Page 27

“She might be annoying, but when it comes down to it, you could step on her.”

“I’m right here,” Daethie reminded us with a sneer. “Try it. Hope you aren’t too fond of your balls.”

Luthri pushed himself to his feet, casting a wary glance at the pixie as he dusted dirt from the seat of his pants. “How did your training go?” he asked, directing the question at me.

I went to sit on the fence, but thought better of it after examining the width and bend of the slats.

Instead, I settled for leaning against one of the posts.

“I can hold mana for a while, but I don’t think I’m any closer to making something out of it.

I was trying all day and only tired myself out with nothing to show for it. ”

“Well, you can’t force it. You’ve got to be persuasive.”

“You don’t think I’m persuasive?” I challenged.

“I didn’t say that,” Lu hedged. “This might just need a… more delicate touch.”

“Oh, so I’m not delicate?”

Vyrain turned away, but he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders shook with the effort to keep quiet. Hohem chortled outright, having no such compunctions.

“Delicate like an Aminkinya , perhaps,” he remarked.

We all shared a giggle. Daethie’s kind might be small, but they were nearly indestructible. That, combined with their sharp teeth, claws, and wings, made them a force to be reckoned with. Some might consider the comparison to be an insult, but you could be likened to worse.

“Um…”

The hesitant interjection was Yrra, who had finished his shower and was stuffing his shirt into the waistband of his pants. He nodded toward the building, where Cantal stood poised outside. “He’s calling us. Time to get started on dinner.”

The twins jumped to attention, and Daethie whizzed ahead.

I pushed away from the fence and was hit with a bout of dizziness.

My arms extended, automatically seeking support as I teetered in place.

Yrra noticed, stepping forward to help, but a solid forearm met my palm before Yrra could make it to me.

I gripped Luthri’s sleeve like a lifeline until the dancing gray spots faded from my vision.

“You all right?” he asked, studying my expression with a frown.

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.” I released the handful of fabric and gave his arm an awkward pat. “Practice today took a lot out of me, that’s all. I’ll be fine with food and a good night’s sleep.”

Lu’s arm remained outstretched. Yrra glanced between the two of us, his thoughtful eyes taking in the way the Peri hovered at the edge of my personal bubble, before moving on.

“I’m good,” I reiterated as my face warmed. “I don’t need an escort to the dinner table.”

“I understand. But would you like one?”

He waited there patiently, respecting my space. My stomach flipped.

“No. Let’s go.”

In my hurry to move on, my answer was more of a grunt than words.

I strode after the others without looking back.

Goddess, what’s wrong with me? I’d become a teenager again, worrying about useless things.

How were we supposed to get along if I couldn’t look him in the face?

There was no pressure; we agreed to be friends.

And who cared if the others noticed? It was none of their business if we decided to have a physical relationship.

Keeping myself busy seemed the smart thing to do. It had served me well before.

We prepared a dinner of massiya , a tasty crescent-shaped pastry similar to a pastel.

The egg-and-mashed-root-vegetable dough was filled with a savory mix of other vegetables and baked on the fire for a delicious and convenient meal.

When they were ready, we convened on the floor and ate with our hands.

Cantal broke out a bottle of fae wine and elegant little serving cups.

Everyone got a glass but Luthri, who declined on account of his delicate constitution, and Daethie, who split one with Yrra.

I was relishing a pleasant buzz and daydreaming about what a massiya would be like with a cheese and chicken filling when a lull in the conversation made me look up.

“We’re heading out tomorrow, yeah?” Hohem inquired, putting down his empty plate.

I answered him. “Yeah. I looked at the map the other day. We’ve got about another week until we reach the edge of the mainland, so long as we can keep up a good pace all the way through the wetlands. Then we have to catch a boat the rest of the way to Munarzed.”

“Can we afford a boat?” Daethie licked her fingers from her spot on Yrra’s knee.

“Hopefully.” That, I wasn’t sure about. I’d never had to take a boat before.

“I believe shippers make the trip every six days,” Cantal informed us. “I can’t say how much it would cost, but they surely have enough room to transport a handful of people alongside the usual supplies. It’s a four-day round trip—I’m not sure how that would impact your plans.”

“I’m not sure either.” I hadn’t thought past making it to the island.

If we couldn’t learn anything by asking around in the city, we’d be going in blind.

How long would it take to find Narille? Where would we even start?

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I mulled over what little we knew.

Hopefully, the shippers could tell us more about the people on the island.

They might even know what happened to Narille.

“Well, let’s make the most of our last night off,” Luthri suggested, leaning back against the wall. He’d sucked down four raw eggs while we prepared dinner; I had no doubt that Cantal was looking forward to us no longer draining his limited resources.

“How about a story?” Vyrain looked to the cleric. “Do you have any about Hermenia?”

“Mm.” Cantal scratched at his jawline. “I do, of course. But most of the sacred stories are not pleasant. Back then, the world was dark. Hopeless. Any tales that survived from that period are much the same. Take the Sacking of Sinsanad, for example.”

At our blank looks, Cantal loosed a weary sigh.

“It’s a particularly depressing one,” he warned.

“Sinsanad was the capital of North Hamra during the Settling Age, a thousand-odd revolutions ago. The city prospered for generations under its leading family, who were followers of Hermenia. Naturally, other powers grew envious of their bounty. Fueled by greed, a powerful amafarin put together an army to take the city and everything in it.”

The unfamiliar word caught my attention. “ Amafarin ? What’s that?”

“Someone who uses their magic for evil,” Vyrain supplied. I nodded, filing away that word in the same place of my brain inhabited by “witch.”

“Sinsanad was not prepared for an attack of that scale, but the men went to fight nonetheless. The king was killed in the initial battle. The queen, distraught, prayed to Hermenia for guidance. Now, the Lady of War is strong, but not all-powerful. The army was too much for them. So, she summoned the women and told them that they had a choice to make.”

The opashi ’s throat bobbed. He laced his fingers together in front of him and blinked to clear the moisture that had gathered in his eyes.

“They could sit back and let themselves be taken as spoils of war,” he murmured, “or they could make a stand. However, none of them knew how to fight—their abilities were put toward home, health, and crafts, not taking lives. All armor and weapons had gone with the men, and they were left with nothing but stones and fire. With few options, they threw boulders and burning coals from the walls to delay the advancing army while they built a fire that could be seen from a great distance.”

His voice cracked as he spoke. He took a moment to compose himself before finishing.

“When the enemy at last breached the city, there was nothing left but fire and bone. The women had cast themselves into the flames rather than be subjected to their evil intentions. The amafarin and his army couldn’t get the blaze under control, so the city burned to ash.

Just like that, the long, happy reign of Sinsanad was ended.

The city was renamed and rebuilt some decades later.

I believe it’s called Riyacal or something like that now. ”

A pregnant silence fell. None of us quite knew how to respond until Luthri spoke up.

“You weren’t wrong. That was depressing,” he said matter-of-factly.

Cantal shrugged. “It was the way of things back then. They recorded these stories—if the history is accurate—as warnings more than anything else. They’re meant to teach important values.

Things like patience, kindness, generosity.

The importance of education for all, regardless of their gender or background.

And to help people connect with their goddess. ”

“A story like that doesn’t reflect all that well on Hermenia,” I said without thinking. Vyrain’s sharp intake of breath made me realize how that might come across. “Then again, I don’t know what I’m talking about. Gods and goddesses aren’t my realm of expertise. ”

I flashed Cantal what I hoped was a charming smile.

“You’re not the only one who feels that way,” he admitted, unruffled. “But in my opinion, it is not our place to measure a divine being against the standards of mortals.”

Right… Ours is not to reason why. Why was the sentiment so familiar?

“How about another story?” Hohem swirled his wine. “Something lighter, perhaps?”

“I’ve got one.” A devious glint appeared in Luthri’s eyes. “Have you ever been to northern Leimor? There’s a tribe of indigenous people, the Santouri , where they look like us from the waist up but have the bottom half of an avida . It’s a struggle getting out there?—”

“Let’s keep it PG,” I interrupted, having more than an inkling of where his story was headed. “That is, appropriate for the current audience.”

Cantal shook his head. “I appreciate your discretion, but it’s not necessary. I assure you I’ve seen and heard it all. Besides, there’s nothing inappropriate about a little romance.”

“I highly doubt there was any romance involved.”

Lu’s countenance was the picture of innocence.

Chuckling to himself, Cantal took up the storytelling mantle once more.

“Speaking of romance, there is an old… legend, let’s say, that claims mana does more than we give it credit for.

It’s a somewhat popular belief in the east. They say each individual has a unique magic signature, and that when two signatures on the same wavelength meet, the individuals will feel an almost irresistible pull toward each other. A fated connection, some call it.”

An emphatic hiccup drew my attention to Daethie.

Her peach-toned cheeks bore a rosy flush.

“ Gian du tiannar ,” she stated, baring her teeth in a sleepy grin.

“Fate knows best. We respect those feelings, especially if it’s telling us to kill someone.

And back in the clan, we formed households based on positive connections with other members. ”

“That’s… sweet,” I ventured as Yrra moved th e cup of wine out of her reach. Forming households based on connections… Isn’t that normal friend groups? Anyone would choose to surround themselves with people they vibe with. It’s how people worked.

“Here, I have another one.” Cantal cleared his throat.

I shifted my position to settle in for the long haul.

Across the way, Luthri did the same, stretching an arm out over a raised knee and tucking his hand under his chin.

Our eyes met, and he winked. This time, I powered through the urge to look away, even as heat crept up the sides of my neck.

I couldn’t afford to lose a battle of wills—what precedent would that create?

Brown eyes bored into gold, the competitive intent a living, tangible thing felt by no one but us.

It became a game wherein Luthri and I were similarly committed.

Who would break first? But the game was over before it truly began, as Lu’s expression gentled, the intensity of his stare going from an electrifying stroke of lightning to the kiss of dawn after a long night.

How had I thought his eyes were eerie? They were beautiful.

Cantal’s smooth, pleasant voice carried on in the background. “The vali nut tree, as you know, is a valuable resource for the people of Kereti and Wysalar, used for its fruit, nuts, and bark. The origin of the tree, however, is highly contested. It’s said that long ago…”