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His eyes, though distant, stayed miraculously dry. I cried until the tears stopped coming. It was cathartic in a way; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let go of everything and just felt .

A ship arrived later that day, though it wasn’t Gerda’s.

It didn’t matter whose it was, so long as there was room, but therein lay the difficulty—we weren’t the only ones who wanted off the island as soon as possible, and people fought for a spot.

Narille firmly stepped in to claim enough for us all: herself, the three dour older women with similarly alien features she’d introduced as members of her household, Luthri, Hohem, and me.

We made our way to the beach south of the city, passing two bodies hung on hastily erected crosses.

Birds had already begun to scavenge for their breakfast, but there was no mistaking the shadow-hued skin and slighter, feminine figure beside the man’s.

The barbaric display made my nose wrinkle, but if it gave people peace to desecrate their bodies, so be it.

The rest of us waited to one side with our meager belongings while Narille spoke with the ship’s owner.

I wasn’t the only person who had never made a high-born lady’s acquaintance, and Narille, in her delicate layers of fabric and embroidered overcoat, made an impression on everyone she met.

She walked with authority, spoke with grace, and had a particular method of eye contact.

As such, no one was surprised when she waved us forward despite having no money to offer.

“Convenient,” Luthri murmured from beside me as we boarded.

I nodded absently. My focus remained on Hohem, who carried one of our packs even though I had all but begged him not to worry about it. Once we got settled, my priority would be finding him something nutritious to eat and somewhere quiet to rest.

However hard we all had it, Hohem was in his own bracket.

Exhaustion, discomfort, and hunger were temporary, physical things.

Sorrow cut through to the soul, stripping away all traces of humor, along with the light in his eyes.

It was as though he’d aged ten years overnight.

He moved like a ghost—frail, quiet, going through the motions.

I chewed on my bottom lip, unable to watch my friend suffer and equally unable to tear my eyes away. It wasn’t that I was heartless—my own sadness cut deep, but it was a heartache I knew would heal given time. For Hohem… would time be enough?

Narille and Luthri, having noticed the same, had their ways of looking out for him.

Narille periodically asked questions to keep him involved.

Luthri pulled enough weight for the both of them so that Hohem could take it easy as we prepared to leave.

He’d tried to banter once or twice, but the jokes didn’t land.

There was a right and wrong time to try mending things with humor.

Luthri, for all his experience with the world, hadn’t yet learned the subtleties.

People continued pouring onto the ship, jostling others aside in their eagerness to claim a spot. Coins glinted as they exchanged hands. The owner passed orders along to hustling crew members, who rushed customers into the bowels of the ship to make room for more .

Grateful we wouldn’t have to fight, I told Narille, “Appreciate you taking care of that. And covering our fare—the journey up to now hasn’t exactly been kind.”

Her head jerked in an odd gesture somewhere between a nod and a shake.

“It’s the least I can do in return for your aid,” she replied.

“We would not be here without your efforts.” Mischief lent a spark of life to her eyes.

“And it was no trouble. I simply told him they could keep the shipment they’d brought for Rugaveld. I figured no one will miss it.”

My eyebrows climbed my forehead, and my opinion of Narille shifted in a more charitable direction. Maybe it was worth trying our luck after all. “Any chance we could get private quarters? The peace and quiet would go a long way after the last couple of days.”

“That, I cannot promise.” The heiress’s gaze searched for the ship owner, but he was deep inside a writhing crowd. “When things are calm, I can inquire with our captain.”

“I’ll keep expectations reasonable. Thank you again.”

Hohem had dropped his bag and slid down the side of the ship, folding his legs underneath him. His head tipped forward, eyes closed. I excused myself from the conversation to join him on the floor, scooting back until my shoulders hit wood.

I nearly asked him how he was doing, but that would have been a stupid question.

“We’ll be able to get settled in soon,” I said instead, hoping that having something to look forward to would provide him with some small comfort.

He didn’t open his eyes. “Thank you.”

If only I had something better to offer him.

A hot meal, a proper bed, anything . He might have volunteered for it, but this trip turned out to be more than we bargained for.

Hohem took it on without complaint. First, our mishaps with the man-eating beetles and waterfolk family.

He almost lost his life in the swamps along with Luthri and Vyrain.

He toughed it out with his brother while Luthri and I were cozy in Rugaveld’s mansion. And finally …

He’d had a difficult time of it, indeed.

We rested in relative silence until the captain started turning people down, then chasing them off the ship when they objected. I tensed as it looked like we might need to help him achieve order, but Narille didn’t move, and she was my guideline right now.

I caught her attention and indicated the aggravated rabble left behind. “Will they have someone to maintain order temporarily? Keep things organized until the next ship?”

A pained expression crossed her face. “Normally, that would be the case. That’s why our local government is never designed around one or two people.

With the changes Rugaveld and his progeny implemented, however, not to mention the trauma we’ve all suffered these past cycles…

I doubt anyone will be up to the task. It is out of our hands. ”

Narille had a good head on her shoulders.

Some things were too big for a single person.

In this case, doing the “right thing” simply wasn’t feasible, no matter how much we might want to help smooth things over.

No use torturing ourselves over their fate.

Still, a pang of regret hit, as if I had a personal responsibility to Munarzed’s people.

While private spaces on the ship were few and far between, we were given a storage room.

It was tight for seven of us, but we couldn’t complain with the other travelers crammed in toe-to-head and elbow-to-elbow in the main areas.

The captain ruefully remarked that they didn’t have enough provisions to feed a hundred extra mouths, so most of them went hungry too.

We spread out as much as we could on our mats and put together a scant meal between our supplies and Narille’s.

Hohem declined his portion of travel fare, but the rest of us were eager to fill our bellies.

As we chatted and ate, he retreated to one corner, burrowed into his bedding, and curled up facing the wall. Luthri and I exchanged a look.

Narille leaned in. “If it would help,” she whispered, “I know of at least one opashi in Solfarin. We could take a brief detour for everyone to cleanse their spirits. ”

It wouldn’t be worth the delay, but her suggestion did give me an idea. “That’s all right, thank you. Let’s focus on getting you home. We’ll worry about that in our own time.”

She nodded and returned to her meal.

When the meal concluded, no one dawdled.

The priority turned to clearing enough space for everyone to lie down and get comfortable, passing out blankets, and stripping out of unnecessary layers.

Luthri and I ended up on opposite sides of the room, so there would be no hushed pillow talk, but that suited me just fine.

Moments after setting my head down, using my arm as a pillow, I drifted away to sleep, lulled by the steady rocking of the ship and weariness like I’d never known before.