could see me as… me. Just me. I hoped that would be enough.

“What about you?” I asked Finn. “Do you have someone?”

Finn’s olive skin blushed red, and I caught him throwing a glance toward Gemma, who walked a great deal ahead of us. “Not at the moment.”

I bit my lip, suppressing a grin, wondering how long Finn and Gemma had known each other, and if there was more between them.

By the end of the first day, we had walked a total of ten hours.

My body screamed with reproach and begged for rest. I had no idea how I’d make it through the coming weeks unless someone picked me up and carried me.

And that would be humiliating. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from groaning as I lowered myself down on a rock near the place we’d decided to make camp.

I failed to keep quiet, Ezra hearing me and cringing apologetically from where he unrolled his sleeping mat a few paces away.

“It gets easier.” Gemma walked by and squeezed my shoulder.

It took effort not to snap back—not at her or because of her—but because my mother or Simeon or someone could have prepared me enough to spare me this shame. This uselessness.

I grunted and heaved my knapsack off my shoulder, collapsing along with it.

Smyth ordered the others to check the perimeter in pairs to ensure there were no signs of travelers, thieves, or Insidions. He stayed with me, even after I insisted I go with them. Even after Gemma objected, less than thrilled about leaving me alone with him.

I sat on my sleeping mat, legs tucked into my chest, arms wrapped around my knees. My body was grateful for the rest, but my chest was heavy with guilt that the others had to do all the work. A knowing warmth brushed against my skin. I could feel him watching me.

“There’s no indignity in rest, Ella,” he said finally.

I looked up at him and sighed. Easy for him to say. When did he need to rest? Probably never, he was so used to the cold, the wilderness. I hadn’t seen him rest once in the past four days.

“They should never have kept me in the dark.”

“One of many things,” he sighed, squatting down to build a campfire from the dried leaves, pine needles, twigs, thin sticks, and a few larger pieces of wood he’d gathered, “that you and I very much agree on.”

I took note of how he placed the kindling in a center pile with slightly larger sticks crisscrossed over the top, just in case I ever had to do it myself.

He lit the fire with a match and discarded it into the flames.

When he noticed me watching, he instructed, “Keep the fire small, controlled, and any additional fuel upwind, away from the flames.”

I nodded and memorized his instructions. “I don’t remember much at all from before the accident,” I rushed out, unsure why I felt the need to explain myself to him. “But at least I should have plenty of room in my memory for all you teach me.”

I stared, waiting for his reaction without a clue what I was looking for.

Praise, perhaps. Confidence that I could become something.

He gave me nothing. His features were like stone, but I thought I saw his knuckles strain against his skin from the grip of his folded hands.

Frowning, I focused my gaze on the dancing flames and absorbed the heat that soothed my aching muscles.

“Is Smyth your real name?” I asked, unable to stand the silence. The name seemed to fit him: direct, strong, unembellished. And yet, a name so simple didn’t sit right with me. He was… more.

He glanced up from the other side of the campfire, his dark brow lifted. “Does it not sound like my real name?”