《Daughter of Rebels》 (1) She Knew She knew before she even saw her visitor¡¯s dirty, blood-streaked face that the news was dire. How could she not? Nothing good came knocking in the wee and wild hours of the morning. She knew before he pushed his way inside, his energy a dark calm, crackling with sparks of frenetic urgency. ¡°Where¡¯s Nick?¡± he asked. Mara didn¡¯t answer. She had a question of her own to ask¨Cone she could hardly conjure for fear of what she already knew. She swallowed the thickness in her throat and stepped back to make room for him in the foyer. ¡°Where¡¯s Davy?¡± Eli entered the small mudroom and immediately turned to shut the heavy oak door and flip the locks, drop the bar into place. When he turned back, the bleak sorrow in his eyes hit her like a hammer to the chest. ¡°No,¡± she gasped, knees buckling. He caught her, the worn leather of his gloves chafing her elbow, the back of her arm. ¡°Where is Davy?¡± she moaned as he lowered her to the small bench just inside the door. ¡°He¡¯s gone, Mara. I¡¯m sorry. Where is Nick?¡± ¡°How¡­¡± No. No, he was wrong. Davy could not be gone. Not her husband. Her fierce, powerful husband. So little time had passed since he left the house. Hours. And mere hours weren¡¯t enough to claim a soul like Davy¡¯s. It would take years. Decades. He couldn¡¯t just be gone. ¡°Is he¡ª¡± ¡°Mara.¡± Eli crouched before her and took her hands. Kind, earth-brown eyes met hers and a preternatural calm washed over her. Shock, she thought. I am in shock. ¡°Mara, he¡¯s dead. I am so sorry, but we don¡¯t have time yet for you to grieve. Is Nick in his room?¡± She found herself nodding. Calm. So calm. ¡°I¡¯ll get him. You have a bag packed?¡± She did. He must know. They all kept bags packed, should the Order discover them. But it was a measure of posterity, really. The Order didn¡¯t even know the rebels had infiltrated their ranks, let alone who they were. Did they? Depths. ¡°Mara, do you have a bag packed?¡± She started a little and met his eye. Nodded. ¡°Good. Go get your pack. Change into walking clothes. Grab whatever keepsakes you want to bring. You have ten minutes.¡± ¡°Why? Eli, how¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll explain everything later. There¡¯s no time now. Go pack.¡± Her legs lifted her from the bench and her feet carried her up the stairs, Eli at her heels. At the top of the stairs she went left into the master suite while he went right into Nick¡¯s room. She changed quickly into the clothes she wore to forage in the chill of dawn¡ªloose pants, soft shirt, leather coat, scarf, high leather boots. Her rucksack was under the bed where she knew it would be. She pulled it out and set it on the foot of the bed. It was only half full¡ªpacked with spare clothing, toilet items, and other essentials, sleeping roll strapped to the bottom. She went to her bedside drawer and pulled out her Codex, spelled to resemble an ordinary journal, and a thin envelope containing family portraits and letters from Davy. Looping around the bed, she pulled open Davy¡¯s bedside drawer and stared at the mayhem within. She was always pestering him about the little messes he squirreled away in her otherwise tidy home. She felt nothing as she dug through the jumble for his one treasured item¡ªa small bloodletting dagger she¡¯d given him when they married¡ªand tucked it, along with her own items, into her rucksack. There was little else she needed from the bedroom. Everything of value was in her workplace in the cellar, so she slung the bag over her shoulder and slipped across the hall to Nick¡¯s room. Eli had lit an oil lamp and was working her son¡¯s small limbs into a thick sweater. Nick was groggy, striking eyes so like his father¡¯s still clouded with sleep. ¡°Do you need help?¡± she asked. Eli shook his head as he tugged the sweater into place and handed her the small drawstring bag she kept packed for her son. She accepted it, retrieving Nick¡¯s baby blanket from his crib and shoving it into the bag. ¡°I need some things from the cellar,¡± she told him. ¡°Will you gather what we need from the kitchen?¡± He nodded. A man of few words, was Eli. So unlike her husband, who always knew just what to say and how best to say it. To be loved by him was to be surrounded by music, his affection like the early-morning trill of songbirds, the crashing melody of an orchestra, the lonely cascade of a piano in the evening. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Depths, how could he be gone? Just gone? ¡°Mara,¡± Eli said. One word. No music. The calm returned, wrapping around her shoulders like a shawl. She nodded and hurried downstairs to the kitchen, hauling the rug out of the way to reveal the trapdoor to the cellar. It was a poor disguise, but she¡¯d never needed a better one. The true protection lay in Davy¡¯s magic, in her own, woven together and draped in protective swaths over every corner of their home. Hauling the trapdoor open, she hurried down the steps to her workspace, feeling only a vague, intellectual sadness as she lit the lantern by the stairs and took in her sanctuary. Bookshelves covered the entire wall opposite the staircase, precious references ferried in secret to her from across the continent, a few from over the seas. The other walls had shelves as well, some with books but most with jars and bottles, potions and spells she¡¯d brewed over the years. All meticulously organized by purpose and potency. She could find what she needed in here with her eyes closed. Ignoring the shelves, the books, she went to the wide desk in the corner and pulled open the top drawer. She took out the little dagger she used for bloodwork, her predictive runes, and the jar of black salt Davy had brought her from the wastelands. From the next drawer down she retrieved the small wooden box containing her most precious seeds. Goldleaf. Holy Weed. Rubifel. Poison Cherry. Wildewort. Loquash. Vilios. Precious. Irreplaceable. She slipped the box into her rucksack, tucking it against the back so that she¡¯d feel its edges between her shoulder blades. A discomfort, but a comforting one. There was some room to spare, so she pulled out one of her spare shirts and used it to wrap up a few potion bottles, just in case. Rejuvenatives, stimulants, calming draughts, all with silly names scrawled in wax pen on the bottles¨CRough Morning, Gods¡¯ Spit, Depths Draught. Davy¡¯s doing, of course. He had a penchant for foolishness that belied his serious work. Last, the small tin of contraceptive tablets that had no name because no client ever asked directly for them. The girls¡¯ need was sensed, not spoken. Haggard faces, empty eyes, hands clenched in skirts or pressed over stomachs. The stink of fear and shame. ¡°One tablet per month,¡± was all she ever had to say, measuring out sometimes a year¡¯s worth, sometimes more if the girl looked particularly frail or frightened, unlikely to conjure the strength for another visit to the local underground physik. Her heart stuttered in protest as she hefted her bag and turned toward the stairs, but she didn¡¯t linger for one final goodbye to her cherished space. After all, she told her heart, Davy was gone. What use was there in wasting precious, aching beats on inanimate space when the very lifeblood that pumped through it had gone cold? She ascended the stairs in measured steps and found Eli in the kitchen. He knelt in the door to the pantry with an open bag¡ªDavy¡¯s rucksack, she realized¡ªopen in front of him. Nick sat on the counter, tousled hair sticking out from beneath a knit cap, and she and her son both watched as Eli shoved items into the bag. Bread, cheese, apples, water flasks, jerky. ¡°Where are we going?¡± she asked, looping an arm around Nick and tucking him into her side. He rested his head on her shoulder and stuck a thumb in his mouth. Two was too old to be sucking his thumb, she and Davy both agreed. She ought to tug it gently from his mouth, but instead she only pressed a kiss to the side of his head. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you just yet,¡± Eli answered, closing the bag and swinging it onto his back. In the light of the lamp he¡¯d lit, she finally got a good look at him. Blood smeared his face and drew his hair into sharp spikes, and the leather chest plate of his Order uniform was marred with deep gouges, one sleeve torn and bloody. However Davy had died, it had been violent. ¡°Are you alright?¡± the physik in her asked, though the question tasted bitter in her mouth. She barely knew Eli. She didn¡¯t care about him or for him. He was Davy¡¯s friend. Davy¡¯s colleague. Davy¡¯s confidante. Not hers. And however alright or not alright he was, he was healthier than Davy. More whole. More here. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± He tightened the straps of the pack without looking her in the eye. ¡°You¡¯re ready?¡± ¡°Please tell me where we¡¯re going.¡± ¡°The Hive.¡± The Hive? That wasn¡¯t a destination. ¡°And after that?¡± He scooped Nick off the counter. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you right now.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t or won¡¯t?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t. You¡¯re ready?¡± Mara looked at Nick. Still half-asleep, he¡¯d relaxed into Eli¡¯s hold, arms forming a trusting loop around his neck. So out of character for her son. He was in a phase right now. Even the Swifts weren¡¯t allowed to hold him. Just her and Davy. Just her. ¡°Eli, I¡ª¡± ¡°Mara. Look at me.¡± Against her better judgment, she did as he asked. ¡°Do you have everything you need?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Her lips were numb, her tongue thick. ¡°Okay. It¡¯s time to go. Stay behind me. Keep quiet. Tell me if you get tired. We have a long way to go. If anything happens to me, go first to the Hive. Ask for Beth.¡± ¡°The Hive,¡± she echoed, questions rising out of the recesses of her brain and bouncing off her skull, trapped. ¡°Ask for Beth.¡± ¡°Beth,¡± she repeated. Without further instruction, he turned toward the back of the house and she followed, her feet obedient, her heart rebellious, straining to stay in the home she¡¯d built with her husband¡ªtheir little den of honesty and love amid a warren of secrets and cruelty. But even if she stayed, the love had gone with Davy, out into the night, never to return. So out into the night she followed it. (2) Paradise Hill Sharp air bit Mara¡¯s nose and cheeks as she followed Eli out into the dark alley behind the townhouse she¡¯d called home for the last five years. The alley was silent this time of night, this time of year. No wailing cats or stumbling drunks. Just silence. Ghostly gray clouds raced mutely across the sky overhead, limned in the pink-silver light of the crescent moon. Eli turned left, toward the heart of the city. Toward the Hive, where the Keepers of Truth lived behind windowless granite walls, cloaked in secrecy. Mara had always found the Keepers¡¯ mythos to be a little overgrand. A little theatrical. Then again, she¡¯d never been to see them. Davy had, and he said if anything the performance fell short of their raw power. Eli skirted a puddle and she followed, her feet treading in his path, her eyes fixed to Nick¡¯s head, resting against Eli¡¯s shoulder, little more than a dark lump. She knew the back routes of these alleys well enough, having spirited herself all over the Capital in the early years of her career. Before Davy, her clients never came to her. She traveled to them, promoted by whispered word of mouth, summoned by code words. Despite the hobbled grief, the eerie calm, her heart skipped now as it had then, fueled by a remembered fearful, joyful thrill. She dogged Eli¡¯s footsteps for ten minutes, thirty, an hour as the buildings around them morphed and grew. They left behind the low, humble townhouses of Mara¡¯s neighborhood for the more impressive merchant district¡ªtall brick buildings that housed both shops and residences. Though not as distinct as it was in the height of summer, the smell of the alleyways evolved as they passed from one row of shops to another. Sour to fishy to musty to sweet and back to sour. Some of the windows glowed yellow¡ªbakers, probably, kneading and proofing the day¡¯s bread--and she followed Eli as he tucked himself and Nick into the shadows when they passed those windows, skirting the dim light slanting across the packed dirt of the alley. They moved through the city like lone insects, parted from their swarm. Streets that bustled beneath the sun were wiped clean of humanity by the Order¡¯s curfew and the formidable penalties its violation incurred. Even the back alleys were abandoned, the unfortunate souls that occupied them during the day gone into quiet hiding until the sun rose and they were able to emerge back into the world, albeit no more visible to the crowds that packed the cobbled streets. Her feet were sore, her back aching beneath the weight of her pack by the time they left the merchant district behind and skulked into the outer edges of Paradise Hill. She hadn¡¯t been here since her traveling days, and guilt gnawed at the edges of her conscience. The folks here were confined to the limits of the slum and their plodding routes to and from work. None would have been able to visit her after she married Davy. Not without risking discovery and arrest. She knew she¡¯d done more good for the rebellion since marrying Davy. More lofty good. But had that lofty good ever touched the residents of Paradise Hill? Would it ever? Their route meandered as they plunged deeper into the slum, main thoroughfares barely distinguishable from back alleys. Brick gave way to cheap, rotting wood, the myriad scents of fresh garbage to the uniform reek of decay. The air was closer here, and cooler, the silence a bated breath. Living. Waiting. Without warning, Eli slowed and stopped beside a gate that hung off broken hinges, set into a wall of rotting planks. Before she could speak, he ducked through the gate into what appeared to be little more than a repository for garbage. Rats scurried beneath a rank heap of sacks and decaying food scraps in the corner as Mara followed him into the shadows. ¡°Rest a minute,¡± he murmured, somehow quieter than a whisper, pressing Nick into her arms. ¡°I¡¯ll be back.¡± Her son had fallen asleep and she hefted his floppy-limbed body higher in her arms, back twinging with the effort. ¡°Where are you going?¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Scouting ahead. Twenty minutes. You¡¯ll be safe here.¡± She believed him, if only because she knew Paradise Hill, knew the way these people lived. Up at dawn, down at dusk, they passed their days in contented squalor, held in thrall to the Order and obedient no matter the injustice leveled against them. There were some, she knew, who saw the circumstances and resented them, but they were held in thrall themselves, bound to the distant promise of the rebellion. Waiting patiently for salvation. Eli shrugged off his pack¡ªDavy¡¯s pack¡ªand set it against the wall, gesturing for her to sit. ¡°Twenty minutes,¡± he said again, unnecessary reassurance. The oppressive calm suffocated every strong emotion within her, every flicker of fear or anguish. "Wait here." She sat, tucking Nick¡¯s head beneath her chin, and watched the dark shape that was Eli duck through the narrow opening and disappear. She tried to stay alert, but the longer Eli was gone the more the calm faded. At first it was just a tickle of uncertainty. Then, an itch. An irritating, beneath-the-skin prickle. Davy is dead. No. He couldn¡¯t be. Davy couldn¡¯t be dead, because Davy was life. He was color, he was joy, he was strength. He wasn¡¯t a candle, to be snuffed out with no warning, mere hours after she¡¯d last felt the heat of his touch, tasted the sweetness of his kiss. He was a bonfire. Roaring. Powerful. Bright. The prickle beneath her skin tightened to an ache, muscles clenching, ribs contracting around her lungs. She lowered her face to Nick¡¯s head and struggled to draw a breath. Davy is dead. Perhaps she was dreaming. Yes, yes that must be it. She¡¯d had this dream before, after all. Davy dead, Davy lost, Davy hurt, Davy captured, Davy discovered. She always woke from those dreams with tears on her face and her chest tight with swallowed sobs. She always woke from those dreams with Davy¡¯s arms around her, his voice warm in her ear. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m here, Mara. I¡¯m here.¡± Mara closed her eyes and tried to wake. She imagined herself coming loose from this false earth and drifting up into the sky until the universe inverted and dropped her back into reality. But that sense of falling never came, and when she opened her eyes she still sat on Davy¡¯s rucksack with Nick her lap, amidst piles of garbage that rose up over her head on three sides and reeked sweetly of death. Davy is dead. Davy was dead and Eli¨Ca man she hardly knew, beyond her husband¡¯s assurances that he was a friend¨Chad come to spirit her away from what remained of the life they¡¯d built. She didn¡¯t know where they were going, why they were going. She didn¡¯t, she realized suddenly, even know if Davy was truly dead. Eli was duplicitous by nature, as was Davy, as was she. They were rebels, living underground beneath the Order¡¯s nose, their lives little more than a tangle of lies and half-truths. So why should she believe something so unbelievable just because Eli had said it? Comforted by this reasoning, she leaned back against the damp wood of the enclosure and waited. When Eli returned, she would confront him. By the time he did return, nearly an hour later, the calm within her had faded to a distant memory. Only common sense kept her voice low and her temper under control when he ducked through the gate. ¡°Where are we going?¡± she demanded, her words a hiss of challenge as she shot to her feet. ¡°The Hive,¡± he answered, skirting her to pick up his discarded pack¨CDavy¡¯s pack. He gave it a little shake to dislodge whatever refuse it had collected from the ground. ¡°Davy isn¡¯t dead,¡± she whispered, and his eyes lifted, just a glimmer of life in the shadows. ¡°What?¡± Her arms clenched spasmodically around Nick and she shook her head, harder than she needed to. ¡°Davy isn¡¯t dead. I don¡¯t believe you.¡± He stepped closer, and she could just make out the whites of his eyes, the depth of the irises, rendered inky black by the darkness. ¡°He is,¡± he said simply, and the calm again came over her, part comfort and part prison. She couldn¡¯t even resist, didn¡¯t want to, as he lifted Nick from her arms. ¡°We have to go.¡± She hefted her pack higher and followed him back into the maze. (3) The Widow Swift It was near dawn when they reached the wide, cobblestone road drew a stark, uncompromising line between the squat, cobbled-together shelters of Paradise Hill and the white-washed brick of the Order¡¯s opulent residential district. They lingered within the slum, tucked beneath a lopsided overhang made of what appeared to be shipping crates and a sheet of worn canvas. Two overturned buckets sat beneath canvas shelter, an ash-caked ceramic bowl between them. Mara sat on one of the two buckets and felt the echo of the usual inhabitants¨Ctwo woman, sitting on the buckets, pipe smoke curling over their heads as they laughed together. There was joy here, she knew. Just not right now. Eli sat on one of the buckets and so did she, and for a moment they both simply studied the cobblestone street, colored sickly yellow by the streetlamps that stood like sentries on the far side, spaced perfectly, every twenty strides, so that no shadow was allowed to creep in between them. ¡°The next guard should pass by soon,¡± Eli said. ¡°We¡¯ll need to move quickly. The Hive only opens at dawn.¡± They weren¡¯t far, Mara knew. Rather than cluster its officers together, the Order had spaced them out into a narrow ring that encircled the city, just inside the wall. ¡°To stay connected with the people,¡± the outreach officers said. ¡°To keep us from losing touch with what¡¯s important.¡± But Mara knew, everyone capable of free thought knew that it was just another means of control. No part of the city was out of sight of the Order¡¯s decision-makers. The crow¡¯s nests jutting from the roof of each palatial townhome weren¡¯t for show. They kept watch on the city within just as the towers along the outer wall kept watch on the farmland and forests without. One couldn¡¯t leave the city without passing through the clean, well-lit streets of the officer¡¯s quarters. To reach The Hive¡ªan enclave built into the outer wall¡ªthey had to walk those streets. There were no dark back alleys, no secret passages. ¡°How?¡± she asked. ¡°We¡¯ll be caught.¡± ¡°The guards travel in pairs, this far from the main gate, and nobody comes this way who doesn¡¯t belong. Especially not after curfew¡± ¡°But there¡¯s still guards.¡± ¡°I can handle two guards at a time. We just need to get past the main road.¡± She wanted to argue, but his eyes flicked to her and her mouth fell shut. They waited in silence. Nick began to stir, just as movement caught Mara¡¯s eye, two shadows stretching across the cobblestones, bobbing as they lengthened. Her heart squeezed and stuttered, but Eli ducked his head and whispered something in her son¡¯s ear and the boy subsided back into heavy sleep, hands curled into loose fists. Odd, her brain insisted, but the thought went to tatters before she could grasp it, floating away like a dream. Their hiding spot was too far back from the road, too masked in shadow for the guards to make them out, but she still felt exposed as the duo meandered into sight. They wore uniforms not unlike Eli¡¯s¡ªriding trousers, loose shirts, leather breastplates stamped with the Order¡¯s stylistic torch. Their uniforms were crimson, though, designating their role as city guards. Eli and Davy wore brown, their jurisdiction beyond the wall rather than within it. The guards on the wall, she knew, wore gray, training officers green, and palace guards white. Everything in its place. Everything neat, distinct, orderly. Disorder begat chaos and chaos begat evil. So claimed the Order. The crimson-clad guards passed out of view, and a few heartbeats later Eli stood. ¡°Stay close,¡± he whispered, and she nodded. They crept to the edge of the light and hesitated there for a breath, listening, sensing. Then, without ceremony, Eli stepped out onto the street and Mara followed. Immediately, a sense of nakedness came over her and her muscles threatened to seize. She squinted against the light, her steps fumbling as she hurried in Eli¡¯s wake. They were so exposed, whitewashed walls looming over them. A powerful, animal urge came over her, to snatch Nick from Eli¡¯s arms and run back into the safety of the slums. She could build a decent life for them there. She had valuable skills. She could help people. The curb on the far side of the street rose up and tripped her, and she¡¯d have fallen if not for Eli¡¯s hand gripping the strap of her rucksack. ¡°Stay sharp,¡± he whispered, and her mind immediately turned outward, senses peeled. Suspicion pricked at the back of her mind, but just as quickly as it rose she dismissed it. Eli didn¡¯t have persuasive magic. He was just a healer, and a weak one at that. This strange effect he had on her tonight was a product of her own shock, not of magic. Or was that belief itself a result of persuasion? She couldn¡¯t parse through the mystery with so much of her mind sorting through outside stimuli. The pale yellow lamplight glancing off white-washed brick walls. The deafening shuffle of their footsteps in the expansive, polished silence, so different from the suffocating quiet of Paradise Hill. A townhouse loomed over them to the right, CAPT | WEST 1 stamped into a gilt plaque above the call bell. The house to their left, across the narrow street, bore a similar designation, this one stamped in silver. LIEUT | 1 WEST 2. Maria¡¯s own home had a similar plaque, albeit smaller and made of copper. SERG | A 3 1 NORTH 2. Eli stopped so suddenly she ran into him, her ears already capturing what he must have heard. Footsteps. Just around the corner ahead of them. They¡¯d come too far to turn back to the darkness of the slum, and there was nowhere to hide. The homes were separated not by alleys but by thick stone walls, each block an unbroken square of houses arranged around a courtyard. By design, there were no safe nooks, no dark crannies, no back doors. There was no hiding so close to the wall. With no good decision to make, Mara was surprised at how distinctly awful Eli¡¯s managed to be. After a split second of hesitation, he began walking forward, as if unbothered by their pending discovery. And, as if drawn by a leash, she followed. Two gray-clad officers rounded the corner and slammed to a halt. They were roughly the same height, the same build, even their hair was the same dusty blond and cut the same way, close at the sides and longer on top. Only age and rank distinguished them. The one on the left was older, two stars glinting on his right lapel. The other¡¯s sleeve bore two parallel lines. A lieutenant and a novice, probably returning from a night shift on the wall. Order officers weren¡¯t permitted to wed or move about unaccompanied at night until they achieved true rank. Davy had married her one month after his promotion to sergeant. ¡°State your mission,¡± the lieutenant commanded, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. ¡°Widow escort, sir,¡± Eli answered without pause. A core of truth to every lie. Tenant Three of the rebels¡¯ code. ¡°You heard about the skirmish.¡± ¡°Aye,¡± the novice answered eagerly. ¡°Out Loftland gate. Awful.¡± The lieutenant wasn¡¯t quite so easily mollified. ¡°They have Spec Healers running escort over there at North?¡± ¡°Not usually, no.¡± Eli reached back and clasped Mara¡¯s hand, drawing her even with him. ¡°Special circumstances, sir. The deceased was an old friend.¡± For a moment, a fragile, hopeful moment, Mara thought they were safe. The lieutenant¡¯s gaze passed over her face, a brief twist of sympathy in his expression as his posture eased, hand relaxing on the pommel of his sword. He drew a breath, and she felt the words forming on his tongue. ¡°Carry on, then. Sympathies, ma¡¯am.¡± Then he froze, eyes growing sharp. Somehow, without any actual, perceptible movements, Eli edged in front of her. His grip on her hand flexed in warning. ¡°Where¡¯s the widow headed, then?¡± the lieutenant asked. ¡°The Citadel.¡± The lieutenant glanced pointed to his right¨CMara and Eli¡¯s left. Left of the direction they traveled. ¡°Heading the wrong way for the Citadel aren¡¯t you?¡± Eli shrugged as best he could with one arm still occupied with Nick and the other hand tight on Mara¡¯s. ¡°There¡¯s faster ways, sir, but she was already shaken by the news and the Ring Route¡¯s safest by far.¡± Again, not exactly a lie. The Ring Route¨Cthis narrow band of Order billeting that encircled the city just within the wall¨Cwas the safest route. If, of course, one was on currently on the run from Order officers. The lieutenant turned his attention to Mara, and she tried to look her part, tucking herself a little closer to Eli¡¯s side. She didn¡¯t have to dig deep for the fear she plastered deliberately over her expression. Though it had managed to escape her all night, sandwiched as she was between her confused grief and this unshakable, paradoxical calm, she had every reason to be more than frightened. She ought to be terrified. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. If the Order truly suspected Davy for a rebel, then they would come for her next. She¡¯d be taken to interrogation, where the blood oath she¡¯d sworn when she married Davy would spread its tendrils to her mind the moment they questioned her and erase every trace of their lives together from her brain. She¡¯d be dead within days, tortured to her end over information she was no longer capable of giving. Mara tucked herself yet closer to Eli as the lieutenant took a casual step to the right, the novice to the left. ¡°Well, you¡¯re right about that, specialist,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°But the incident out Loftland way was a North 2 unit, no? Your widow, there, should be quartered on the other side of town with the other North 2 families. Surely there were quicker routes than the one you¡¯re on here.¡± The problem with basing one¡¯s lies on a strong core of truth was that the further one got from that truth the flimsier the structure became. ¡°She was visiting a friend, sir. She didn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re looking a little rough, specialist. The ferals must have put up quite the fight.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Quite the fight.¡± The lieutenant exchanged a look with the novice. Tension coiled between Mara¡¯s shoulders as both men adjusted their posture, the movement subtle but distinct, preparing for battle. ¡°Report from Loftland gate claims no survivors from that skirmish.¡± Eli¡¯s hand tensed on hers again, an unintentional spasm this time. The lieutenant took a step forward. ¡°Tell you what, specialist. I¡¯ll wrap up the escort for you, shall I?¡± Mara had been in the dark since the moment Eli knocked on her door, but she knew one thing for certain. If she went with the lieutenant, she wouldn¡¯t be escorted to the Citadel for her widow¡¯s due. She would be escorted to a dungeon. She knew. To the Depths, she knew. Before she could react¡ªscream, run, fight¡ªNick¡¯s warm body was transferred to her keeping and her arms wrapped instinctively around him. ¡°You know the way,¡± Eli said. She did. She¡¯d lived in this city her whole life, and the Hive was no obscure little hidey-hole. She didn¡¯t know exactly where she was, but she knew enough to find her way to a landmark so unmissable. ¡°Yes,¡± she answered. ¡°Stay behind me. If this goes south, you run.¡± The novice laughed. Even the lieutenant cracked a grin. Healers were trained alongside other Order officers up to the level of novice, but received no further training outside their field and weren¡¯t generally known for their fighting acumen. It was why they never promoted past the rank of specialist, their skills deemed ancillary to the Order¡¯s mission, their opinions unnecessary at the decision-making level. Mara didn¡¯t share their amusement, but she did share their incredulity. Eli couldn¡¯t possibly be planning to fight these two. The lieutenant no doubt had more skill, the novice more youthful strength. ¡°Eli¡ª¡± ¡°Stay behind me, Mara.¡± The lieutenant gave a nod as he stepped wide into the street and the novice advanced up the sidewalk, twin rings accompanying the flash of polished steel as they pulled their swords. Mara stepped back. Eli stepped forward, dagger suddenly in his hand. He didn¡¯t carry a sword. Healers never carried swords. ¡°Eli¡ª¡± She blinked and the novice leapt forward. Blinked again and the lieutenant darted in from the side. Stumbled backward, blinked again, and the novice was on the ground, sword clattering to the stones beside him. Blinked again and the lieutenant dropped to his knees, clutching his belly. She blinked. Blinked. Breathed. The air smelled metallic. Rusty. Her son hadn¡¯t even twitched. Her arms ached. When had Nick gotten so big? The novice gurgled, blood bubbling from a narrow slice in his throat. His bloody hands clasped at the wound and pink froth spilled from his mouth. The lieutenant groaned and collapsed onto his side, clutching a wrist so badly broken his hand danged backwards, fingers spasming. Eli stepped forward, kicked his sword away, and tipped him onto his back with a boot on his shoulder. Then he knelt, one knee pressed to the man¡¯s chest, and gripped his chin. ¡°Stay awake.¡± His words were born on effortless command, no edge of question to them. No doubt they¡¯d be obeyed. The lieutenant¡¯s sagging eyelids lifted. ¡°The widow Swift died in the fire,¡± Eli said, and Mara blinked, confused. She hadn¡¯t died, and she didn¡¯t remember a fire. Although¡­. Driven by curiosity, she turned her back on the scene before her, looking the way they¡¯d come. It was hard to make out, bright as the lights were here, dark as the sky was beyond. But there. Over the formless lump of Paradise Hill, a small spiral of smoke rose against the gray sky of the rising dawn. She knew. To the Depths, she knew. Her home was gone. She turned back as the lieutenant dipped his chin in a shallow nod. ¡°Tell me what happened,¡± Eli said, and his victim¡¯s eyes glazed. ¡°The widow Swift died in the fire,¡± he mumbled. ¡°Who did you see here tonight?¡± ¡°Only you,¡± the man gasped. ¡°What happened to the widow Swift?¡± ¡°Died,¡± the man breathed, eyelids flickering, ¡°in the fire.¡± ¡°Who did you see here tonight?¡± Mara took a step back, realization dawning slow but strong. Eli doesn¡¯t have persuasive magic. She¡¯d have known. Davy would have told her. Unless Davy had been persuaded not to. ¡°Only you,¡± the lieutenant whispered. ¡°What happened to the widow Swift?¡± ¡°She died in the fire.¡± ¡°Good. Go to sleep now, sir. You must be exhausted.¡± As if his strings had been cut, the lieutenant¡¯s body went suddenly, completely limp. As if her own strings had been yanked, Mara¡¯s body went suddenly, completely taut. Nick¡¯s unnatural deep sleep. Her own unnatural calm. The way her limbs had seemed to move without her command every time she¡¯d hesitated to follow along with Eli¡¯s plan. Not shock. Magic. This man¨Cthis liar¨Chad dragged her around all night like a puppet, and she had just let him. She¡¯d let him carry her son! He¡¯d burned her house down! Was anything true? Was Davy really dead, or was this just some Order ploy? But then why fight the Order officer? She hugged Nick¡¯s limp body tighter to her chest. What had he done to her son? As if sensing the sudden surge of her emotions, Eli shot to his feet and spun. ¡°Mara,¡± he said softly, holding out a bloody hand, dagger still clasped in the other. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. But we don¡¯t have time.¡± ¡°You¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He truly looked it too, haggard face twisting with regret even as his eyes sharpened, capturing hers before she could think to look away. ¡°Stay calm, Mara. Trust me.¡± She tried to fight the calm, but she had no defenses, no shields. Davy¡¯s shields were meant to protect her from persuasion, but Eli¡¯s slid through them like water through cheesecloth. Of course she trusted him. He was Davy¡¯s friend, a trusted fellow rebel. And he¡¯d just saved her from two Order officers. Whatever secrets he kept, he kept them for the sake of the rebellion. Her shoulders relaxed as calm oozed from the crown of her head, dripping like warm honey down the back of her neck, stroking the column of her spine. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± The novice gurgled faintly as they passed him, but his hands had fallen to the side, a broad puddle of blood spreading out around his head like a halo. He¡¯d be dead before help reached him. Eli moved quickly, but Mara didn¡¯t struggle to keep up, her blood humming in her veins, her body hot, limbs loose. Even with Nick in her arms, she kept pace, dogging Eli¡¯s heels as they darted first left, then right, then left again, passing rows of identical white brick buildings. They were one block from the wall. She sensed it, though she couldn¡¯t see it, some invisible map in her brain sketching the looming stone monstrosity just over the roof of the townhouse to her right. ¡°Last stretch,¡± Eli said as they approached another intersection. ¡°When we turn, heads down and make for the gates. Give me Nick.¡± Her arms extended, and rather than cradle her son in his arms as he had all night, Eli draped him over a shoulder. ¡°When we turn, heads down,¡± he said, this time holding her gaze. ¡°When we turn, heads down,¡± she echoed. They reached the corner and turned right, and the doors to the Hive loomed solid, blinding white against the dark granite of the wall. She could just make out the bubble of the domed roof beyond. The Hive protruded like a glistening tumor from the eastern portion of the wall, an apt symbol of its relationship with the Order. The Keepers of Truth were outside the law but inextricably bound to the city those laws governed. The gates to the Hive cracked open in greeting just as a shout echoed from high up to the right. Mara ducked her head as she¡¯d been instructed. Twin watchtowers bookended the Keepers¡¯ sanctuary. The Order might not be able to control what happened within the marble walls, but it could monitor who passed through the doors. It couldn¡¯t assault the Hive, and rarely assaulted those who dared approach it¨Cbut there was always the possibility. One those watchtowers forbade anyone from forgetting. A voice called down from the watchtower to the right, the words indistinguishable, the tone unmistakable. A warning. ¡°Faster,¡± Eli murmured, unslinging Nick from his shoulder. Head ducked, the nape of her neck tingling, Mara strode faster across the exposed area. ¡°Mara, run.¡± She stumbled into a run just as the first arrow shattered against the stones ahead of them. The Order never assaulted those who approached the Hive. Technically they could, but they never did. Another arrow exploded into splinters just ahead of her, and she didn¡¯t need Eli¡¯s prompting to run harder, arms pumping, boots pounding against the cobblestones. She raised her face to see the gates, the gap between them just wide enough for a single person to pass through. They were so close. Twenty strides. Fifteen. Fire. Cold fire, like the white-hot bolts that carried thunder down from storm clouds, raced down her arm, up her neck, the epicenter of the pain just above her left breast. She cried out. Stumbled. Before she could hit the ground, something yanked at her pack, drawing the straps tight. Another shock of pain flashed through her and her vision went white. She heard herself cry out, hoarse and pained, but couldn¡¯t feel the sound leave her throat. She was numb. Numb but for the pain. Her feet left the ground as one, some divine force lifting her, thrusting her forward through the gap in the white doors. She flew for a heartbeat, glided through air, and then her feet caught on something¡ªthe ground¡ªand she fell into red-tinged darkness. (4) Ten Minutes or So Mara woke to warmth and flickering light. She smiled and stretched, reaching for Davy. Something in her left shoulder pulled like a sore muscle, and she winced. ¡°It¡¯s best not to move.¡± Groggily, she peeled open her eyes. That wasn¡¯t Davy¡¯s voice. ¡°Eli?¡± she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes with her right hand. The lids felt glued together, her head filled with damp cotton. ¡°You¡¯re safe.¡± Well, of course she was safe. She was warm in her bed. ¡°Where¡¯s Davy?¡± she asked. Maybe she¡¯d been sick. Last time she woke to Eli¡¯s voice instead of Davy¡¯s it was after she¡¯d given birth to Nick. But Davy had been right there too, swiping at her brow with a cold cloth. ¡°Was I sick?¡± ¡°No. You were hurt. Try to remember, Mara.¡± She didn¡¯t want to remember, though she didn¡¯t quite know why, only that it felt like he was telling her to slip into an ice bath or swallow some bitter tonic. ¡°No,¡± she breathed, rolling over so her back was to him, but her stubborn mind was already spinning, slowly but gaining speed. She curled into a fetal position, clutching the blankets around her as the trickle of memories¨Cthe knock on the door, packing her bag¨Ccascaded into a deluge of darkness and fire and blood. ¡°No.¡± Davy was dead. Her house was gone. Her life as she knew it was over. ¡°No, no, no,¡± she wept into the pillow, the fine, soft fabric quickly turning warm and scratchy-damp with tears. No rush of calm came to claim her, no unnatural focus. Only the emptiness. She knew. To the Depths, she knew now, as she hadn¡¯t before. He was gone. She could sense it as well as she could sense the pain in her shoulder, the ache in her feet. Her mind rejected the notion, but her soul felt his absence as keenly as she felt the sheets against her skin. She curled up tighter, her entire body shaking as she wept in heaving, silent screams. He was gone. Grief tumbled her about for several long, dreadful minutes before dropping, bruised and breathless and aching back into the soft, warm bed. Breathing in staggered hiccups, she shifted onto her back, cracking scratchy eyelids to take in a plain ceiling, crossbeams spaced out against a backdrop of wooden slats. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Mara.¡± Eli¡¯s voice again. She rolled her head limply on the pillow and found him in a chair at her side. Nick was cradled sideways in his lap, still sleeping, and at the sight of her son, a new cold splash of memories smacked her in the face. Eerie calm. Unnatural sleep. Persuasive magic. Fear gave her strength, purpose, and she struggled up to sit against the headboard. ¡°What are you doing to him?¡± Eli winced and shifted Nick¡¯s weight. ¡°Nothing that will harm him. Just keeping him asleep until you¡¯re feeling better.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know that it won¡¯t harm him,¡± she snapped. ¡°There are no recorded, conclusive studies on the repercussions of persuasive magic on the developing mind. You had no right. You have no right.¡± Tears of agonized terror leapt into her eyes, and she ignored the pain in her shoulder as she reached for her son. ¡°Give him to me. Wake him up.¡± Eli¡¯s face bore no expression, eyes scanning her own. She remembered too late to avert her gaze, but he didn¡¯t exert any influence on her. Not that she could feel. ¡°Alright,¡± he finally said, standing and setting Nick carefully on the mattress at her side before resuming his seat. ¡°He¡¯ll come around naturally. We have ten minutes or so.¡± ¡°Ten minutes or so for what?¡± ¡°For whatever questions you have that I can¡¯t answer in his presence.¡± She calmed slightly, just having Nick beside her, and she knew there was no magic involved because her calm didn¡¯t mean she trusted Eli in the slightest. It was merely an acknowledgment that there was nowhere for her to run just now, and he didn¡¯t seem to have any interest in doing her immediate harm. Ignoring him for the first few seconds of their ten minutes, she looked around at the room. It was small, plain, the mattress beneath her soft but narrow. A potbelly stove squatted in the far right corner, but otherwise there were no furnishings. Just her bed, the stove, and the chair Eli sat in. No windows, either, but that at least was unsurprising. The Hive was known for its lack of windows, the mystical opacity of its inner workings. ¡°Where are we?¡± ¡°The Hive. The tenth floor, specifically. They closed the gates after we passed through. We¡¯re safe until tomorrow morning.¡± ¡°And why should I believe a Depthsbound word that comes out of your mouth?¡± His expression didn¡¯t change, despite the acid she¡¯d poured into every word. ¡°If I was in your place, I wouldn¡¯t. But you can ask whatever questions you have, and I¡¯ll answer them as honestly as I¡¯m able. When I take you to Beth, you can ask her as well, verify whichever of my answers inspire doubt.¡± ¡°And why should I trust Beth?¡± ¡°Beth is an ordained Keeper of Truth.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re an oathbound Order officer. People aren¡¯t always what they say.¡± To her utter shock, the bitter words found a mark. His face fell, hard lines of apathy giving way to intense weariness. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. He spoke to the floorboards between his feet. ¡°I understand your distrust. Using persuasion on you was a violation. I should not have done so, and I¡¯m not fool enough to ask for your forgiveness or your trust. But whether you trust me nor not, the Order is coming for both of us. If we work together, we stand a chance of survival. If we don¡¯t¡­¡± He trailed off, not in a deliberate threat but in genuine thought, if the lines bracketing his mouth were any indication. ¡°I will try to earn back your trust,¡± he finally said, looking up and meeting her eye just long enough to convey his sincerity before dropping his gaze back to the floor. ¡°I would ask that you give me the opportunity to do so.¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Mara gnawed on the inside of her lip. She didn¡¯t trust him. If she felt any way about him at this point, it was loathing. But what were her options? She and Nick were no longer safe in the city, and though his methods were dubious, Eli had gotten them this far. Farther than she¡¯d have made it on her own. She didn¡¯t even know where she ought to go next, let alone how to get there. What were her options? Limited. ¡°Is Davy really dead?¡± A wasted question. She already knew. But if she was going to extend a tender shoot of trust, she¡¯d damn sure give it thorns. Eli winced, visibly, but nodded and reached into the pocket of his shirt. Unconsciously, she reached out and he dropped what he held in her hand. A miniscule weight. She already knew, but she opened her fist and stared at the plain gold band resting on her palm. It was too big. It would slip off even her thumb if she tried to wear it. She used to lay in bed and press her hand to Davy¡¯s, marveling at the way his fingers dwarfed hers. She was hardly a tiny woman, and she worked with her hands, her fingers knobby and thick with use, the skin marred with scars and calluses. But still, against his hand, her own appeared dainty. Safe. She closed her fist around the ring. ¡°I¡¯ll find you a chain,¡± Eli said quietly. ¡°How did he die?¡± ¡°According to official record? A Feral attack.¡± ¡°And according to you?¡± ¡°The Ferals did attack, but they didn¡¯t kill Davy. The hit was too precise.¡± ¡°It could have been a coincidence.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No. Ferals attack from the ground and their range weapons are crude. I know the arc of their arrows. The shot that¨C¡± he broke off, swallowing hard and lowering his gaze to his clasped hands, pulling in a deep breath before continuing. ¡°The shot that killed Davy came from above. The arc was clean. No variance.¡± Another deep breath and when he looked up at her, his expression was pained. Sorrowful. ¡°The arrow took him clean through the heart. I didn¡¯t even have time to try to heal him.¡± Mara¡¯s hollow chest contracted painfully around the knowledge, but there was some solace in it as well. ¡°It was quick?¡± she whispered. Eli nodded wordlessly, knuckles white as he clenched his hands tighter around each other. Mara nodded as well, to herself, comforted if only slightly. ¡°So¡­¡± She cleared her throat. ¡°Where are we going, then?¡± Eli expelled a shaky gust of relief. ¡°I¡¯ll take you to Elise and Rorick. If that¡¯s what you want.¡± Davy¡¯s parents, Mara knew, ruled the rebellion from some hidden enclave, though he¡¯d never told her where the enclave was. For her safety, he always said. ¡°Where?¡± He closed his eyes, pulled in a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and forced the answer through his teeth. ¡°The Ripshaws.¡± She gaped. The Ripshaw mountain range and the forest at its base were a known breeding ground for dark, chaotic magic. Monsters. Even the Order didn¡¯t venture there. And monsters aside, the Ripshaws formed the northern boundary of the Domain, weeks¡¯ travel from the city by the most direct route, and she doubted they¡¯d be taking the most direct route. ¡°It¡¯ll be a long journey,¡± Eli said, having opened his eyes and apparently read her expression. ¡°But I¡¯ll see you there safely, if you let me.¡± They sat in silence for a moment as she rubbed her hand gently up and down Nick¡¯s back, taking comfort in offering comfort. Her next question came to her as she studied her son¡¯s sleeping face. ¡°You have persuasive magic.¡± Not a question, per se, but he treated it as such. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Did Davy know?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t he tell me?¡± ¡°He was bound by oath. Blood oath,¡± he said, before she could leap in and remind him that Davy¡¯s marital oath was meant to supersede all others. ¡°The information was need-to-know.¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t his shields protect me?¡± He bowed his head, a portrait of shame painted in earth tones and blood. ¡°I am sorry, Mara. Deeply sorry. But that¡¯s not something I can explain.¡± She glared at the crown of his head, noting that though his hands were scrubbed clean, the strands of his hair had clumped together, matted by blood. Hers now, as well as Davy¡¯s. And with that realization came its more alarming twin¨Cher clothes weren¡¯t bloody at all. They also weren¡¯t hers. Alarm tore through her as she shuffled her legs beneath the blankets¨Cthe sensation of soft sheets against bare skin a discordant pleasure. Nick stirred but subsided when she stroked his hair. ¡°Who changed my clothes?¡± she whispered, hugging her son against her chest and closing her eyes against the curdled mixture of wrath and shame that rose up in her throat. ¡°One of the Caretakers.¡± A Caretaker. One of the Keepers¡¯ minders, who made sure they never got too lost in their visions to look after themselves. More importantly¨CNot Eli. The breath she¡¯d been holding burst out of her on a gust of relief, leaving behind a vacuum into which more questions rushed. ¡°What happened at the gate?¡± ¡°You were shot.¡± ¡°How long was I out?¡± ¡°About three hours.¡± ¡°It felt bad.¡± Worse than three hours¡¯ worth of rest would fix. And yet, she was fine. A little achy, but fine. ¡°It was bad.¡± ¡°Who healed me?¡± Whoever it was, she owed them her gratitude. ¡°I did,¡± he said. ¡°Somewhat. I stopped the bleeding, cleaned out the debris, and closed the wound. You¡¯re no longer in immediate danger, but I wouldn¡¯t call you healed. One, maybe two more sessions and you¡¯ll be able to move it without pain.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re a level two.¡± A level two healer couldn¡¯t have done so much at all, let alone in three hours. At that, he smiled, though the expression held more pain than amusement. ¡°Oaths of secrecy aside, you really thought they¡¯d have sent Davy into the Order¡¯s maw with just a level two healer to watch over him?¡± She hadn¡¯t thought about it, really. Never even considered that Eli might have a true role, let alone that his role might be to watch over Davy. He was so¡­ plain. So unremarkable in the shadow of Davy¡¯s immense power. She¡¯d rarely had occasion to think of him at all, and when she had she¡¯d imagined that he was simply tagging along in Davy¡¯s wake, loyal but inconsequential. Or had that all been an act of persuasion itself? An illusion, turning her eyes away from what was right in front of her? An illusion her husband had condoned, perpetuated? ¡°Perhaps not,¡± she mumbled, fiddling with the down comforter. ¡°Why are we here? Why the Hive?¡± ¡°That¡¯s tougher to explain.¡± ¡°Try.¡± His face screwed up and he rocked his head from side to side on his neck as if trying to dispel tension. ¡°The Keepers of Truth are outside the Order¡¯s dominion,¡± he began. ¡°I know that. But they¡¯re allowed to stay that way because they don¡¯t choose sides. They never have, not in a thousand years.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°But you knew they¡¯d offer us sanctuary.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And, I can only assume, safe passage out of the city.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°How could that be if they¡¯re truly neutral? How could you have known they¡¯d help us?¡± ¡°They¡¯re bound by their neutrality to open the gates at dawn each day and to admit entrance to anyone who approaches.¡± ¡°They¡¯re bound to open the gates, not to help whoever comes through,¡± Mara prodded, frustration growing. ¡°I¡¯m not asking why they let us in, I¡¯m asking how you knew they would help us. We¡¯re rebels. Our mission is inherently one-sided. To help us is to pick a side.¡± Eli¡¯s brow furrowed and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. ¡°Not necessarily.¡± ¡°We¡¯re rebels, Eli.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°To help us is to help the rebellion.¡± Eli pulled in a deep breath and let it out long, slow, and steady. ¡°Not necessarily.¡± ¡°I¡­ what?¡± Before he could answer, Nick stirred and mumbled his way into a sprawling, spine-bending, yawning stretch. She knew from experience, there would be no more rest after that stretch. Eli stood and dragged his chair to the wall, freeing up what little floor space the room offered. ¡°Your bag and clothing are by the foot of the bed. I¡¯ll wait outside.¡± ¡°Then what?¡± ¡°Then,¡± he said with a weary smile, ¡°I¡¯ll take you to meet Beth.¡± (5) Borrowed Time Her clothes, somehow, were clean and dry, and the small hole in the shoulder where the arrow had struck her had been patched. ¡°The mystical voices of fate are expedient laundresses,¡± Mara muttered to herself as she dressed, watching as Nick yawned and stretched himself into the land of the living. She¡¯d be worried this slow waking was an effect of Eli¡¯s magic if this wasn¡¯t how her son woke up every morning. He took after her in that regard. Davy was a morning person, quick to wake, chipper and clear-eyed. Mara¡¯s mind was slower to warm up, and though she and Davy usually woke together, she¡¯d often spend long minutes blinking, stretching, and breathing her way into wakefulness while he sprang up like he¡¯d been catapulted from the bed, ready to go about his morning. Tears pricked her eyes, and she used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe them away. It would be best, she decided, not to think of Davy for the foreseeable future. Not until she and Nick were safe. ¡°Mama?¡± Nick¡¯s voice was groggy as he pulled himself into a sitting position amidst the rumpled sheets. ¡°Right here, baby,¡± she said, setting aside her boots and joining him on the bed. He slumped into her chest, rubbing his eyes, and she squeezed him to her, pressing her nose to the crown of his head. He smelled a little like damp wool, his hair matted on top from wearing that cap all night long. But he also smelled like her baby, sweet and clean. ¡°Where?¡± he asked, turning his face sideways against her chest so he could peer with one eye at the unfamiliar room. The single word made her wince. Nick wasn¡¯t much of a talker. He¡¯d been slow even with his first words, but Davy swore he had been as well. ¡°Didn¡¯t make a peep until I was three, and then full sentences,¡± he¡¯d proclaimed proudly. More tears, blurring her vision and the mental image of her husband¡¯s cocky grin, the gentle love in his eyes as he soothed her fears. Curse it. She wiped her eyes again, surreptitiously. ¡°We¡¯re visiting friends, my love,¡± she crooned, cradling Nick to her and rocking from side to side the way he liked. He sank a little heavier against her. ¡°Dada?¡± To her surprise, no tears came in response to his question. Instead, a sickly pressure built inside her head, pressing outward. How could she explain to a child so young when death was too complex for most adults to confront? How could she explain to her son that his father was dead when she herself had to turn her face from it just to cope? Tell the truth, urged a voice in the back of her mind. It will be hard, but tell the truth. ¡°Dada¡¯s not here,¡± she said, the rest of the words congealing in her throat. She swallowed hard, cleared her throat, but the truth refused to break free. So instead she told a lie she knew, she knew, would haunt her. ¡°He¡¯ll meet us where we¡¯re going.¡± Nick¡¯s little shoulders twitched in a shrug of mild acceptance. Davy was often away for days and weeks at a time. As long as Nick had Mara, little was amiss in his world. Did she prefer that, she wondered? Was it more painful to imagine him missing his father, or to imagine that he wouldn¡¯t? Mara knew she didn¡¯t have time for all this maudlin rumination. They were on borrowed time. The gates to the Hive only opened at dawn, but they opened without fail. Whatever help the Keepers were to offer, the quicker she went about acquiring it the better. Already, they had less than a day before Order officers no doubt took advantage of the dawn clause and came looking. Nonetheless, she took a moment to simply sit with her son in her arms, rocking gently and telling herself the same lie she¡¯d just told Nick. He¡¯ll meet us where we¡¯re going. Not a lie, really, when she thought about it. Davy had gone somewhere¡ªsomewhere they were all headed sooner or later. He¡¯d wait for her, she was sure, for however long it took her to catch up. And together, they would wait for Nick and pray that he took his time in getting there. That he¡¯d show up with his own love on his arm, his own children for whom to tarry at the gates. ¡°Alright, my love,¡± she said, stemming the fresh flood of tears with a dam of false cheer. ¡°Let¡¯s go find you something to eat.¡± ~~~ Eli sat on his pack¡ªDavy¡¯s pack¡ªagainst the wall by her door, but he stood when she emerged into the hall. ¡°You can leave your things,¡± he said, gesturing to the pack she¡¯d slung over her uninjured shoulder. ¡°I¡¯d rather not.¡± The contents of her bag were all that remained of her home. Aside from Nick, of course, who stood at her side, clinging to her pant leg. Eli didn¡¯t argue, but he did grab his own pack and tuck it into the room she¡¯d just left, pulling the door shut. ¡°Nick needs something to eat,¡± she said as her son wrapped her pants tighter in his fists and leaned against her knee. ¡°As do you,¡± Eli said before crouching in front of Nick. ¡°Would you like a ride to breakfast, Nick?¡± Nick studied him, eyes still a little sleepy, and then nodded and released Mara, raising his arms in silent command. Suspecting more persuasive magic, Mara shot an accusing glance at Eli, but he shook his head in silent denial. Did she really believe him? Could she afford to question him? She didn¡¯t even know who he was. Davy never told her anything about him, except that he was a friend. A fellow rebel. ¡°How¡¯s your shoulder?¡± Eli asked her, jolting her from her mental tangent as he hefted Nick onto his hip and led them off down the hall. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she lied. In truth, it ached and pulled and she felt vaguely sick, her head light. But if she told him that he¡¯d offer to help, and she didn¡¯t want him or his magic anywhere near her. His holding Nick was an affront she only tolerated because she was afraid to offend him by yanking her son bodily from his arms. She turned her attention to their surroundings, the hallway as unremarkable as her room. White plaster walls and plain wooden floors. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest,¡± she said, aiming for casual conversation. That seemed a safer option than challenging his loyalty or revisiting her ire over his use of persuasive magic. ¡°I expected more opulence of the Hive.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Eli smiled, turning them left down another identical hallway, doors spaced haphazardly along each wall. ¡°The Keepers¡¯ magic is genuine, but their earthly power isn¡¯t,¡± he explained, his tone contemplative. ¡°They have no fighting force, no material bargaining capacity. Mysticism and enigma are their sole defense. Every regime that rises understands that to violate their sovereignty might drive them out of their neutrality. And to do so would be to lose all power.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain all the marble,¡± Mara said, a little cross with him for explaining to her something she already knew. ¡°Or the lack of marble once you get inside.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t it? Their power is genuine, but it¡¯s easy to forget that considering how stingy they are with their services. Anyone can enter, but most queries walk out more confused than they were when they entered. The marble, the ritual of the Dawn Clause, the windowless walls¡­ it¡¯s meant to remind us all what we might otherwise forget if they lived more humbly¨Cthat the Keepers own the future, and only they can tell us what it holds.¡± ¡°But they do live humbly,¡± Mara said. She¡¯d been watching the doors as they passed, reading the little placards nailed to the side of each entrance. Dee. Paula. Lon. Ren. Willa. Kris. ¡°These look like living quarters.¡± ¡°They are. And some do live humbly. Not all. Beth¡¯s quarters are small, but they¡¯re more in line with what you might have imagined.¡± Amusement touched the edges of his tone. ¡°Speaking of which, we have some stairs to climb. I can take your bag if your shoulder¨C¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she bit out, hiking the strap up higher on her good shoulder as the hallway opened up into what must be the central hall. The hardwood flooring beneath their boots gave way to smooth marble, and the air exchanged clean mustiness for the vague, befuddling scent of fresh water. The surface they stood on appeared to be the landing of a massive staircase. To the left, the stairs to the next level ascended, carpeted with emerald green velvet, the steps as wide as Mara¡¯s living room. To the right, the descending flight. The rest of the landing was fashioned like a balcony, and curiosity drew Mara to the balustrade. Looking down made her dizzy. She counted the flights of stairs and judged them to be on the fifteenth floor, at least. Far below, figures roved about a round hall paved with marble tiles of alternating pale gray and stark white, so distant Mara couldn¡¯t make out their faces. Some appeared to be passing through on their way to somewhere else, but others sat at tables or lounged in armchairs. Most of the seating was scattered about a fountain set into the center of the floor, the tumbling water a distant, lyrical crash that echoed about the vaulted space. The landing on which they stood extended around the circumference of the wall, and similar balconies lined each level like striations in rock, the walls beyond dotted with entrances to hallways like the one they¡¯d just left. The effect was striking. Airy. Bright. Grasping the railing, Mara leaned out and looked up. There were several more stories above them, each a little smaller than the one before as the ceiling domed. The very top of the dome was translucent¡ªa massive window, crisscrossed with a latticework of metal support beams. ¡°I was wondering how they didn¡¯t go mad in here without sunlight,¡± she said. Eli hummed his agreement. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡± ¡°It is. Shall we?¡± He gestured toward the staircase and Mara swallowed, wishing she¡¯d been blessed with just a touch less pride so she could hand over her pack. ¡°Sure.¡± They climbed two flights of stairs before Eli held out a hand and she surrendered her bag, breathless and sweaty. ¡°Blood loss,¡± he said simply. ¡°Sure,¡± she grumbled, nonetheless relieved. Eli led her up four more flights of stairs, his steps slower¡ªbecause of the pack she told herself, not because he had to wait for her¡ªand into a new hallway. Though nothing of the Hive was what she had imagined, this hall was somewhat more the style she¡¯d expect. The walls were papered a deep, shiny crimson, and a decorative golden handrail lined the walkway. The doors to each residence were thicker, gold-plated knockers beneath the nameplates, candles in gold sconces beside each door. Halfway down the hall, Eli stopped before a door marked Beth. Without pause, he raised his hand and lifted the knocker, tapping it twice against the baseplate. Mara started when the door swung immediately open. ¡°Mara Swift,¡± the woman exclaimed, standing back in a swish of red silk and bracing her hands on her hips. She was a tiny thing, the nest of golden-blond curls bound atop her head barely reaching Mara¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting to meet you for ages!¡± ¡°You¡­ have?¡± ¡°Come in, sweetheart. Come in. You¡¯ve got questions and I¡¯ve got answers. I¡¯m Beth, by the way.¡± Mara didn¡¯t know how she felt about being called sweetheart by a slip of a girl who didn¡¯t look old enough to buy ale at the pubs in city market, but she followed as Beth stepped back and beckoned them into her chambers. The doorway entered into a small kitchenette, little more than a stove and a counter with a small inset sink, the handle of the pump intricately carved and silver-plated. A small table for two sat against the near wall, but they were led past it, through a narrow doorway into a lavish if cluttered sitting room. A low table sat before a plump, velvet-upholstered chaise, its surface cluttered with food, a steaming pot of tea nestled amidst the miniature feast. Eli set Nick down and, mannerless little heathen that he was, her son ran straight to the table and began nibbling on a small cube of cheese. ¡°Nick!¡± Mara said, darting forward to snatch him up, but Beth laughed and held up a hand to stay her. ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± she insisted, walking over to where Nick stood by the table and ruffling his dark hair. He grinned up at her with cheese-coated teeth and Mara swallowed a groan. Beth looked at her, a smile on her lips but a touch of sadness in her eyes. ¡°Please, don¡¯t feel badly. The food was meant for him. And you, of course. Not you, though.¡± Mara followed the woman¡¯s stern gaze back to Eli, who stood in the doorway, looking large and rough and out-of-place amid all the finery. ¡°Have you seen Alma?¡± Beth asked, eyebrows raised. Eli¡¯s eyes flicked to Mara, then to Nick. ¡°I¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m an oracle, Eli. A seer. A Keeper of Truth. All my questions are rhetorical. Go see Alma.¡± Mara felt the command herself, but Eli hesitated, his attention on Mara. ¡°Are you¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯s more afraid of you than she is of me. She welcomes your absence. Now go.¡± His face scrunched a little and he still didn¡¯t move, his eyes on Mara. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said, a little irritated with the woman for spitting the truth at him so recklessly. She was afraid of Eli, yes, and she didn¡¯t know if she could trust him, but she also wasn¡¯t stupid. He¡¯d been her ally so far, albeit a dishonest one. The more her head cleared, the more clear she became that antagonizing him was the last thing she ought to do. At least until she found a new ally. ¡°Really. Go, um¡­ go see Alma.¡± Who Alma was, Mara didn¡¯t know. Another Keeper? An old friend? He dipped his head in a nod and shrugged her pack off his shoulders, setting it carefully against the wall. ¡°I¡¯ll be back to pick you up in twenty minutes.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be back to pick her up in an hour,¡± Beth said, ushering him toward the door. ¡°After Alma finishes with you, you¡¯ll visit the baths and get a change of clothes. You stink and you look like a story parents tell their children to scare them.¡± Mara caught one last glimpse of his worried expression before he was pushed unceremoniously into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him. ¡°There,¡± Beth said, brushing off her hands as if she¡¯d taken out the garbage. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get started.¡± (6) Beth ¡°I wish you hadn¡¯t said that to him,¡± Mara clipped out as Beth returned to the sitting room. Beth only smiled and bent over the table of food, piling items on a small saucer. Apple slices, cheese, a few soft crackers, tiny sandwiches with fruit spread. She poured a glass of milk from a pitcher by the tea and carried both over to the corner of the room. ¡°Come here, Nick,¡± she called, and Mara¡¯s son hurried after her with an enthusiasm he typically held in reserve around strangers. Mara watched in numb confusion as Beth set Nick up on a plush blanket in the corner, his milk and curated plate of snacks on a footstool on one side and a wicker basket of books and wooden toys on the other. ¡°He¡¯s going to spill that milk,¡± Mara said, annoyance growing alongside her confusion. Was everyone she met on this unhappy journey going to insist on doing things to her son without consulting her? ¡°Oh, yes.¡± Beth nodded, brows drawn together with mock gravity. ¡°But,¡± she raised a finger, ¡°he¡¯ll drink half of it before he does, so I¡¯d say it¡¯s worth it.¡± Mara could only shrug. ¡°It¡¯s your carpet.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Beth agreed cheerfully. ¡°Now, come sit.¡± Once, at the very beginning of their marriage, Davy had attempted this method during a fight. As Mara grew angrier, he grew more cheerful, more ¡®reasonable.¡¯ He¡¯d only tried it once. Beth, on the other hand, didn¡¯t seem like she was employing a tactic. Mara didn¡¯t get the sense she could browbeat the woman into engaging with her annoyance. She didn¡¯t get the sense she could browbeat the woman into anything. Defeated, she took a seat on the chaise as Beth set about preparing two cups of tea, accepting the one offered to her with a grudging, ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Please, eat,¡± Beth said, leaning back in her chair, tea cradled in her lap, and gesturing to the table. ¡°You lost quite a lot of blood. You should have seen the entryway. Looked like they slaughtered a bull in there. But enough with the pleasantries. You have questions.¡± ¡°My first question is how you came to think what we¡¯ve exchanged so far are pleasantries.¡± Beth tilted her head to the side, a slow smile spreading across her lips. ¡°Oh, now, when you come to the Keepers, Mara, you have to expect a little eccentricity. Our powers manifest young, you know. My own dreams started when I was five years old. I made a nuisance of myself, got my family into trouble, and I¡¯ve lived here ever since. And try as the Caretakers might to recreate normalcy for us, they¡¯ve yet to establish a proper finishing school. We¡¯re just one generation of isolated freaks raising another, so I have no talent for small talk. Tell me, what constitutes a pleasantry on the outside? Should I ask about the weather?¡± Chastened despite the girl¡¯s earnest, friendly tone, Mara lowered her gaze to her tea. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m just¡­¡± I¡¯m alone. My love is dead and I¡¯m alone and afraid and I don¡¯t know who to trust. And above and below it all, I¡¯m aggravated by how slow the world is moving, now that I¡¯m racing toward the finish. ¡°You¡¯re hungry,¡± Beth stated, with a shocking paucity of prescience. ¡°You¡¯ll like the muffins. Have one of those first.¡± Mara¡¯s stomach twisted at the thought of food, but there was little she could do at this point but surrender to whatever script from which Beth was reading. She took a plate and set a muffin atop it. Breaking off a small piece, she set it on her tongue and waited for her nausea to flare. But the morsel had a bite to it that tickled her sinuses and immediately calmed her stomach. She frowned at the muffin, then at her hostess. ¡°Milkstray?¡± ¡°And a lot of butter and sugar.¡± Mara took another bite. Another. Depths, she really was ravenous. ¡°So, your questions,¡± Beth prompted when the muffin was gone and Mara had set about piling food on the little plate, stomach growling obscenely. Mara set the plate on her knees. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure what to ask. I¡¯ve never been here before. I¡¯ve never wanted this kind of guidance.¡± Beth rolled her eyes. ¡°I know that, sweetheart. But you¡¯ve come here now.¡± ¡°I didn''t come to the Hive, I was brought here. Under duress.¡± ¡°Were you brought to my chambers under duress?¡± Mara popped a square of sharp yellow cheese in her mouth and chewed, thinking. Before she could answer, Beth did the work for her. ¡°You wanted to come. You have questions. You¡¯re ready for answers. Ask.¡± Nick sat in the corner, something red smeared across his cheek, turning the pages of a book of illustrations with fingers that stuck to the paper. ¡°He¡¯s not listening,¡± Beth said quietly. ¡°Ask.¡± Mara met the woman¡¯s eyes as her vision blurred. ¡°Is Davy¡ª¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Beth said. ¡°You didn¡¯t let me finish. I have to know for sure. Is he¡ª¡± ¡°You already know.¡± Mara¡¯s heart pounded angry fists against her sternum. A scream of frustration, of despair, bubbled up in her throat. ¡°Let me finish,¡± she pleaded. ¡°Let me finish the question.¡± Beth sighed. ¡°No, Mara. This question will carry you down a miserable path. You already know the answer. If you don¡¯t accept it, you¡¯ll find new ways to ask the question and new ways to hope, and reality will find new ways to dash your hope across the rocks.¡± Mara pushed a miniature sandwich into her mouth, the flavor of tart brambleberries exploding across her tongue as she chewed. Despite the harshness of her words, perhaps it was a gift that Beth was refusing to say it outright. ¡°Ask me another question. I know your mind is clouded with grief, but don¡¯t waste this opportunity. We won¡¯t meet again.¡± ¡°Can I trust Eli?¡± ¡°That¡¯s vague,¡± Beth said, rearranging her red silk skirt as she crossed her legs. ¡°Vague questions yield nonsense answers. Try again.¡± ¡°Is Eli¡­¡± Another miniature sandwich gave her time to think. ¡°Will Eli keep us safe?¡± ¡°He¡¯d sooner die than lead you into harm.¡± ¡°Is he loyal to the rebellion?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Did he betray Davy?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°But I can¡¯t trust him?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say that. I said it was a vague question. There are many ways to trust a person, and there¡¯s not one person you can trust in every way. But you can trust Eli, always, to keep your best interest foremost in his heart.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°But he barely knows me.¡± ¡°For now, it¡¯s not about you. Not his loyalty to you that¡¯s at play.¡± ¡°Who is it about, then?¡± ¡°Who do you think it¡¯s about?¡± ¡°Davy?¡± ¡°Look at you! You should be a Keeper.¡± Mara sighed. ¡°Where is he taking us, then?¡± ¡°The Ripshaw Enclave. He¡¯s already told you this, surely.¡± ¡°How are we getting there?¡± Beth rolled her eyes again. Perhaps all the casual condescension wouldn¡¯t grate on Mara¡¯s nerves so much if the girl wasn¡¯t so young. ¡°I haven¡¯t dreamt every moment of your life, Mara Swift. Ask Eli these logistical questions.¡± ¡°You just said I couldn¡¯t trust him!¡± ¡°I said no such thing. You can trust him with your safety and with your precious travel itinerary.¡± ¡°How are we getting out of here?¡± ¡°The tunnel. Really, Mara, ask better questions. Big questions.¡± Mara gnawed on her lip for a moment before asking, ¡°Why are you helping us? We¡¯re rebels. If you help us, you¡¯re picking sides, but the Hive never picks a side.¡± Perking up in her seat, Beth set her tea on the table and rubbed her hands together. ¡°Now we¡¯re getting to the good part,¡± she said with a little shimmy of excitement. ¡°The answer is one of semantics, really. The Hive doesn¡¯t pick sides, but that doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re truly neutral.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Oh, no. Not in a cosmic sense. Neutral implies we take no interest in good and evil, which is untrue. We work for good.¡± ¡°The rebellion isn¡¯t good?¡± Beth lifted her hands and wobbled them palm-up in the air as if they were scales. ¡°These groups that form, these regimes that rise and fall, none of them are truly good or evil. The Order was established five hundred years ago to protect its citizens from a legitimate threat. It defeated the threat but retained its strength, and with nothing outward left to fight, it turned its might inward and lost its benevolence. Your rebellion might topple the Order and free the Provinces from oppression, but in five hundred years it too will have lost its heart. The Hive doesn¡¯t pick sides, because we recognize how quickly good can become evil.¡± ¡°So the rebellion is evil?¡± Beth¡¯s face scrunched and she wobbled her head from side to side, retrieving her tea cup and taking a long sip. ¡°No,¡± she finally said, the word tipping up at the end like a question. ¡°Not as a whole, not in our lifetime. But it will become evil.¡± ¡°So why help us, then? My question still stands, doesn¡¯t it? We¡¯re rebels. If you help us, you¡¯re picking a side.¡± ¡°Oh, no. Not at all.¡± ¡°But we¡¯re rebels.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And you refuse to side with either the Order or the rebellion.¡± ¡°Or the merchants or the paupers, the healers or the shadow casters. We refuse to side with groups, Mara. We side with people often, and we always side with what is right.¡± Mara growled in frustration, drawing Nick¡¯s attention, his little brow furrowed in concern. She forced her face into a relaxed smile and gave him a reassuring wave. Satisfied, he went back to destroying Beth¡¯s book with his sticky fingers. ¡°I¡¯m confused.¡± Beth¡¯s face crumpled a little. ¡°I know. And I¡¯m sorry. Truly.¡± She sighed. ¡°Sometimes I wish I could just give a straight answer.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t?¡± ¡°I can, I suppose. There¡¯s no written rule stopping me. But direct interference always has a way of¡­¡± she wrinkled her nose and made a motion with one hand as if she was balling up a piece of paper, ¡°crumpling things.¡± ¡°Crumpling things,¡± Mara echoed, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Yes, crumpling things. Wadding the story up into a little ball so pieces that shouldn¡¯t touch each other do, and half the adventure is hidden from view.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Mara mused dryly, ¡°that explanation wasn¡¯t in danger of crumpling anything.¡± Beth shook her head. ¡°No, I suppose not. Imagine it like this. Say a lonely man comes to me on the cusp of defeat, no hope left to his name. And say I¡¯ve seen his future, and I know how bright that future is, and I know exactly who will fix it. I could look him in his eyes and say, ¡®The answer to your every question is the love of a single woman. You''ll meet her three months and two days hence. She¡¯ll be wearing a green skirt.¡¯ And he¡¯ll leave happy. It was a clear answer, right?¡± Mara nodded, only partially lost. Beth went on. ¡°But three months and two days later he¡¯ll see that woman and he¡¯ll know, and it never is the one you think, is it? Maybe he¡¯ll be disappointed, maybe she¡¯ll say something rude to him, maybe she¡¯s not even available at the time. He¡¯ll drive himself mad, trying to make himself love her or make her love him. Or he¡¯ll avoid her, be cruel to her, railing against what he knows. He¡¯ll ruin the story for both of them, because I gave him the ending. I skipped to the conclusion and robbed him of all the story in between, and it¡¯s in those lines that the two fall in love.¡± ¡°So you can change the future, just by telling a person about it?¡± Beth nodded. ¡°Fate is durable, but it isn¡¯t immutable. If I told that man the ending to his story, the page would crumple and find its way into the bin. And that¡¯s not a good thing. The story was written by powers much wiser than us. It¡¯s my duty, as a Keeper of Truth, to protect it. Not to scribble all over the pages, let alone crumple them up and throw them away.¡± ¡°Then what do you say to him instead?¡± Beth shrugged. ¡°I tell him not to give up hope. And I tell him when the road forks, the journey''s best end is down the road from which she''s calling him.¡± ¡°Without even telling him who she is?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Does that answer annoy him?¡± ¡°Of course it does. But he¡¯ll get over it, and so will you.¡± Mara stared down into her teacup, wondering how things would have changed if she¡¯d known from the beginning how much she¡¯d come to love Davy. The marriage had been an imposition. She¡¯d hated him for the first three months. They¡¯d fought constantly. Learned each other¡¯s quirks by treading all over them with clumsy, careless feet. And then they¡¯d started making up after those fights. They¡¯d learned each other¡¯s bodies. Learned the softness of surrender. She had to admit, she would hate to have been robbed of those months of bittersweet falling, of the blissful transition from resentment into affection into love. ¡°Do you have any more questions?¡± Beth¡¯s quiet, knowing voice drew Mara from her reverie. She had so many questions. Would they make it safely to the enclave? Would Nick lead a long and happy life? Would she ever learn to breathe around this weight inside her chest? Would the rebellion succeed, or would it fail? But would any answer to any question make her feel anything less than distraught and alone? She cleared her throat. ¡°So that you can give me more non-answers? No, I think I¡¯m done.¡± ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, the answers always make sense when they need to.¡± ¡°It¡¯s worth very little to me right now, Sister Beth.¡± Beth laughed, and Mara found herself relaxing into the chaise, and they passed most of their remaining time together in idle conversation. She learned that Beth had been born to rebel parents, and that her mother still came and visited her once a year. That her father had died of a fever just a year after she¡¯d come to the Hive. She learned that the Keepers never dreamt their own fates, and that fate itself was less a path and more a tangled pile of countless different lengths of yearn. That some outcomes were more likely than others but none were certain and the right inducement could transfer a soul from one stretch of fate to another. When Nick spilled his glass of milk, they cleaned the mess together and then Beth sat with him on the carpet, silk skirts splayed across the ground around her, and played with him while Mara dozed to the sound of her son¡¯s happy giggling. Mara didn¡¯t realize she¡¯d fallen asleep until a knock sounded at the door. She jerked upright, rubbing her achy eyes, as Beth leaped to her feet and hurried to the door. ¡°A whole new man,¡± she exclaimed as she swung the door open, taking Eli by the sleeve and drawing him into the kitchenette. ¡°Amazing what a little tonic and warm water can do, isn¡¯t it?¡± He did look better, Mara realized, but only a split second after realizing how truly ragged he¡¯d looked before. ¡°If you needed a tonic, you should have asked,¡± she said bluntly, nudging at her pack with a toe. ¡°I brought some with me.¡± His expression never shifted from neutral, but he lifted a hand and squeezed the back of his neck in obvious discomfort. ¡°We¡¯re leaving this evening after dinner,¡± he said, choosing to ignore her bitter peace offering. Perhaps wisely. She couldn¡¯t imagine a response that would make her care for him more or miss Davy less. ¡°I can take you back to the room to rest.¡± Mara looked instinctively to Beth, but the girl had no wisdom to offer her, however vague. She stood against the wall, watching Eli with soft eyes and a sweet smile. Fondness poured off her waves, warm as firelight. Such a stark contrast to Mara¡¯s own bitter distaste. His body tensed minutely, as if fighting a shiver. As if he¡¯d felt the pulse of Mara¡¯s cold, reluctant tolerance. She had never met an innate magic user who bothered to learn sensing, but she supposed it wouldn¡¯t be the most shocking thing about him. She¡¯d have to keep a tighter lid on her emotions where he was concerned. ¡°Sure,¡± she said, wondering how she¡¯d get any rest with Nick so clearly recovered from his coma-like slumber. He¡¯d be crawling the walls like a spider. Eli retrieved her pack before she could grab it, and Beth saw them out into the hallway, sending Nick away with his choice of the wooden horses from the basket of toys. Before Mara could decide how to thank the girl for the nonsense advice she¡¯d given, Beth had reached up and framed her face in small hands like she was a grandmother studying a precious grandchild. ¡°Be good, Mara Swift,¡± she said with a gentle smile. ¡°Trust your instincts. Trust your heart. Let the story unfold. You¡¯ll be happy again before it ends.¡± (7) The Tunnel Let the story unfold. You¡¯ll be happy again before it ends. The words played, over and over, in Mara¡¯s mind, like distant thunder. Let the story unfold. You¡¯ll be happy again before it ends. Let the story unfold. You¡¯ll be happy again¡­ You¡¯ll be happy again¡­ You¡¯ll be happy¡­ They rumbled in the background while she sat on the bed in her tiny room, the warmth of Eli¡¯s healing magic suffusing her blood and taking the pain from her shoulder, and when she surrendered Nick to Eli¡¯s care with the remembered promise of Beth¡¯s assertion that she could trust him. They nagged when she whispered her shameful confession, that she hadn¡¯t told her son that his father was dead and to please, please not shatter the illusion. They followed her afterward into a deep and otherwise dreamless sleep. They mocked her when she woke alone, nothing but flickering lamplight to keep her company. They loomed over her when Eli and Nick came to fetch her for dinner. They drowned out the hum of the massive dining hall where they ate, squirreled away on a bench in the corner. They distracted her as an unsmiling old woman in a crisp white robe led them through the impressive main hall and down a smaller offshoot into a storeroom, where she moved aside several crates and shelves to reveal a small doorway that opened onto a steep descending staircase that yawned pitch black beneath them. It was Nick¡¯s plaintive voice, his hand tugging at her shirt as they stood at the top of the stairs, that finally drew her fully back to reality. ¡°Mama?¡± She shook herself and smiled down at him. ¡°What an adventure!¡± she said brightly, crouching and squeezing his shoulders. ¡°Aren¡¯t you excited, Nick?¡± ¡°No,¡± he whimpered, stepping into her and burying his face in her chest. ¡°I¡¯ll be right here with you, my love,¡± she crooned, rubbing her hand up and down his back. ¡°It¡¯ll be fun, you¡¯ll see.¡± ¡°No!¡± he said more emphatically, clinging to her tighter. Mara looked up at Eli, who watched the exchange with solemn neutrality. ¡°Only this once,¡± she said quietly. ¡°And no sleep this time, just calm.¡± He nodded once and crouched at her side. ¡°Hey, Nicky.¡± Nick sniffed and turned his face against Mara¡¯s chest so he could see Eli without leaving the safety of her hold. Bitter guilt coated the back of her tongue. But what was the alternative? That they descend the staircase wrestling with a writhing, terrified child? Eli lifted a hand and swiped a tear from Nick¡¯s cheek with his thumb. ¡°We¡¯re going to go on an adventure,¡± he said, voice a low, hypnotic hum. The magic wasn¡¯t directed at her, but she could feel it nonetheless, a boozy buzz in her veins. ¡°Your mama and I are gonna take good care of you, I promise. You just need to stay calm for us, okay?¡± Mara felt the tension leave Nick¡¯s body, and he nodded, relaxing his grip on her clothing. ¡°I¡¯m going to carry you for this first bit,¡± Eli said. ¡°Once we get to the bottom of the stairs, you can walk, okay?¡± Another listless nod. Mara felt sick. Her hands twitched, and visions of shoving Eli backwards down the stairs taunted her. She¡¯d watch him fall into the darkness and then slam the door on all of him. His news about Davy, his terrifying plan, his insidious magic, Beth¡¯s assertive promise of his loyalty. She clenched her fists as Nick stepped away from her. Eli tugged him close and rose from his crouch, hiking her son onto his hip. ¡°Thank you, Sister Eve,¡± he said to the woman in white, and she nodded without expression. ¡°You can¡¯t get lost,¡± she said. ¡°The tunnels only have one exit. But it¡¯s narrow in the middle. You¡¯ll have to crawl for a time. And the journey isn¡¯t short. It took Sister Plya twelve hours, and she is very quick on her feet.¡± Mara¡¯s hands and feet went cold, her skin prickling. Eli hadn¡¯t shared that detail with her. Just that there was a tunnel that would take them safely from the city. She¡¯d imagined something as well-constructed as the rest of the Hive, with tiled walls perhaps and brass sconces holding oil lamps to light the way. She¡¯d imagined they¡¯d spend a few hours underground at most. Before she could generate a coherent protest, Eli was descending with her child, and she had no choice but to follow. She pulled the crystal flask Eli had brought her before dinner from her pocket, mumbling the incantation he¡¯d said would bring it to life. In her palm, the liquid within the flask glowed blue-white like the moon, illuminating the rough-hewn stone staircase. In another life¨Cone where Davy lived and her brain was free to ruminate and wonder¨Cshe¡¯d be fascinated by the complexity of magic contained within the small flask. Harnessing light was a high, nigh-unattainable level of physiking. A level unseen in the Provinces in centuries. ¡°Safe travels,¡± Sister Eve said, punctuating the innocuous farewell by swinging the door shut. Mara shuddered as the bar dropped into place behind them. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. There were no handrails, and as they began their descent, her mind assailed her with images of Eli falling, tumbling down the endless steps with her son, of her finding them at the distant landing, however many miles below, Nick¡¯s tiny body crushed and bloody. Lifeless. ¡°Where would you like me to hold the light?¡± she asked Eli, not wanting to hold it at the wrong angle and cast confusing shadows that might trip him up and cause him to fall with her child in his arms. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± He reached a hand back and she passed it over to him, and the darkness behind her tickled the back of her neck. ¡°Can you still see alright?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She couldn¡¯t find the air to say more. She wanted to turn back and hammer on the door, beg Sister Eve to let her back in. But Eli had her son, and he was walking down the stairs. Therefore, so would she. The steps, though carved from stone, were relatively even, and their descent took on a hypnotic rhythm. She trailed one hand along the wall, the smooth stone growing cooler against her fingertips as they plunged deeper underground, the walls pressing closer, the ceiling dipping lower. The darkness below them swallowed up the sound of their footsteps, their breathing, no echoes reverberating back. Mara felt her tether to the earth begin to fray, ironic considering she was climbing down the earth¡¯s throat, plunging into its belly. But she felt unreal, flimsy, her senses numb from the monotony. Perhaps she¡¯d have been alright if her mind had been more active, but even that was caught in a loop. Her husband was dead. Her home was in cinders. Her life was a shambles. Her husband was dead. Shadows on stone, footsteps, fear. Her husband was dead. You¡¯ll be happy again before the end. ¡°How is your shoulder, Mara?¡± Eli¡¯s voice was crisp without its echo, clear in the cool, damp air. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m fine.¡± Could Nick hear the quaver in her voice? He was spelled to stay calm, she knew, but she was still his mother. She still owed him comfort. Pulling in a deep breath, she pressed all the desperate fear down to her hand, told herself that it was oozing from her fingertips where she trailed them along the wall, leaving her body, painting the wall with tracks of sickly yellow-green, the color of bile. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said again. ¡°You did a good job healing it.¡± She swallowed. ¡°I should have thanked you.¡± She didn¡¯t feel thankful. She wished he¡¯d let her die. ¡°No need,¡± Eli said. Then, after a few more steps, ¡°We should reach the bottom soon.¡± ¡°Have you been here before?¡± Now that they were talking, she realized how much it helped. She was coming loose from the earth, but his voice, the simple human process of making sense of his words and offering something sensible in return, was like a rescue rope. She grasped it with both hands and clung. ¡°No, but Sister Eve showed me a map.¡± ¡°Will it really take twelve hours?¡± ¡°More,¡± he said, apology in his tone. ¡°We¡¯ll take breaks and stop to sleep at some point.¡± ¡°And we have to crawl for a while?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°How long will we have to crawl?¡± ¡°Not long. It¡¯s the distance of a few city blocks.¡± She almost laughed. ¡°Your definition of ¡®not long¡¯ is a little different than mine.¡± He did laugh, a low chuckle, but didn¡¯t answer. ¡°I suppose now¡¯s as good a time as any to warn you,¡± she said, desperate not to lose the thread of conversation, of sanity, ¡°I don¡¯t love small spaces.¡± He didn¡¯t answer for a long moment, several heartbeats pounding in her ears, several steps surrendering to her feet before, ¡°If you want, I can¨C¡± ¡°No.¡± She couldn¡¯t even let him say the words. She could understand, looking back, why he felt he had to use his magic on her the night before. In his position, she might have done the same. But that moment of necessity had passed. ¡°No. Never again, Eli.¡± She expected him to argue, but he didn¡¯t. Which was good, she thought, because it wouldn¡¯t be an appropriate argument to have in front of Nick. But also, the silence¡­ ¡°So, um¡­¡± She pressed her fingers harder to the wall, relishing the scrape of pain as the stone chafed her skin. ¡°So you¡¯re not a level two healer.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Well?¡± ¡°Well what?¡± ¡°What level are you, then?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know for sure. I was meant to downplay my capacity during the Order¡¯s evaluations, so I wouldn¡¯t get shunted off to palace duty. The rebellion wanted Davy and I together, in the rank and file.¡± ¡°Together.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°So that you could protect him.¡± She didn¡¯t mean for the words to sound accusatory, but they came out that way, sharp and acidic. And perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she thought she saw his back tighten in a subtle flinch. ¡°Yes.¡± He couldn¡¯t say more with Nick right there, magically sedated but still conscious and listening. But the guilt and regret were clear enough in his voice. Guilt and regret that seeped through her own skin and settled in her gut. Perhaps she hadn¡¯t meant to be cruel, but she also hadn¡¯t tried to be kind. Not at any point since he showed up at her front door and broke her world in half. She was just so angry, and there was nowhere for that anger to go. She was about to say something, to apologize, when the halo of light from the crystal shifted and the stairs gave way to a gentle downward slope. ¡°So, the area where we have to crawl¡­¡± she prompted. ¡°It¡¯s nearer to the end, when we pass under the city wall.¡± ¡°We haven¡¯t already?¡± She was confused. The Hive itself sat outside the city walls. ¡°No, we¡¯re likely just reaching the outer ring. The tunnel passes under the city. We¡¯ll come out in Loftland.¡± Loftland. For a moment she was standing back in the entryway of her townhome, watching Davy buckle his swordbelt around his waist. ¡°It¡¯s just a Loftland patrol, sweetheart. I¡¯ll be back by dinnertime tomorrow.¡± He¡¯d been wearing a sweet, cajoling little smile. She¡¯d had her arms crossed over her chest, a protective gesture. Somehow, in all the chaos, she¡¯d forgotten that moment, when she¡¯d followed him to the door and given voice to the hollow dread inside her. ¡°I¡¯m worried,¡± she¡¯d admitted. More worried than normal. Worried in a way that settled like a heavy stone, deep in her belly. ¡°I have a bad feeling.¡± She should have trusted her intuition. He¡¯d have stayed if she asked him to. She¡¯d still have him. (8) Metaphysical Debate They walked in silence for perhaps an hour before Eli called a break, at which point they sat against the damp walls and drank from their water flasks in yet more studied silence. Mara chewed obediently on the apple Eli handed her. Around when she finished the apple, Eli declared the break over and they climbed to their feet. They walked another hour. Took another break. Mara¡¯s mind freed from the perilous monotony of the stairs, churned relentlessly through what-if and what-next as her feet carried her through the darkness. Her fear, at least, seemed to have eased now that they were no longer descending so relentlessly. As the hours ticked by, their breaks came more frequently, for which Mara was grateful. Her feet ached, unaccustomed to so much walking. Her back ached, unaccustomed to the weight of her pack. ¡°I think I¡¯ve gone a little soft,¡± she mused during their seventh rest break, sighing as she shrugged out of the straps and leaned forward to stretch her legs. Eli responded with a little snort of amusement, setting Nick down between them. A few breaks back, he¡¯d given Nick charge of the light, and her son cradled it now in his hands, face aglow, transfixed by slight pulsation of the crystal¡¯s liquid contents. She hated to see him this way, his clever mind dulled to a drunken fog. ¡°I hate this,¡± she said, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her son¡¯s forehead. ¡°He¡¯s like a barfly at last call.¡± Eli shrugged out of his own pack and twisted to pop his back. ¡°We can try to wean him off it,¡± he said, sinking to the ground and leaning back against the wall with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯ve tried it a few times, with wounded or battle-bound officers. After the initial shock passes and their minds have a moment to adjust to the trauma, I can usually ease up without them falling back into panic.¡± He tipped his head back, eyes closed, and she frowned at the sheen of sweat on his face. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked. He cracked one eye to frown at her. ¡°Of course.¡± Something about the way he said it, though¡­ ¡°If something¡¯s wrong, I can help. I may not be a level-unknown healer, but I am a physik. I brought some potions and tonics with me, and I can¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, Mara.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± Now that she¡¯d sunk her teeth into this bone, she was noticing things she ought to have noticed hours ago. The lines of strain bracketing his mouth, the sweat, the minute tremble in his hands. What kind of physik was she that it had taken her so long to note such obvious signs of distress? ¡°Look, if you¡¯re hurt you need to tell me. If not for your own sake, for ours. We need you. I don¡¯t even know where we¡¯re meant to be going.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not hurt.¡± ¡°But you admit something is wrong.¡± He cracked an eye again, then opened both, sitting up a little straighter with a resigned sigh. ¡°It¡¯s just the spellwork,¡± he admitted, tipping his chin at Nick. ¡°Emotional persuasion is sort of like trying to bail out a rowboat without plugging the leak first. Planting ideas, like I did with the lieutenant, is easy enough. It¡¯s a one time effort, unless there are contrary stimuli in the environment telling the mind to reject the idea. All you have to do is erase one memory and replace it with another. But emotions come from within and the magic doesn¡¯t touch the source so they just keep welling up.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why you just made him sleep last night,¡± she guessed, ¡°instead of calming both of us. Is sleep easier?¡± He smiled and nodded. ¡°Generally. Sleep is a natural inclination. It¡¯s easier to force than a false thought or a counterintuitive emotion. And once the mind is asleep it likes to stay that way.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± She leaned a shoulder against the wall, fascinated in spite of herself. ¡°Davy never mentioned any of this.¡± He¡¯d told her all about his shadow-casting, of course. They¡¯d worked together, developing different ways to weave his magic into lasting shields, adding her theoretical understanding to his natural talent. It was his shadow-casting that made him valuable to the rebellion, able to lift and protect minds from the insidious persuasive magic of the Order and build a network of free-thinking dissenters within its rank and file. The shadow-casting was vital to the rebellion, but it was his persuasive magic that granted him access to the Order in the first place, and they¡¯d rarely if ever discussed that. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Davy¡¯s never been a fan of persuasive magic,¡± Eli said, eyes closed once more. ¡°Of course he¡¯s not.¡± Persuasive magic was the tool with which the Order maintained its chokehold on the Provinces. ¡°You don¡¯t share his distaste?¡± He rolled his head against the wall in vague answer. ¡°I have distaste for how it¡¯s used, especially in the hands of the Order. But refusing to study it just gives more power to those who don¡¯t share the same reticence.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s a slippery slope, from studying it to using it for your own purposes?¡± ¡°Mm.¡± She knew he was trying to rest. She knew she ought to let him. But every time their voices faded, everything else crept in. ¡°What does ¡®mm¡¯ mean?¡± ¡°It means¡­¡± He sighed again. He did a lot of sighing around her. Perhaps because she kept wanting to talk when he was trying to rest. ¡°It means I disagree, but it might be wise to save metaphysical debate for after we¡¯re no longer dependent upon each other for survival.¡± She snorted. ¡°Or trapped underground.¡± ¡°Mm.¡± ¡°Was that ¡®mm¡¯ an agreement?¡± ¡°Mm.¡± ¡°Well, in any event, I might be dependent on you for survival, but I hardly see how you¡¯re dependent on me.¡± He cracked a weary grin at her, the expression wry, a little sad around the eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve got some hard news to deliver to Elise and Rorick,¡± he reminded her. ¡°I have a feeling my survival will be in your hands before too long.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never even met Davy¡¯s parents.¡± She¡¯d met the kind older couple, the Swifts, who¡¯d posed as Davy¡¯s parents after he was sent to the Capital to infiltrate the rebellion. His real parents ruled the rebellion from the Enclave, and Davy himself could describe them only vaguely, having seen them last when he was ten years old. ¡°No, but they know who you are. He wrote them frequently, often of you and of Nick. They know the strength of your marriage. They¡¯ll welcome you with open arms, and they¡¯ll adore Nick.¡± Rather than comforting her, the words made her feel prickly inside. However they felt about her, she didn¡¯t know how civil she could be to the couple who had treated their son more like a pawn than a child. They¡¯d sent him off to live a life of danger and dishonesty, keeping their own safe distance as they did so. Not to mention it felt disloyal to the Swifts, somehow, whom she had loved like parents in the absence of her own. ¡°What are they like?¡± she asked. ¡°His parents? Did you ever meet them?¡± Eli sighed. Again. And before he could answer, she cut him off. ¡°Nevermind. You¡¯re trying to rest. I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry. Are you feeling alright to move on?¡± She wasn¡¯t, but no amount of sitting on the cold, hard ground would change that. She nodded, and they gathered themselves and continued on. As they walked, Eli told her what he knew of Davy¡¯s parents. Some of the information Davy had already shared, but she clung to every word, Eli¡¯s voice a distraction from the discomfort and the grief. Davy¡¯s mother, Elise, was a formidable woman. But of course, thought Mara. What every woman wants in a mother-in-law. Though Elise and Rorick, Davy¡¯s father, presumably ruled the rebellion together, most of their followers understood that she was the true architect of the organization. A shadow-caster like Davy, albeit much weaker than he had been, she had woken herself from the Order¡¯s spell just after her thirteenth birthday and run away from her home in a remote village in the Moro Plains to live a feral life in the Smokestacks until she was sixteen. Rorick was also a shadow-caster, but unlike Elise he had been born to a rebel family and trained formally from a young age to weave shields against persuasive magic. As legend had it, Eli said, Rorick and Elise met when she was sixteen, he seventeen. His parents had sent him to the Ripshaw Enclave for further training, and it was on that journey that he stumbled upon the wild girl with tangled dark hair. ¡°Rorick likes to say it was love at first sight,¡± Eli said, amusement in his tone. ¡°But I think she tried to kill him.¡± ¡°Some men like that sort of thing,¡± Mara offered, and he made another one of those vague ¡®mm¡¯ sounds before continuing. Whether their love was instant or slow-earned, Elise and Rorick did eventually marry and establish a life together in a village near Clearwater, living much as Mara and Davy had. They lived humbly, right under the Order¡¯s nose, all the while planting the seeds of discontent by waking up their friends, their colleagues, casting shields of shadow magic to protect their allies¡¯ minds from the Order¡¯s manipulations. ¡°When they became parents, they moved back to the Enclave,¡± Eli said, the story taking on a slow, even cadence that told her it was reaching its conclusion. ¡°By the time Davy manifested as a shadow-caster, they¡¯d taken over leadership of the rebellion. Even as a child, he was more powerful than either of them. It only made sense that they send him away, to the Capital, to continue their legacy in a way that neither of them could have achieved.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t help but hate them a little,¡± Mara said, into the silence that followed. ¡°I know they¡¯re his parents but I just¡­ I can¡¯t help but hate them for sending him into danger.¡± They continued on, shielded from the darkness by their little sphere of white-blue light. She waited and waited for him to answer. To tell her that she shouldn¡¯t, that they¡¯d been acting selflessly for a cause even higher than parental duty. When that admonishment never came, she waited for him to say that he hated them too. She waited. She waited. And in the end, he said nothing at all. (9) Resistance Technique Eli carried a pocket watch on him, so she knew that it was a little after dawn when they reached the portion of the tunnel that passed beneath the wall. They¡¯d spent most of the night in silence¨CNick having fallen into natural sleep. Mara¡¯s growing fatigue was so heavy, the aches in her body so loud, even the oppressive dark and silence faded from her awareness. But three breaks ago, the tunnel had begun to shrink, at first gradually so that Mara thought it might be a trick of her exhausted mind. But after a time, it grew so narrow she couldn¡¯t extend her arm out all the way, even if she walked with her other shoulder close to the wall. The ceiling, meanwhile, crept lower and lower until Eli had to walk with a slight hunch to avoid knocking his head. Now, the fear crept back in on silent, predatory feet. Her mind awoke from its exhausted stupor to knead relentlessly at questions to which she didn¡¯t want to know the answers. How deep beneath the earth had they traveled? How many pounds of earth lay above them? How much air was there to breathe? If the tunnel grew too narrow and they became stuck, who would know? Nobody. They would simply die, their remains carried off by whatever creeping creatures made their homes so far beneath the earth, only bones and scraps of clothing left behind to warn away the next poor souls who sought to escape through this death trap. ¡°Mara?¡± She jerked. Smacked her head against the ceiling, which she too had to stoop to avoid. ¡°Yes?¡± Her voice emerged reedy, breathless. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s take a break.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no need, I¨C¡± But he was already stopping, his movements awkward in the cramped space as he knelt, Nick still cradled in his arms. ¡°Sit, Mara. Please.¡± She obeyed the command, relieved to have something to do other than panic. She sat cross-legged on the ground, closed her eyes, and tried to breathe deeply, to connect with the earth. But she couldn¡¯t concentrate. Not with the cold silence of the rock hemming her in, the piercing sensation of Eli¡¯s attention careening off the walls and stabbing through her. If she couldn¡¯t calm herself down, would he take matters into his own hands? ¡°Are you going to spell me?¡± she asked, refusing to open her eyes. He¡¯d already demonstrated that his persuasion was strong enough to work without eye contact, but she had no intention of making it easier on him. ¡°No. I swore to you I wouldn¡¯t.¡± She opened her eyes but kept her gaze trained on her hands, folded in her lap. They looked like the hands of a dead thing in the strange magical light¨Cwhite and cold. ¡°Give me Nick.¡± Why did she have to say it like that? So accusatory? Like he was keeping them apart on purpose? She felt even worse when Nick was placed carefully on the ground beside her, his head in her lap. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you.¡± The statement burbled out of her, utterly devoid of context. But there was no room in this meandering coffin for context. Just honesty and helpless fear. She had no defenses against anything that threatened her. She couldn¡¯t hold up the earth if the walls of this tunnel caved in, nor could she fight off persuasion. And while she¡¯d convinced herself, with Beth¡¯s reassurance, to trust him with her safety, her mind was an entirely different question. ¡°I know. I don¡¯t expect you to trust me. Would it help if we worked on your resistance technique?¡± ¡°Resistance doesn¡¯t work.¡± Davy had always warned her not to trust in it. A persuasive magic user with half the power she¡¯d seen Eli employ could make kindling of any mental door she tried to close against him. ¡°That¡¯s not entirely true. You¡¯re a physik, so I assume you already have a strong grasp of listening?¡± Mara ran her trembling, corpse¡¯s fingers through Nick¡¯s hair and bit her lip. Listening, or ¡®sensing¡¯ as Mara had always called it, took hours of daily practice and intense concentration, which made it all but inaccessible to the mother of a young child. Once upon a time, she¡¯d been able to reach out with her mind and brush her fingertips against the magical currents that bound the world together. Now, the only current she sensed with any consistency was the gushing, arterial flow of her love, her strength, her essence into her son. ¡°I¡¯ve fallen out of practice.¡± ¡°But you have the foundation, and if those books Davy was always scrounging up for you are any indication, you know the theory. It¡¯s just a matter of building the muscle back.¡± ¡°I suppose.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll work on that first, then. Half of resistance is recognizing that you¡¯re under persuasion, and if you learn to tuck that recognition away in your brain, it¡¯ll take stronger persuasion than I¡¯ve got to pry it out.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± He didn¡¯t answer, and though her sensing muscles were weak, she knew it was defeat that kept him silent. Was this how it would be between them, for however long this journey lasted? Him offering peace and her slapping it out of his hand? She supposed it was up to her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be. I¡¯m not under the illusion that what I did to you is forgivable, Mara. Doubting one¡¯s perception of reality is a curse I wouldn¡¯t wish upon my worst enemy, let alone someone I mean to protect. I intend to make it right, but I don¡¯t expect it to be easy.¡± Mara leaned her head back against the stone wall and closed her eyes. ¡°Are you always so reasonable?¡± ¡°Only when I¡¯m making amends for a grave transgression.¡± Mara pressed her lips together to keep them from curving up in a smile. She shouldn¡¯t be smiling. She should never smile. Davy was gone. Davy was dead. Smiling at anything other than Nick was a relic of her past. ¡°So¡­ resistance techniques.¡± ¡°Would you like to learn?¡± If she wasn¡¯t mistaken, the lightest touch of relief colored his tone. ¡°I¡¯d be a fool not to, wouldn¡¯t I?¡± He elected, perhaps wisely, not to answer that question. ¡°In that case, the first step is to get your listening technique back. Since you already have a method, I won¡¯t try to impose any of mine on you. You can work on that for a few days and let me know when you feel ready to move on.¡± She shrugged without opening her eyes, though her mind skipped just a touch, the way it always did when she was presented with a new challenge. That old, familiar yearning sparked to life within her, that impatience, that need to practice, to master, to move on to the next step and the next. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°You feeling okay? Ready to keep moving?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Wordlessly, she and Eli gathered themselves and carried on, stooped beneath the low ceiling, the weight of uncertainty. Mara wasn¡¯t unaware of what he¡¯d done for her. She was embarrassed that he had to, certainly. Ashamed. Unwillingly resentful that he was the one here to calm and distract her, and not Davy. But she was aware. Eventually, the warring emotions within her called a truce and she was able to discern the one that most deserved a voice. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said to his back, her voice steady. ¡°Mm.¡± (10) A Hindrance Eventually, the shrinking tunnel drove them to their hands and knees and forced a reconfiguration. They left Nick to nap with his head on Mara¡¯s folded jacket while Eli unearthed a length of rope from his pack and bound it to the straps of Mara¡¯s. Eli would go first, pushing his own pack ahead of him. Then Nick, who Eli would magically compel to stay calm and crawl between them. Then Mara, dragging her own pack behind her. They took a longer rest than they had before, since it wouldn¡¯t be practical to take another until they reached the far end of the narrow section. Mara ate half an apple and roused Nick to eat the other half. She also forced him to drink some water, though she was growing concerned about the lightness of her flask. She and Eli each carried three, and she was already halfway through her second one. When she voiced her concerns to Eli, he waved them off. ¡°Loftland is a hard place to go hungry or thirsty,¡± he told her, flapping a hand. He sat against the opposite wall, knees upraised to fit in the narrow space. ¡°There¡¯s snowmelt creeks in every culvert, wild berries on every bush, and the small game practically crawls into your lap.¡± ¡°I thought it was a hostile place,¡± she said thoughtfully, struggling to reconcile the dark Loftland legends with the fertile image he was drawing. ¡°It can be. Humans aren¡¯t the only creatures who find it hard to go hungry, there.¡± Mara took another, deeper sip of her water. ¡°Did you take an oath that prevents you from providing clarifying details, or do you just enjoy being cryptic?¡± For a moment, silence filled the oppressive emptiness of the narrow tunnel and Mara grit her teeth, glaring at her own knees and cursing her impulsivity. What was she thinking? Was she thinking? Her life was in this man¡¯s hands, and he¡¯d already demonstrated more patience with her than she had any right to expect. What sweet insanity had inspired her to tease him? The silence broke with his small, surprised huff of laughter, and Mara¡¯s muscles went slack with relief as he replied, amusement lifting his tone from its usual measured cadence. ¡°Loftland is discerning, and she doesn¡¯t lack for defenses. If you entered the forest with intent to steal or do harm, you would discover a hostile, savage place populated by blood-thirsty beasts. If you enter the forest with intent to seek refuge, or to pass peaceably through, it¡¯s the safest place this side of the Shipway.¡± ¡°See, that¡¯s a proper answer.¡± Mara took another sip of water. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome. How is your shoulder?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she lied, averting her gaze. ¡°We¡¯ll be crawling for some time. If it¡¯s sore, let me work on it a little more.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, really. It just aches a little.¡± ¡°Mara.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been keeping Nick calm all night,¡± she blurted. ¡°You¡¯re going to burn out.¡± His brows drew together, as if she¡¯d said something absurd. Had she? It was hard to tell. Her mind wasn¡¯t exactly at its most sound. ¡°I just mean¡­ I mean shouldn¡¯t you save your magic? What if we run into trouble and we need you for something more serious than a sore shoulder?¡± That made sense, didn¡¯t it? Did it not? Perhaps it did, because the befuddled frown melted from his face. ¡°I¡¯m nowhere near my limit,¡± he said simply. ¡°Nick slept the last few hours, so I had a break. And the stronger you are, the less energy it takes to heal you. Better to do it now, before you go crawling around and making it worse.¡± Mara was starting to get a little aggravated, with herself, with the situation, even with him. She was meant to be the sensible one. That was why Davy had married her. She was smart, competent, and good under pressure, having spent most of her life serving the city¡¯s poor and oppressed. She snuck about after curfew, bargaining and trading her way into an impressive collection of books and ingredients and tools. She taught herself lay magic so that she could better care for the people she considered her own. And now here she was, in perhaps the defining crisis of her life, floundering about, spiraling into anxiety, and offering nothing to the escape effort but the occasional silly, token protest. All the power of her mind and spirit were sinking into the pit of her grief, leaving her helpless. A hindrance. A waste of time and energy. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She knew better than to think she could postpone grieving her husband forever, but she needed at least to postpone it until they reached safety. She could not afford to fall to pieces or drift loose from the earth when her son needed her so badly. So, she decided, she would play pretend. She¡¯d lied to her son, implied that they¡¯d be meeting his father where they were going. What further harm would it do to tell herself the same lie? And if doing so let her borrow back her sanity, her utility, then wasn¡¯t that harm a worthwhile price to pay? ¡°Mara?¡± She jerked a little, coming back to herself, and found Eli watching her with a line between his brows. ¡°You alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said. ¡°But you¡¯re right. It makes sense to let you heal it.¡± His expression relaxed, and he dipped his head in a grateful nod. ¡°Thank you. Is it okay if Nick takes a nap while I work?¡± She wanted to say no, that she didn¡¯t want her sweet son spending any more time in magic induced catatonia. But that was one of those illogical, grief-stricken widow thoughts. A product of her desperate reluctance to endanger another thing she loved. So she simply nodded. When Nick was asleep once more, Eli gestured for her to sit back against the wall and shuffled close enough to touch her, Nick¡¯s sleeping form nestled between them. Though she was loath to let him touch her, she offered him her hand, knowing that he needed skin-to-skin contact to heal. She needn¡¯t have worried about undue intimacy. He took her offered hand like it was a delicate object, his thumb pressed lightly in the center of her palm, two fingers cradling her knuckles, the rest curved toward his own palm. She wanted to say something about the absurdity of it. His obvious reticence made the whole thing worse, somehow. But before she could speak, his eyes met hers. ¡°Ready?¡± Healing sessions hurt, often more than injury itself. Bracing herself, she nodded. ¡°Go ahead.¡± Heat flooded up her arm from where they touched, sinking into her shoulder. The ache became a throbbing, burning, tearing pain, and she grit her teeth and leaned her head back against the wall. She forced herself to breathe, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Gradually, burning and tearing faded to just burning. Then the burning eased to a tingly itch. Her breath came easier and the heat gave way to pleasant warmth. And finally, the saving grace of healing magic¨Ca wave of soothing cool traveled up her arm and washed away the echoing remnants of the pain. Eli released her hand, and she flexed her fingers, experimentally rolling her shoulder. ¡°Wow.¡± Sometimes it made her jealous, what a healer could do. There was value in what she did as a physik. For one, lay magic was accessible to any who attempted to learn it, while healing magic was an innate skill, limited to those to whom it was gifted at birth. For another, the power of healing was limited by the strength of the patient. A physik could do far more for an exhausted, malnourished patient than a healer could. A physik could brew antidotes to poisons, where a healer could only protect the body as it eliminated the poison itself. Nonetheless¡­ ¡°I know you flubbed the evaluations, but you¡¯re at least a level seven,¡± she said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if you were a ten.¡± ¡°How does it feel?¡± he asked, ducking his head a moment too late to hide the flicker of a smile. ¡°Good as new.¡± ¡°Truly, though.¡± ¡°Truly. Doesn¡¯t hurt at all.¡± He let a breath out through his nose, nodded, and shuffled away toward his pack. ¡°In that case, get some rest. I¡¯m going to scout ahead a bit.¡± Mara straightened. ¡°What?¡± He was already shuffling away, moving his pack so that it sat beside hers, the rope spooled atop it. ¡°I¡¯m going to scout ahead.¡± If Mara hadn¡¯t just resolved to be less of a hindrance, she might have burst into tears. She didn¡¯t trust him, didn¡¯t even like him all that much, but that didn¡¯t mean she¡¯d rather be alone. But she had just resolved to be less of a hindrance, and scouting ahead was a practical thing to do. If some part of the cavern had caved in, or was too narrow for him to pass through, better for him to discover it than to wait until all three of them were stacked up behind each other with their packs in tow. ¡°Okay.¡± Her voice quavered, so she cleared her throat. ¡°Sounds good.¡± She punctuated the lie with a firm nod. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be longer than thirty minutes. If an hour passes and I¡¯m not back, turn around. There¡¯s a ward at the top of the stairs. The Caretakers will know to come let you in. They¡¯ll hide you and help you figure some other way out.¡± Mara frowned, irritated. She hadn¡¯t realized there was an Eli-free escape option. If she had, she¡¯d have chosen that one. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t they do that in the first place?¡± Eli sat back on his heels, and his eyes caught hers in the eerie light, flashing with something she hadn¡¯t seen in him before. Something that snagged on the loose threads of her own tattered emotions. ¡°I know you don¡¯t trust me, Mara, but I am your best chance of reaching safety. If there was someone else to take you, some better route to travel, we wouldn¡¯t be here.¡± She opened her mouth and then closed it. Opened her mouth. Closed it again. In the silence, Eli pulled the watch from his pocket, unclipped the chain from his belt, and handed it to her. The metal of the watch itself was warm, the chain cool where it draped over the back of her hand. ¡°Thirty minutes.¡± She nodded and offered him the light, but he waved it off. Watch in one hand, light in the other, she sat and watched him turn and crawl away. The tunnel shrank so rapidly, he was still in sight when he was forced from his hands and knees down onto his belly. Her eyes burned, but she didn¡¯t blink, watching his feet until they disappeared into the dark. It was only after the sound of his shuffling progress faded into silence that she realized she desperately wanted him to return. (11) On Hands and Knees Each minute that ticked by while Mara waited for Eli to return added a layer to the icy ball of dread forming at the base of her sternum. She could only assume that it would take them at least twice as long to traverse the tunnel together than it would for him to do so alone and unburdened. Which meant however long he was gone¨Csince he had to travel there and also back¨Cthat was how long she could expect to be trapped in that narrow chasm of certain death. She glanced at the watch. Fifteen minutes. If Eli¡¯s bag got stuck and they had to climb back out, she would be the barrier to their exit. If she couldn¡¯t kick her own bag back down the tunnel, they would die in there. Nick would die in there. Seventeen minutes. Her death wish had abandoned her at the least opportune moment. She wanted to be with Davy, yes, but she didn¡¯t want to leave Nick an orphan and she would never wish that he would die. Which he would, if they didn¡¯t survive this. Twenty minutes. Nick slept soundly with his head in her lap, his breathing deep and slow. She tried to breathe with him, mimicking the way he exhaled, like a sigh. Lingering at the bottom of the breath with him, lungs empty, heart slowing. Twenty five minutes. The fear ebbed away from her saturated psyche as she combed her fingers through Nick¡¯s hair. She was frightened, she was distraught, she was lost, and she missed Davy. But she was, above all, a mother. She would do whatever it took to get Nick through this. Twenty eight minutes. A shuffling, scraping sound from down the tunnel drew her attention, and she turned hopeful eyes toward the opening, where gray gave way to black. A few seconds later, the top of Eli¡¯s emerged into the light, then his shoulders. As she watched, he dragged himself up onto all fours and crawled forward into the glow of the light. His face gleamed with sweat, offset by dark streaks of grime, but his expression was triumphant. ¡°The tunnel¡¯s intact,¡± he breathed as he shifted to sit against the wall. She handed him a water flask and he took it with a grunt of gratitude. ¡°Is it wide enough?¡± she asked, glancing at his pack. ¡°Should be.¡± He took several deep swallows of water and leaned his head back against the rough-hewn stone. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± He cracked one eye, the corner of his mouth turning up in a knowing smile. ¡°That¡¯s the outcome you were hoping for?¡± ¡°Well, no,¡± she admitted. ¡°But my opinion on the matter is irrelevant. My guide insists this is the best way.¡± His eye slipped shut but the smile stayed. ¡°Sounds like you should find yourself a new guide.¡± She snorted. ¡°Believe me, I¡¯m searching.¡± She paused, watching his face, but his expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°That¡¯s a joke, by the way.¡± ¡°I know,¡± he sighed, taking one more swig of water before capping the flask. ¡°You ready to go?¡± ¡°Are you?¡± He sat up straighter, shoving the flask back in his bag and cracking his neck. ¡°I¡¯d rather get it done with.¡± Leaving Nick to sleep until the last minute, they tightened down the straps of their packs to make them as small as possible, and Eli walked Mara through the best knot with which to tie her own pack to her waist¨Cone she could undo easily if the pack became wedged. As Eli was reaching for Nick to wake him up, Mara stopped him with a hand on his arm. His gaze snapped to hers and she dropped her hand away. ¡°Sorry.¡± His brow furrowed with concern. ¡°What is it?¡± Mara swallowed hard. Swallowed again. The words clung to the inside of her throat like leeches. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°I¨C¡± She broke off and swallowed again. ¡°Mara.¡± He¡¯d lowered his voice. He did that often, treating her like a frightened, wounded animal. ¡°What is it?¡± Sucking in a deep breath, she forced the words out on a single breath. ¡°If I panic, you can spell me.¡± He physically shifted back, albeit not very far in the cramped space. ¡°What?¡± Now that the initial offer was out in the air, the rest came more easily. ¡°I really, really don¡¯t like small spaces. It¡¯s illogical. I don¡¯t even know why.¡± She did know why, but there wasn¡¯t time for sad, silly stories right at this moment. ¡°I might panic. I don¡¯t want to put Nick in danger, and I don¡¯t want you to have to leave me behind. I don¡¯t want Nick to be an orphan.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t leave you behind.¡± His eyes held hers, not persuasion but reassurance. ¡°And I won¡¯t need to spell you. You¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°But if I¡¯m not,¡± she said desperately. She needed to know that Nick would reach the other side, and that she would be there with him. Whatever it took, she needed to know. She stared into his eyes, let him see the depth of rabid, animal fear that roiled within her. ¡°You have my permission. Just this once.¡± He nodded, eyes fixed to hers. ¡°Alright. But I won¡¯t need to, Mara.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not so sure.¡± ¡°I am.¡± He glanced pointedly down at Nick. ¡°You ready?¡± No. Please, please no. Mara straightened her back and nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± ~~~ Crawling should be easy. Babies did it, after all. It was one of the first things they accomplished, after all the pooping and crying. Nick seemed to be faring alright, though perhaps that was Eli¡¯s magic more than her son¡¯s innate endurance. Mara, on the other hand, was faring quite poorly. She refused to say anything, refused to slow down, but she was not having any fun at all. In fact, if not for her very recent resolution to be less of a sniveling deadweight, she likely would have started weeping several minutes ago from sheer exhaustion. Even her fear had been burned away by the relentless fire of exertion. Her hands hurt. Her wrists hurt. Her knees hurt. Her feet, somehow, despite not having a job except to drag along behind her, hurt. Her waist hurt, where the rope connecting her to her pack was secured. Her neck hurt, apparently not up to the task of keeping her giant head aloft in this slightly-different-from-the-normal anatomical configuration. Her back hurt. Her shoulder didn¡¯t hurt, at least. Ahead of her, Nick was crawling along steadily, stopping every so often when he caught up to Eli, who seemed to be struggling about as much as she was. Maybe more. That gave her some comfort, although it was a qualified solace. He was bigger, after all. And pushing his pack rather than pulling it, which looked like an awkward and labor-intensive effort. When she¡¯d asked, back when they started and his struggle became immediately apparent, why he didn¡¯t just pull it behind him like she was, his answer threatened had to crack her newfound emotional equilibrium. ¡°The passage gets narrow,¡± he¡¯d explained in short, clipped sentences, already breathless from the effort. ¡°We¡¯ll have to crawl on our bellies. The pack¡¯s bigger than me. Might get wedged. I want to be behind it. Push it through.¡± The passage did, indeed, become extremely narrow. She was forced to lay on her belly and drag herself forward on her elbows, which added ¡°elbows¡± to the litany of body parts that hurt. The only thing that saved her from quitting entirely and simply laying down to die, was that Eli had slowed down too. His method, from what she could make out, was to drag himself right up to his pack, shove it forward with one arm, and then shuffle up again, shove it forward. His halting movements meant she was a little faster, and when she and Nick got too close to his feet, she allowed herself a brief respite, head cradled on her folded arms, while he gained some more ground. As they inched forward, she wished for some of that earlier sense of drifting from the earth. She¡¯d have liked very much to leave her body for a while. But she remained stubbornly tethered, acutely aware of each cramping muscle, of the burn in her lungs, the chafing of the rope, the heat of exertion that seemed to gather in the small pocket of air around her and radiate back into her flushed skin. As time went on, she lost her connection not to her body but to her mind. She became a thing of foggy pain and feeble effort. Cramping back, shuffle forward, rest. Smarting waist, shuffle forward, rest. Burning lungs, shuffle forward, rest-but-just-not-long-enough. She was so absorbed in her miserable little world, she almost didn¡¯t notice when the air grew cooler, brushing soothing fingers across the back of her sweaty neck. She blinked open her eyes and lifted her face from her arms, where she¡¯d been resting. Without her noticing, the walls had expanded outward, the ceiling rising up. There was room enough to walk again, albeit a little stooped. Ahead of her, Eli continued to inch forward¡ªshuffle shuffle, press; shuffle shuffle press¡ªand she supposed she couldn¡¯t hold it against him that he hadn¡¯t noticed either. ¡°Eli,¡± she tried to call out, her voice coming out a croak. His rhythm didn¡¯t falter, so she cleared her throat and tried again. ¡°Eli.¡± He stopped, dropping his head down to rest on his forearm. ¡°Hm?¡± His voice was muffled. ¡°We¡ª¡± She broke off and cleared her throat again. ¡°We¡¯re through. We can walk.¡± She watched his back rise and fall on a bracing breath, and then he lifted his head, looked from side to side, then over his shoulder at her. It was hard to tell with the light between them, strung on a small length of twine around Nicky¡¯s neck and swinging beneath him, but she thought she saw the flash of a smile in his eyes. ¡°Good catch.¡± She looked back over her own shoulder. ¡°Not that good. It¡¯s been this way for a while.¡± He dropped his face back to his forearm with an exhausted laugh, and she took the opportunity to do the same. And for the next few moments she wasn¡¯t a grieving widow or even a deluded one. She was just alive, basking in the cooler air and the relief of having survived, listening to her companions breathe and marking time by the sweat as it dried off her skin. (12) Inventory After the narrow passage, the rest of their journey through the tunnel passed quickly and easily. Eli had taken the time, once they both recovered their breath, to heal her various aches and pains, as well as the small chafe marks on Nick¡¯s hands and knees, and when they set out again they adopted a leisurely pace. ¡°We¡¯ll have to wait for nightfall to leave,¡± Eli explained. ¡°So there¡¯s no rush.¡± Around midday, according to Eli¡¯s watch, they reached the foot of a staircase similar to the one they¡¯d descended from the Hive. The steep stone steps loomed overhead, gray stone fading to a pitch black maw as they ascended out of range of the small light. In the shadow of the stairs, they ate, drank, and then slept in shifts. Mara slept first, pillowing her head on her pack with Nick snuggled into her side. She expected a struggle, what with it being midday, but the darkness and the exertions of the night were apparently enough to trick her body into thinking it was time to rest, because she plunged directly into a heavy, dreamless sleep. Only seconds seemed to have passed before Eli was shaking her awake. He handed her his watch as she sat up, rubbing at her eyes, and she squinted down at the face. She¡¯d slept for six hours. ¡°Wake me at eight,¡± he said, and she agreed. He¡¯d let her sleep for a disproportionate amount of time, and Mara added ¡®guard shifts¡¯ to the growing list of things to monitor and manage. Just because she¡¯d become the kind of person who needed rescuing didn¡¯t mean she was incapable of taking her share of night shifts. She was a mother, after all¨Ca practiced hand at not sleeping. Relatively short though it was, her shift began to feel long after around fifteen minutes of sitting alone in the dark silence. When boredom percolated into edgy fear, she pulled her pack toward herself. Aside from the few items she¡¯d tossed in when they fled, it had been over a year since she¡¯d seen the contents of this bag. Surely an inventory was a prudent use for her time. Better, at least, than sitting and stewing in her thoughts. In addition to the items she¡¯d grabbed as they ran out the door, the bag had been stocked for survival. She had a fresh pair of pants, two fresh shirts, and a half dozen pairs of socks. There was also a knife, a flint, and a tin box of tinder. A length of fishing line and a hook. A thick blanket rolled around a sleeping mat and lashed to the bottom of the pack. One of the outer pockets contained a basic toilet kit¨Ctooth powder, toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a bar of harsh soap. She gnawed on her lip as she studied the meager supplies. She ought to have grabbed at least one bar of her good soap. Neither her skin nor her hair would appreciate the lye. The second of the three outer pockets housed a rudimentary physik¡¯s kit. Bandages, protective balm, and three small stoppered vials¨Cone with a red-painted cork, one blue, one green. The red was a universal code for pain relief. Blue always marked rejuvenatives, and green typically identified potions intended for digestive issues. The final outer pocket, to her relief, offered forth a map and compass. She unfolded the map eagerly across her knees and studied it, trying to guess the path they¡¯d take to The Ripshaws. The quickest, easiest route was undoubtedly out of the question, as it would carry them out of Loftland into acres upon acres of Order-controlled farmland. Mara still found it hard to believe that the Order would leverage even a fraction of its might to find the widow of a dead rebel, but she understood that Eli¡¯s intent was to act with caution, which meant avoiding any place under effective Order control. That included the farmland. Instead, she guessed, they would stick to the forest, headed east to Ashfall. Those forbidding, heavily wooded hills, while technically under Order control, were also known to harbor bands of criminals. She¡¯d heard from other Order wives, as well as from Davy himself, that the town of Cinder was little more than a trading post for ill-gotten goods, though the Order didn¡¯t bother with it beyond sporadic raids. Davy¡¯s theory was that the Order let Cinder stand because it consolidated all the contraband and stolen goods from the Midway route in one place. Much easier to raid a few establishments in Cinder than to send units out into Ashfall to hunt down small bands. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Mara had never asked, because she knew he couldn¡¯t tell her, but she guessed Cinder was likely a hotbed for rebel activity as well. Perhaps they would stop there before turning north. If they traveled north from Cinder, the hills of Ashfall would ultimately deposit them on the banks of the Great Ribbon. They¡¯d have to ford the river somehow, and after that she couldn¡¯t guess which way they would travel. North by some route, toward the Ripshaws, but there was a westerly route across the Moro Plains that consisted mostly of grassland, and an easterly route that passed through the forbidding Smokestacks woodland. Both options seemed equally dangerous to Mara. She cursed her lack of knowledge, of worldliness. She¡¯d only been outside the city walls twice in her life, and had never traveled farther than a few days¡¯ ride from the Capital. The first time she was five years old, and she barely remembered the trip, except for her father¡¯s hunched back and red-rimmed eyes, her mother¡¯s casket lashed down in the back of the wagon. They¡¯d buried her in her home village, a quiet little hamlet along the banks of the Great Ribbon. There had been no celebration or meeting with old family. They¡¯d slept at an inn and returned home early the next morning and Mara had slept most of the way, her head pillowed on her father¡¯s leg as he drove the empty wagon. The second time was more recent and sharper in her memory, about a year into her marriage. Knowing how badly she wanted to see the world, Davy had begged and pleaded and traded his way into a signed pass for the two of them to travel north to Bedford. They¡¯d ridden on horseback¨Ca novelty for her¨Cin the shadows of the snow-capped Trinity. Bedford, while unmistakably Order-controlled, was a stunning city of granite stone and spiked towers, its history too rich, carved too deeply into the architecture for even the Order to wipe free. They¡¯d slept that night with the windows of their room thrown open the mountain winds and made love as if war and rebellion were in the past, gone down with the sun behind the jagged peaks. But beyond those two adventures¨Cone solemn, one hopeful¨Cher knowledge of the world outside the city was limited to what she read in books. As resolved as she was to be useful on this journey, she was in truth helpless. She knew plants, but she¡¯d never slept out of doors, never had any need to learn field craft. She couldn¡¯t fight, she couldn¡¯t hunt, she had no innate magic. Without Eli, she would be utterly lost, lacking both the knowledge of where to go and the skill to get there. She studied the map for the rest of her shift, committing every river, every town, every mountain to memory. At eight o¡¯clock, she kept her distance and said Eli¡¯s name, reaching out with a foot to nudge at his leg. Davy tended to wake violently when he was roused from a dead sleep, never lashing out at her but always jack-knifing up with a gasp, hand grasping at his side for a weapon that wasn¡¯t there, eyes wild until they found hers. She¡¯d learned it was best to keep her distance, lest he feel crowded. Fortunately, Eli didn¡¯t seem to share Davy¡¯s struggles with sleep. It was almost as if he hadn¡¯t been asleep at all, just resting his eyes. They flipped open when she said his name and he sat up, rubbing at the back of his neck. ¡°Time to go?¡± In lieu of answer, she handed the watch over and he flipped it open, squinting at the face. He sighed. ¡°Time to go.¡± ~~~ Maria¡¯s plan to interrogate Eli about their route while they climbed the stairs fled her mind almost immediately. Though not as arduous as their journey through the narrow tunnel, the ascent was brutal. Within minutes, she was soaked in sweat, her legs on fire with exertion. They stopped often, but the stops were never conversational. They merely slumped on the steps, gulping water and panting for air before beginning again. That¡¯s how she spent the time, anyway. She¡¯d gone so deeply within herself, Eli could have spent each break singing pub songs and she wouldn¡¯t have noticed. It took an hour, and by the time they reached the top her legs were no longer burning but numb and heavy. When the steps ended, not at a door to freedom but in another tunnel, Mara was too weary to despair. ¡°Rest here,¡± Eli said, handing her Nick, and she sat without argument, not bothering to shrug out of her pack. She leaned back against it, letting her head fall forward as she fought to regain her breath. When Eli didn¡¯t sit as well, she frowned up at him in question. He nodded his head down the tunnel. ¡°The Order doesn¡¯t usually patrol this deep into Loftland, but I don¡¯t want to take chances.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°If I¡¯m not back in an hour, turn back.¡± The thought of traversing that tunnel, Nick in tow, by herself¡­ ¡°Okay,¡± she said, ignoring the dread simmering in her belly. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to, so be¡­ be safe.¡± He nodded grimly and was gone, once again leaving the light with her. (12.5) The Quiet Game To Mara¡¯s relief, Eli returned well within the hour. Barely twenty minutes had passed before the sound of footsteps heralded his return. He tromped through the tunnel with a great deal more noise than he did when they were walking together. Perhaps he did it for her benefit. ¡°It¡¯s clear,¡± was all he said when he took a knee beside her. ¡°I¡¯m going to wake Nick up. I don¡¯t think the forest will frighten him.¡± She hoped he was right. Nick¡¯s somnolent quiescence was a heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders, and the thought of bringing him out of his stupor brought a well of gratitude and hope rising up in her chest. Nick loved to be outside with his hands in the dirt. Knowing she ought to take him to the park more often had become one of those constant, nagging voices in the back of her mind. Part of the chorus that sang songs about her inadequacy as a mother and wife. She nodded her approval and shook Nick awake, smiling when he blinked his big green eyes open and found her in the darkness. ¡°Mama?¡± His voice was small, scared. As much as she hated to hear the fear, she relished in the clarity. ¡°Yes, my love. Are you ready to go for an adventure?¡± He sat up, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. He looked to her, then to Eli. ¡°Where?¡¯ ¡°We¡¯re going on a trek, Nick,¡± Eli said. ¡°Have you ever been on a trek?¡± Her son shook his head silently. ¡°You¡¯ll love it,¡± Mara piped up, helping her son to stand and offering him a drink of water. ¡°Your dad used to love treks when he was your age.¡± ¡°Dada?¡± Her chest pinched, and she rubbed it away with the palm of her hand. ¡°Yes, he used to go on all kinds of treks, didn¡¯t he, Eli?¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°All kinds of treks,¡± he echoed. ¡°Through forests and deserts and mountains. Would you like to see the forest, Nick?¡± Nick hesitated and then nodded, looking to Mara. ¡°Walk.¡± ¡°Okay, love. You can walk. Would you like to hold the light?¡± He nodded. She draped the twine-wrapped crystal around his neck, and they set off down the tunnel, slowly to accommodate Nick¡¯s smaller steps. ¡°Soon we¡¯re going to come to a ladder,¡± Eli said to Nick, who trotted along at his heels. ¡°I¡¯m going to climb the ladder and open the secret door. Then you¡¯ll come after me, and your mom will follow. You like to climb, don¡¯t you?¡± Nick nodded so hard he staggered, and Mara reached down to keep him from careening into the wall beside him. It was hard to tell in the shadows, but she thought she saw Eli¡¯s cheek dimple with a repressed smile as he nodded. ¡°Okay, good. After we go through the trap door, we¡¯re going to play a game where we see who can be the most quiet. Have you played that game?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Alright it goes like this. We¡¯re going to walk as quiet as we can and we¡¯re not going to talk. If anybody makes a noise, they get a point. Whoever has the fewest points when we finish with the game gets to eat one of the cookies I got from Sister Beth.¡± ¡°Cookies?¡± Nick breathed, already whispering. ¡°Mmhm. They have caramel in them. Do you agree to the terms of the game?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Eli looked over his shoulder at Mara. ¡°Do you agree to the terms of the game, Mara?¡± She smiled. ¡°I suppose.¡± Alright. Remember, we start when we reach the top of the ladder. Nicky, I¡¯m going to have you ride on my shoulders for a little bit once we start, okay? That way you can pay close attention to the noises and help me keep track of the points.¡± ¡°¡®Kay.¡± Just as Nick answered, they rounded a slight bend, and Mara saw the ladder he¡¯d been referring to. It wasn¡¯t very high, to her relief. Maybe twice her height. Not so high that she wouldn¡¯t be able to catch Nick if he fell. As planned, Eli went up first, pushing open the trap door overhead. Once he¡¯d crawled through the opening, he leaned down and she passed his bag up to him, and then her own. Then Nick climbed up, a little too fast for her liking, but within seconds he was safely in Eli¡¯s arms and it was her turn to clamber up out of the cool, still darkness of the tunnel into the wet, messy moonlight of Loftland. (13) Loftland Mara¡¯s first thought as she shrugged into her pack and took in the forest around her, was that the quiet game Eli had devised was more necessary than she¡¯d expected. She hadn¡¯t spent any time in the woods, but she knew the way the city¡¯s parks sang with insect songs after dark. These woods were like a library, like the city during a snowstorm. Soft, worshipful silence all around. The second thing she noticed was the damp. Although it was cool, the air clung to her skin and formed coils out of the loose tendrils of hair at her ears and the nape of her neck. Her boots sank deep into the spongy earth, and the silhouette of every surface¨Cevery tree trunk, every stone¨Cwas softened by a thick layer of moss. The third thing, which perhaps should have been the first, was the immensity of the trees. She¡¯d known they were big. Davy had described them to her¨Chow one could form a chain of a dozen men, arms outstretched, and still not wrap around the base of the largest Loftland fir. None of these were that big, but even so¡­ it was so different to see it than to hear about it. She felt like a child gazing up at her parents. Like she was standing at the feet of gods. Turning her attention back to her companions, she saw that Eli had replaced and covered the trap door, which was half-hidden already between a large rock and a rotting log. He¡¯d also donned his own pack and was hoisting Nick up to ride on his shoulders. The enchanted light had been snuffed out and stowed before they climbed the ladder, but enough moonlight streamed through the trees that she could make out the shapes of things if not the details. She could see Nick¡¯s hands clasped in Eli¡¯s hair, the keen excitement on her son¡¯s face. She joined them and rose up on her tiptoes to tweak Nick¡¯s hat so that it better covered his ears and button up his little wool coat. Spring in these parts was a time of crisp nights. When she stepped back, Eli caught her eye, his own little more than sparks in the darkness. She nodded, following as he stepped off into the darkness. The forest floor was surprisingly free of vegetation, their boots scuffing through a thick carpet of fallen needles, snapping the occasional twig. She wondered if Nick was doing his job, keeping a tally of noises when she walked too close to a sapling and broke off a branch. He must be. He loved being given little tasks like that and he always performed them with a sense of purpose that reminded her keenly of his father. Shrugging off that thought, she turned her attention to the woods around her. The quiet, unlike the quiet of the tunnels, wasn¡¯t oppressive. It wrapped the rest of her senses in cotton batting, soothed her frayed nerves. She tipped her head back as she walked and studied the canopy, through which she could just make out wispy scudding clouds, flickering stars. She couldn¡¯t find the moon, but its light limned the branches of the trees and suffused the forest with a softness to match the quiet. As she walked, more at peace than she had been since Davy left for his patrol, her stubborn, fretful mind turned away from the forest itself to the legends she¡¯d heard of it. Ferals made their homes here¨Cgreat lawless packs of them, uncivilized and innately immune to magic. The Order held them up as emblematic of the great evil of shadow-casting, but Mara knew better than to believe that propaganda. Shadow-casters had nothing to do with the ferals. Their magical resistance was an inherited trait, not a spell. Shadow-casting didn¡¯t work en masse the same way persuasive magic did. If it did, the Order never would have been allowed to rise to power in the first place. She didn¡¯t believe the bit about the ¡®why¡¯ ferals existed, but she did believe the rest. Davy himself had come home with stories of feral attacks. Of tangled hair and animal eyes, clothing made entirely of mismatched animal hides, sharp teeth, crude weapons. Bloodlust. And what else had he told her? Tales of giant wolves, taller on all fours than a grown man, and of spiders with bodies the size of dinner plates. He told her about the golden birds¡ªthe Sight-Snatchers¡ªthat sat on high branches, eyeing passersby, and how 99 times out of 100, they¡¯d sit in silence and once they¡¯d dive, pluck out some poor fool¡¯s eyeball, and then fly away. Once, the Order had put out a command to hunt them all down, but nobody had ever managed to shoot one. Looking around, stretching her senses out to capture the song of the ancient trees, Mara wondered how this place and the Loftland of legend could possibly be the same. She trusted her intuition. It had never led her astray. And her intuition was not singing a song of warning to her here, of eyeball-napping birds and mammoth wolves. It was singing a song of peace. Of safety. Eli, too, seemed to be at ease, which further enhanced her sense of security. His stride was as relaxed, unhurried, and though he seemed to have his senses tuned, head occasionally quirking as if listening, he didn¡¯t have the same alert tension he carried when he was leading them through the city, or even through the tunnel. They walked for a longer uninterrupted stretch than they had at any point before. Two hours, perhaps three. If Nick grew bored at any point, she couldn¡¯t tell. He sat tall atop Eli¡¯s shoulders, looking about him as if the forest itself was reading him a story. Mara let her own mind settle into a walking meditation, using the breathwork to tune herself into the forest¡¯s rhythm¡ªa slow pulse beneath her feet. When they stopped, she and Eli spread their jackets on the damp ground and sat, and the mossy earth cradled her weary body better than the finest leather armchair. She leaned back against the mossy tree trunk with a sigh. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Okay,¡± Eli said, his voice a low murmur that snaked through the silence rather than breaking it. ¡°Who do you suppose won the quiet game, Nick?¡± Nick, who stood between them, one hand pressed to the trunk of the tree, looked to Eli, then to Mara. She raised her eyebrows. He looked back to Eli. ¡°Mama?¡± Eli chuckled. ¡°No, your mama snapped that branch, remember? And I coughed.¡± ¡°Me?¡± Eli nodded, and Nick plopped happily onto his bottom, delighted grin shining up at Mara like a little sliver of the sun. ¡°Good job, my love,¡± she crooned, tweaking his cheek. Eli made a show of digging through his bag for the cookies, and Mara noticed the way he pulled one out, making sure to open the bag all the way, revealing how many were left. ¡°Clever,¡± she murmured dryly as Eli handed the cookie over and Nick crushed it immediately in clumsy hands, crumbs raining onto his lap. The corner of Eli¡¯s mouth turned up, but he didn¡¯t answer, ¡°This place feels safe,¡± she admitted, trying again for conversation. As much as she loved her son, watching him mangle a cookie wasn¡¯t the stimulation she needed after hours of silent walking. ¡°It is. This part of it, anyway.¡± ¡°Why the quiet game, then?¡± He leaned back against the tree trunk, eyes lazily scanning the trees. ¡°Order patrols, mostly. We were already beyond the usual routes, but I wanted to be sure.¡± ¡°How are you so sure, now?¡± He picked up a duo of dead needles and spun it idly. ¡°The forest is safe, but not passively so. It¡­ patrols itself, I guess you could say. Some areas it¡¯s ceded, nearer to the edges, like a peace treaty with the outside world. But the deeper parts are protected. You can¡¯t come here unless the forest allows it, and Loftland would never let an Order patrol survive so far beyond the woodline. A little chill of foreboding¡ªthe first she¡¯d felt since climbing up the ladder¡ªran up Mara¡¯s spine as she looked around. ¡°How are we allowed to be here?¡± Eli tossed the needle aside, handing Nick his water flask to wash down the cookie. ¡°It trusts me.¡± Mara shook her head. ¡°Nope. No more vague nonsense. You need to speak to me like an adult. Answer my question in more than three words. Please. And speaking of which, now that the silent game is over, what is the plan? Where are we going? How are we getting there? How long will it take? What other secret skills and magical allies are you hiding up your sleeve?¡± He didn¡¯t answer for a long moment, his gaze not on her but staring vaguely out into the trees, brow furrowed in thought. She thought, uncharitably, that he might be puzzling out how best to keep her in the dark. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said finally, eyes flicking to her before returning to the distance. ¡°Old habits. What would you like to know first?¡± Mara was a little disappointed in the easy capitulation. She¡¯d prepared a whole argument, with numbered points. That was how she and Davy used to do it, when they had big gripes. A few of their arguments turned into prolonged debates, like the great Sleep Training debate of Nick¡¯s first year of infancy. She enjoyed the arguments, the back and forth. But, to be fair, she also enjoyed winning and apparently she¡¯d won this one. ¡°Where are we going?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll head east,¡± he said, no hesitation, ¡°through Loftland, for about ten days. Maybe more, depending on how quickly we¡¯re able to move. We¡¯ll leave behind Loftland for Ashfall, though there¡¯s no marked border, just a change in the terrain and the trees. From there it¡¯s a week or so to Cinder¨C¡± ¡°I knew it!¡± Mara exclaimed, and at his raised eyebrow went on. ¡°I suspected, I mean, that Cinder was in rebellion hands.¡± He coughed out a laugh and shook his head. ¡°Cinder belongs to no one. But that means it also doesn¡¯t belong to the Order so we can restock there without risking capture.¡± ¡°And after that?¡¯ ¡°After that, we¡¯ll turn north, toward the Ribbon. That leg will be the longest, maybe a month. Ashfall is harsh terrain, and gets harsher, nearer to the river. We¡¯ll cross west of Clearwater to avoid routine patrols and take the cliffside route up to the plains. I¡¯ve got a contact near the river who will sell us horses, so it¡¯ll be less than a week¡¯s ride from there to the Smokestacks. We¡¯ll follow the east fork of the Green River through the Smokestacks up into the Ripshaws, at which point I honestly don¡¯t know what route will take us to the enclave. There¡¯s a guide who lives at the foothills who¡¯s meant to meet us and tell us the way.¡± Mara chewed on what he¡¯d said, matching it against the map she¡¯d drawn in her mind. It gave her some confidence that she¡¯d been able to at least deduce which direction they would head. ¡°And the forest,¡± she said, waving a hand at the trees. ¡°What do you mean, it trusts you?¡± He shifted his back against the tree and breathed a thoughtful sigh. ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain, truly. There¡¯s a potent magic here, a sort of sentience. I did something a long time ago that Loftland decided it liked. Ever since, it¡¯s offered me safety.¡± She stared at his profile, anger welling up inside her. What about Davy? she wanted to scream. At him, at the forest. But she couldn¡¯t scream the words, or even say them calmly, because Nick was right there. Even so, Eli seemed to hear her desperate plea. ¡°We were nearer the wall,¡± he said quietly, contrition in every syllable. ¡°There¡¯s less old growth there. Less magic. It tried to help, but there are limits.¡± It was a long time before she could speak, and when she finally managed the words were laced with acid. She didn¡¯t want to ask Eli any more questions. Didn¡¯t want to add any more flesh to this character while Davy¡¯s image in her mind was just beginning its long, slow decay. Someday, there would be nothing left but bones¨Ccalcified, colorless remnants of what had once been a vibrant life, a love that had brought her to her knees. But the alternative to knowing Eli better was not Davy. The alternative was loneliness which, in this great, empty, sentient forest, made the animal within her balk. ¡°What was it you did?¡± she asked. ¡°That Loftland liked so much, I mean.¡± Eli pulled in in a breath and took the water flask back from Nick. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you while we walk.¡± (14) More Vague Nonsense ¡°You saved a deer.¡± Perhaps if there¡¯d been less bitterness still swimming in her blood, the information would have delighted Mara. As it was, she was merely confused. She peered up at Eli, convinced he was mocking her, or maybe just trying to lead her astray, but the bashful tension on his face was genuine. His eyes darted to her, then away, as they walked abreast through wide, meandering corridors of the forest. ¡°I saved a deer,¡± he repeated. ¡°Why?¡± He couldn¡¯t shrug, not with Nick perched on his shoulders, but he wobbled his head from side to side in an approximation of the gesture. ¡°I don¡¯t know, really. Habit? I was kind of a soft kid. Used to take up strays. And when my magic began to manifest, healing animals was good practice. I could fix a shattered leg on a horse or a broken wing on a bird, and they wouldn¡¯t go to the Order running their mouths.¡± Mara understood that, the first part anyway. She, too, had taken up strays as a girl. But she didn¡¯t want to tell him as much. It felt important, critically important, that she not give him anything of herself. Her trust in him was a fledgling thing, a product of necessity. All she truly knew of him was that Davy trusted him and that Beth said he would keep her safe. And that a sentient forest¨Cit was sentient, she could sense that much now that she was paying attention¨Chad apparently decided to trust him as well. ¡°So you came across a wounded deer and instinct just took over?¡± she prodded, dryly. ¡°Something like that. It was during a patrol, back when Davy and I were just cadets. I was young. I knew how to hold back my magic, how to hide it, but healing magic has a way of building up when you can¡¯t use it. I was still developing the skills to let that pressure off as often as I needed to.¡± ¡°So you came across a wounded deer and instinct just took over,¡± she repeated. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And now Loftland loves you.¡± ¡°¡®Love¡¯ might be a stretch. Now Loftland trusts me.¡± Content with the answer, for now, Mara turned her attention back to their surroundings. Though the sun hadn¡¯t yet risen, dawn teased the forest with tendrils of mist that formed around their knees and ankles. ¡°What time is it?¡± she asked, and he reached into his pocket and handed over the watch. She held it up so the moonlight hit the face, squinting to make out the location of the hands. ¡°It¡¯s five thirty,¡± she reported, handing the watch back over. He waved a hand. ¡°Hang on to it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not important to you?¡± If it wasn¡¯t, it ought to be. She turned the watch over in her fingers, admiring the craftsmanship. It was high quality, heavy and solid, the gears all but silent. The case was even etched, with some design that caught the moonlight, silver flashing at her in the shape of mountains. ¡°It is, but you¡¯ll take better care of it than I do.¡± He seemed to hesitate, lowering his attention to the forest floor. ¡°It was a gift.¡± From whom, he didn¡¯t say. Didn¡¯t need to. ¡°Maybe Nick could have it when he gets a little older.¡± Mara¡¯s fist clenched around the watch, the hinges digging into her palm. She wanted to throw the watch at him. Wanted to scream. Davy can pass down his own treasures to his own son in his own time! ¡°Besides,¡± Eli said, ¡°you ask about the time so often, it¡¯s more efficient for you to keep it.¡± She forced herself to smile. Forced herself to thank him. Forced herself not to hurl the precious offering into the woods. He didn¡¯t speak again, and neither did she. They walked into the dawn, swirling mists giving way to low shafts of sunlight that set the entire forest to glittering. Her unjust anger dissolved with the morning dew, leaving her with the same peace she¡¯d felt the night before. The forest floor shimmered gold beneath her feet, and warmth bathed her cheeks as the sun rose high enough to peek through the trees. As if awakened from a dream, Nick began to chatter. No sentences, not even many words. Just noises¨Chappy squeaks and delighted giggles, tuneless little songs and thoughtful hums. Mara began to forage, more from instinctual curiosity than from intent. She found a Holinberry bush and broke a branch off, passing it up to Nick so he could pluck the deep purple berries himself. Then a flash of white caught her eye, and she darted over to the small tangle of vines nestled between the roots of a tree. ¡°Lugmort!¡± she exclaimed, carefully extracting a few of the delicate white blossoms from the dense skein of thorns and slipping them into the tin she always kept in her jacket pocket. ¡°Pretty name,¡± Eli said dryly, from somewhere behind her. ¡°Hmm,¡± she hummed in agreement. ¡°Ironic, because it¡¯s a a beautiful plant, isn¡¯t it?¡± She stroked one of the tiny green-black leaves in gratitude and popped back to her feet. ¡°Nothing is better for infection than a tincture of lugmort.¡± The more they walked, the more she found--whistleaf, trillblossom, ronobon, slistaph¡ªand an idea began to form in her head. A goal that helped to focus her tattered mind. They stopped to eat a small breakfast and she sketched out a rough plan, based on the plants she¡¯d seen so far and what she knew she had in her kit. It would be a rough brew--far from the ideal combination of herbs. Ronobon root paired best with cat¡¯s tail, but the odds of finding cat¡¯s tail here were slim to none. It preferred cold arid climates like the high desert north of the Bedford plateaus. But in lieu of cat¡¯s tail, she could substitute willibut and ringfeather, which she¡¯d definitely be able to find. She¡¯d already seen some ringfeather, twined around the trunk of a sapling. Willibut would take some doing, but if she could find the elusive mushroom in the city park¡ªwhich she had on several occasions¡ªshe could find it in the forest. The rest of the recipe was just an ordinary serum base, and she could make that out of any common cooking herb, though gods¡¯ breath would be best. She¡¯d keep an eye out for that as well. Her plan thus formed, she inhaled what was left of her food, ignoring Eli¡¯s curious looks. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I can carry Nick for a while,¡± she said as they gathered up their packs to continue. ¡°If you¡¯re getting tired.¡± He shook his head, scooping her son up with a happy squeal¡ªNick¡¯s, not his¡ªand setting him atop his shoulders. ¡°We¡¯ve got a system worked out.¡± The system, she couldn¡¯t help but notice, consisted mostly of Nick yanking on Eli¡¯s hair and drumming his heels against the man¡¯s chest every time he got overexcited. But Mara wasn¡¯t going to argue. She was dreadfully out of shape, and the mere weight of her pack was getting heavier throughout the day, new hotspots forming on the balls of her feet. And though she loved her son and wanted him close, the thought of being a good mother to him, of engaging with his constant chatter, made her head hurt and her heart falter. Even before Davy died, she¡¯d been a little tired. Nick was in everything. Concern for him permeated every waking moment, and often her dreams. His voice, his cries, feeding him, changing him, entertaining him, occupied the vast majority of every day. Her life, which before had been so rich with adventure and meaning, had been compressed down to this single, heart-clenchingly important task. And lately she¡¯d begun to feel as if she was drowning, losing herself in it. She¡¯d confessed her feelings to Davy once, a month back, and he¡¯d assured her it would get better. ¡°Once he starts talking,¡± he¡¯d said. She¡¯d nodded and let him hold her and said he was probably right, but she¡¯d wondered. Would it truly get better when her son learned to talk? When he stopped napping and stayed up later and filled every moment of every day with questions that demanded real answers? Or would it get worse? So, for all that it made her a wretched mother, she was happy to let Eli carry her son. To let Eli point out the little animals that scurried across the forest floor. Let Eli make up stories about the squirrels and the chipmunks and the homes they made for their families within the hollows of the trees. Let Eli hum in agreement when Nick babbled nonsense. Let Eli notice the foul odor or a dirty diaper and call a halt. She changed her son, of course. She cleaned him and carried the dirty diaper to a nearby stream, scrubbing it until it was clean and hanging the damp cloth from her pack to dry as they walked. But Eli watched Nick while she performed the chore. She didn¡¯t have small hands tugging at her shirt while she worked or a small voice in her ear, growing steadily more frantic if she didn¡¯t immediately turn her attention from her task to him. She was a wretched mother, it was true. But she couldn¡¯t help but feel relieved. They walked all day, at a slow but steady pace. Mara mostly kept quiet, focused on the plants around her. She found god¡¯s breath almost immediately after lunch, but willibut and ringfeather were elusive. The forest was largely unchanging, though the trees grew the longer they walked. When they stopped for an early dinner, they sat in the long shadow of a tree as big around as her house. ¡°I wonder how old they are,¡± she said, resting her palm against the rough bark. Eli passed her a heel of bread. ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered that too.¡± ¡°The forest hasn¡¯t told you? I thought you were Loftland¡¯s chosen.¡± He rolled his eyes, but otherwise chose to ignore the latter half of her question. ¡°These woods have always had a distinctly feminine flavor to them.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Mm. Isn¡¯t there some pithy little piece of folk wisdom? Never ask a woman her age?¡± A laugh bubbled out of her, but she choked it back, choosing to let the conversation die and focus instead on eating. Davy had always made her laugh. He considered it his job, he once told her, to put a smile on her face and bring the spark back to her eyes on weary days. And he¡¯d performed his self-appointed duty with admirable consistency, with steadfast determination, and with keen skill. Making her laugh was Davy¡¯s job. And maybe someday, in a future that lay beyond the horizon, she¡¯d be ready for someone else to fill the position. But today was too soon to be laughing with someone else, no matter if that someone else was only trying to help her. To Mara¡¯s quiet relief, they only walked another hour after supper before Eli announced they were stopping for the night. He unstrapped a length of canvas from Davy¡¯s pack and began to construct a shelter. Mara, needing both distance and a sense of purpose, took Nick and went off in search of firewood. She expected some sort of admonishment to stay within earshot when she announced her intent, but Eli merely nodded and continued working. Where the morning sun had cast a glittering sheen, the evening sun seemed to infuse the forest itself. Everything glowed with warm light, even as the air grew crisp. Nick scampered about, dropping more sticks than he was picking up, and Mara¡¯s heart filled with the sun¡¯s golden-red glow as she watched him. His dark hair and glass green eyes, so like his father¡¯s. His joy, his innocence, that sweet, toothy smile he flashed her as he held up a stick for her to admire. How could she ever have wanted time away from him? Arms full, heart light, she led the way back to camp. Eli had finished constructing the tent and had a small fire already burning, though she was grateful to see he hadn¡¯t amassed more than a small stack of kindling, so her contribution wasn¡¯t utterly redundant. She knelt beside the fire and deposited her armload of firewood beside his pile of kindling. ¡°Do you feel safe here alone?¡± Eli asked as she added a few of the smaller branches to the fire. ¡°If I left for an hour or so?¡± She peered up at him in expectant silence. He frowned back. ¡°The vague nonsense,¡± she reminded him, when it became clear he wasn¡¯t picking up her own vague nonsense. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over the back of his head. ¡°I have a cache of supplies, south of here. I don¡¯t need to go. It¡¯s nothing we can¡¯t live without until Cinder. But there¡¯s a bow, some fire-starter, other odds and ends that would make life easier....¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t we just swing south together?¡± His face scrunched and he dropped into a crouch so they were eye to eye. ¡°It¡¯s feral territory, south of here.¡± Tendrils of ice formed around her spine and she stared at him. ¡°You said we were safe here.¡± ¡°We are,¡± he said quickly, holding out his hands. ¡°They¡¯re not¡­¡± He reached out and tugged his discarded pack closer, sitting on it. ¡°What do you know of the ferals?¡± ¡°That they¡¯re dangerous,¡± she said, her voice taking on a loathsome, hysterical edge. Eli winced, but nodded. ¡°They can be. But they¡¯re not just a lawless, formless mass of monsters. They¡¯re not really feral, to be truthful. They form bands that have their own customs and laws, not unlike our towns and villages. Some are fairly brutal, especially nearer to the periphery of the forest. They have to be that way, to survive and defend themselves against folks coming in, looking for game or timber.¡± ¡°And this band whose territory we¡¯re close to now?¡± ¡°They''re peaceful. And we¡¯re not close. We¡¯re miles away from the boundary of their territory.¡± ¡°But you didn¡¯t want to take us near them?¡± He sighed. "They¡¯re wary of outsiders.¡± She raised a brow. ¡°But not of you?¡± He didn¡¯t answer, except to lower his head and scrub his hand once more over the back of his neck. ¡°Let me guess,¡± she said. ¡°You happened upon a wounded feral in the woods and instinct took over?¡± Another sigh. Another small, sheepish smile. ¡°How many allies did you manage to accrue before you learned to control your magic, Eli?¡± ¡°A few.¡± ¡°Enough to get us to the Ripshaws, I hope,¡± she teased, because his expression was so much more serious, more guarded than it should be. Like he¡¯d actually done something wrong. His answer was a relieved, grateful smile. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± She sat back on her heels, watching the fire catch on the sticks she¡¯d brought. ¡°You¡¯re sure we¡¯ll be safe here while you¡¯re gone?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t leave you if I wasn¡¯t certain.¡± She didn¡¯t relish the idea of being alone, but it also wasn¡¯t as daunting as it could have been. She did feel safe here, even knowing how close they were to feral territory. And she didn¡¯t think he¡¯d lie to her outright. Not about this. ¡°Go on, then.¡± She waved a hand. ¡°But be back by dark.¡± ¡°Might be a bit after.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Be back by a bit after dark, then. I¡¯ll keep the fire burning.¡± (15) The Dream Mara wasn¡¯t where she ought to be. She ought to be in her sleeping roll. When Eli had returned from his supply run, she¡¯d been too tired to do much more than crawl into the shelter, curl her body around her son¡¯s, and plunge into slumber. Now, she was in a bed, the feather mattress and soft cotton sheets an unmistakable contrast to the soft earth of the forest floor, and the stiff, scratchy wool of her blankets. The decadent comfort was the first sign that something was amiss. The second sign was that she felt no fear, despite not being where she knew she ought to be. Her mind strove for alarm, having fallen asleep in one place and woken up in another, but the soft warmth of the bedding soothed her anxiety. Instead of panicking, she stretched and then snuggled deeper into the pillow like a contented cat. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m dreaming,¡± she murmured to herself, unwilling to open her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re definitely dreaming.¡± The mattress beneath her shifted with a familiar weight. ¡°Davy?¡± She ought to be shocked by the sound of his voice, but she wasn¡¯t¨Cthe third sign, incidentally, that all was not right in the world. ¡°Yes, my dear.¡± A warm hand cradled her cheek and stubble brushed the bridge of her nose, tickled her eyebrow as he visited a soft kiss upon her forehead. ¡°Go back to sleep.¡± The mattress shifted again as he stood, and she sank into the softness, enveloped in a residual, radiant warmth she recognized instinctually as his. As she had so many mornings before, she basked in the leftover warmth of his body heat as she listened to him prepare for the day. The splash of water, the rhythmic scrub as he lathered shaving soap across his face, the scrape of the razor. More splashing water. Fabric rustling, the clink of a belt. The edge of the mattress dipped once more, and his hand curled around her shoulder. ¡°Time to wake up, Mara love.¡± Without opening her eyes, lest she shatter this illusion, she reached up and clasped his hand, wrapping it in both of hers. She ran one hand down the back of his arm, soft hairs tickling the side of her hand. ¡°I thought you were dead,¡± she confessed, and his fingers squeezed hers. ¡°I know, sweet. But it¡¯s time to wake up.¡± ~~~ ¡°Mara?¡± A hand jostled her shoulder and she jerked awake with a gasp, blinking in the darkness. The hand fell away, and the shadows above her came together into a face. Familiar, but not achingly so. ¡°Time to wake up.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± she croaked, sitting up. ¡°I slept in?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Sun¡¯s just rising, but I¡¯ve got a fire going. There¡¯ll be tea and breakfast. Take your time getting ready.¡± She lay for a moment, staring at the slanted roof of the shelter. The dream had been so real, she didn¡¯t even feel as if she was waking up. More that she¡¯d passed from one room into another. And the memory of the dream didn¡¯t thin and drift away in tatters, like dreams usually did. It stuck in her head¨Cthe sensations, the sounds. Davy¡¯s voice. His touch. Not like a dream, but like a memory. A recent memory. It was mostly likely a product of her grief, she decided. And her exhaustion. Not to mention, it had been a dream based on real memories, on an oft-repeated ritual, which perhaps explained why it didn¡¯t drift away. It would probably be better not to think about it anymore, so she unearthed herself from her sleeping roll, leaving Nick still breathing in soft, slow, sleepy puffs in the warm cocoon. The crackle of the fire greeted her as she emerged from the shelter, but she stumbled away from the warmth and into the woods for a moment of privacy. Her hair had come loose from its braid while she slept, and after relieving herself she spent a long, frustrating few minutes trying to detangle it with her fingers before giving up and tying it back in a messy mass of tangled curls. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Eli didn¡¯t speak when she returned, merely handed her a steaming tin cup. She shrugged off her jacket and spread it on the ground by the fire, sitting cross-legged and letting the warmth radiate into her achy bones. Sip by sip, the tea brought her stiff mind back into motion and she decided she was wake enough to attempt conversation. ¡°So¡­ you got everything you were looking for?¡± She hadn¡¯t registered much the night before, except that he had returned, which meant she was no longer alone, which meant that she could go to sleep. Now, she found herself curious what had been worth the journey. When he nodded, she prodded further. ¡°What all did you have stashed away?¡± He shrugged, nodding toward his pack which did look a little more full. A crossbow she didn¡¯t recognize was strapped to the side. ¡°The bow was what I really wanted, but there¡¯s some fishing gear and about ten pounds¡¯ of copper Crit, and a physik¡¯s kit. One of yours, actually.¡± She perked up at that, but when he pulled out the kit to show her, she found it was one of the healing bundles she¡¯d put together, far less robust than the one she already had. Still, it warmed her to know that Eli¨Cor, more likely, Davy¨Chad thought to include a kit of her own design in the cache. ¡°Where to today, then?¡± she asked after he¡¯d stowed the kit. She could sense that he didn¡¯t really want to talk to her, but she found herself grasping for the sound of his voice, for a few words¨Clike she was shipwrecked in a stormy sea and their little conversations floated by like flotsam. Not what she truly wanted, but enough at least to keep her afloat if she really clung to them. ¡°More of the same.¡± He tipped his head to the east, where the sun had yet to peek above the obscured horizon. Eli was odd about his words, she thought. He wasn¡¯t quite reticent, or sparing when there was something that needed to be said. But if nothing needed saying, getting him to offer more than a sentence of conversational debris was like prying stones from packed earth. ¡°Why copper?¡± she asked, searching for a line of questioning that might invite a more robust answer. He seemed willing enough to talk when she had questions, and she¡¯d take a little exposition if that¡¯s what it took to drown out the clamor of her own thoughts. ¡°Gold would have been lighter. More trading power for less weight.¡± ¡°Gold¡¯s not much good outside the Triad.¡± The rough triangle formed of Bedford, the capital, and Clearwater was under strict, unwavering Order control. Beyond the rough boundaries of the Triad, enforced civility began to fray. The Order still held power, but the force needed to maintain that power was more overt. More violent. ¡°It¡¯s more a novelty than a legitimate currency. Most traders will accept it, but it catches the eye and draws suspicion. Copper is more common.¡± They descended once more into silence. Mara finished her tea, and he offered her more. ¡°How long have you known Davy?¡± she finally asked, curious as much for the answer as the way he offered it. She anticipated vague nonsense, which would further enforce the need for her plan and reinvigorate her foraging efforts. ¡°He only ever told me you were a friend and a fellow rebel. He never said how you knew each other. How did you meet?¡± If she¡¯d meant the question as casually as she asked it, she wouldn¡¯t have noticed the way his body tightened with her words, face gone still and blank. For a long breath, the only movement in him was the dance of the fire in his eyes. He never looked at her. She wondered if he would answer. ¡°We were children together.¡± Vague, as she¡¯d expected. But not as vague as she¡¯d expected. Her heart clenched. ¡°Oh. I¡­¡± Surely she could manage more than that. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Though what she was sorry for, she couldn¡¯t quite say. For asking? For not knowing? For assuming incorrectly? For the loss of a childhood friend? For wrapping herself so tightly in her own grief she hadn¡¯t even considered that he might be carrying some too? She slipped her hand into her pocket and ran a thumb over the face of the watch he¡¯d given her. Before she could decide what to say, or if she should say anything, he rose and left her sitting alone by the fire. By the time he returned, Nick was stirring and the sun had just begun to sparkle off the dew-scattered greenery. Eli didn¡¯t speak, and neither did she, but within an hour they¡¯d broken camp, fed themselves and Nick, and started the day¡¯s trek. Even without words, though, there was a new weight between them. A new understanding that Mara didn¡¯t think was solely a product of her own mind. She turned her attention outward, eyes peeled for the distinct pointed leaves of ringfeather, for the shadowed recesses of decaying logs where willibut liked to grow. And if her motivation was shifting¨Cif her plan was feeling more like something to occupy her time and less like necessity¨Cthat didn¡¯t really matter. She needed answers she could trust, and truth serum was the surest way to get them. (16) Willibut It took two and a half more days to gather the ingredients Mara needed to enact her plan. She found the ringfeather on the evening of the first day, just before they stopped for dinner. It was a small plant and she didn¡¯t need much, so she only took two of the small, feather-soft golden leaves. That night, she dreamt of Davy again. Again, she found herself in bed, but this time she was listening to him return home after a late patrol. She kept her eyes closed and her breath even as she always did, pretending she was asleep while he crept about in the dark, cleaning up. Just as he was slipping beneath the covers, palm sliding over her hip to cup her breast, warmth settling against her back, she woke. The next day, she found nothing. Rain smacked in fat, intermittent droplets against the top of her head just as they were breaking camp, and by the time they started walking, it had increased to a steady, drenching shower. Mara¡¯s well-oiled slicker kept her mostly dry, but by lunchtime little rivulets had crept beneath the hood and trickled down her neck to soak her collar. She spent the afternoon in a grumpy fugue, cold wet boots squishing over the bloated forest floor. She and Eli didn¡¯t talk, and even Nick had fallen quiet, bundled up in his own slicker atop Eli¡¯s shoulders. Nick always slept well in the rain, and she wondered as she studied his slumped form if the raindrops beating on the hood of his slicker had lulled him to sleep. She found neither of the ingredients she needed for her truth serum, mainly because she wasn¡¯t looking. All she could think about was the wet. The wet ground on which she was going to sleep that night. The wet clothing she¡¯d have to wrestle Nick out of in the cramped confines of the damp canvas shelter. The wet socks leeching all feeling from her toes and the bottoms of her feet. Mara was relieved beyond measure when they stopped to make camp an hour earlier than usual that night. According to unspoken agreement, Eli constructed their shelter while she gathered firewood, the only words exchanged a remark from her about the firestarter¨Chow glad she was he had it, since without it they surely wouldn¡¯t have been able to set a fire to the sodden wood. She crawled into the shelter before dark had fallen, taking Nick with her. Stripping them both of their wet boots and outer clothing, and drying them off as best she could, sapped her of what little energy she had left. Nick fell asleep while she was tugging off his damp socks, and she herself was asleep just as soon as she¡¯d unfurled the blessed, dry warmth of her sleeping roll and crawled between the blankets. This time, she expected Davy in her dreams. It was no shock to fall asleep into his arms, his heat at her back, rain lashing the roof over their heads. This was her favorite thing, the most glorious comfort she had ever known¨Cthe luxury of being warm and safe and loved while foul weather raged outside. Mara woke the next morning to sunshine, which meant not only that the rain had stopped but that she¡¯d slept in. She noticed the sun at the same moment she noticed that Nick was not beside her, but the sound of his giggle on the far side of the canvas slowed her heartbeat before it could realize it needed to race. Groggy and ashamed of her laziness, she crawled out of the shelter to find Nick and Eli sitting cross-legged by the fire, stacking flat rocks into a tower that collapsed just as she came into view. Nick giggled uproariously, chanting, ¡°Again, again, again!¡± and bouncing on his bottom. He didn¡¯t so much as glance at her. Eli, conversely, caught her eye and offered her a smile that she was too muddled by sleep and self-reproach to receive, let alone return. It only intensified her discomfiture when she returned from her morning privacy break to a steaming cup of tea and most of the work to break down camp already done¨Cthe shelter packed away, Nick dressed, and the fire doused. ¡°Where did you sleep?¡± she asked as she sat to drink the tea, already annoyed with the answer. Eli, who had been lashing the rolled-up canvas to the bottom of his pack, looked up with a frown. ¡°Me?¡± ¡°Of course, you. Who else would I be talking to?¡± ¡°I slept by the fire.¡± ¡°In the rain?¡± He blinked. ¡°I wore my slicker.¡± ¡°There¡¯s also a shelter. That you built. And you are carrying.¡± He blinked again, and it annoyed her all the more that his confusion seemed genuine. Was he going to make her explain it to him? She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her fingers. ¡°If anyone should be sleeping in the rain, it¡¯s me. You¡¯re doing all the work here. I thought¡­¡± What had she thought? That he¡¯d sleep in the shelter too? There was barely enough room for her and Nick. Eli finished with his pack and carried it over to where she sat, dropping it beside her and sitting down. ¡°I¡¯ve spent more nights outside than I have indoors,¡± he said, ¡°and in far worse weather than this. The shelter is for you and Nick.¡± She opened her mouth to argue, but he went on before she could speak, his eyes fixed to hers, sunlight illuminating streaks of amber in the somber brown. ¡°You think Davy would want me warm and dry while his wife and son slept in the mud?¡± She couldn¡¯t find the words to answer, but if she had it wouldn¡¯t have mattered. Nick interrupted, yanking on Eli¡¯s sleeve and drawing him away to investigate something crawling about beneath an overturned rock. She would answer, though, she decided. Once she had the right words. ~~~ If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Her effort to find the right words was driven from her mind just before they stopped for lunch, with the discovery of a massive cluster of willibut in the decaying trunk of a dead tree. Not a Loftland fir, but one of the smaller, leaf-bearing trees that grew here and there, stunted by the filtered sunlight of the high canopy. It hadn¡¯t fallen yet, its shattered trunk still upright, broken branches dangling like limp fingers toward the ground. She laughed in triumph when she peered into a rotted out tree hollow and saw the bright red caps, telltale black spots circling the rim like they were painted on by an expert craftsman. She reached in and plucked three fat mushrooms from the cluster, holding them aloft as she turned to face her companions. ¡°Willibut!¡± she exclaimed, to dubious reception. Eli narrowed his eyes as if concerned for her soundness of mind. Nick wrinkled his nose up and shook his head so hard he would have toppled from his perch if not for Eli¡¯s hand darting up to brace his back. ¡°For my serum!¡± ¡°Your serum?¡± Eli asked as she joined him and they resumed walking. ¡°My serum.¡± ¡°What serum is this?¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked,¡± she said, blowing the dirt off the stems of the mushrooms and tucking them into an oiled drawstring bag she¡¯d tied to the strap of her pack. ¡°It¡¯s for you, actually.¡± ¡°If you plan to poison me, you¡¯ve just ruined the whole scheme,¡± he drawled. She laughed, which didn¡¯t make her feel guilty. She¡¯d thought about it the day before and decided that she owed it to Eli to appreciate his sense of humor more than she owed it to Davy never to laugh again without him. And it¡¯s not like she was feeling joy. One could be amused without being happy. ¡°I don¡¯t plan to poison you. Not intentionally anyway.¡± ¡°How reassuring.¡± ¡°Would you like to hear my plan?¡± ¡°At this point, I¡¯d be a fool not to.¡± She took a deep breath, summoning up the small speech she¡¯d spent the last two and a half days preparing. ¡°Okay, so I find myself in a small quandary, in addition to the¡­ well, the larger quandary.¡± ¡°And I am the source of your secondary quandary?¡± ¡°Well, yes. Sort of. The thing is, you¡¯ve been nothing but kind. Nothing but heroic, really. You¡¯ve given me no reason not to trust you. Except for that initial¡­ thing.¡± ¡°The small matter of my controlling your mind repeatedly without your permission. I remember.¡± ¡°Right. That. But aside from that, you¡¯ve been good to me. Good to us. And I think it¡¯s going to be important that I trust you, and that we get along, as we continue this journey. I want to trust you.¡± ¡°I want that too.¡± ¡°Right. Well, the thing is that I don¡¯t. And it¡¯s not your fault. Well, except for¨C¡± ¡°--that initial thing,¡± he supplied dryly. ¡°Right, well except for that initial thing, it¡¯s not your fault that I don¡¯t trust you. I just don¡¯t know you. I barely even know about your friendship with Davy. Which is a shame, because it seems like you were important to him, and he was important to you. What I¡¯m saying is that I want to know you better, so that I can trust you. But in order to know you better, I have to trust you. It¡¯s a whole¡­ a whole¡­¡± ¡°A whole quandary?¡± ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a whole quandary.¡± ¡°And your solution to this quandary?¡± ¡°I¡­ well, I thought I¡¯d brew up a truth serum.¡± ¡°I see.¡± He didn¡¯t sound terribly surprised. Maybe he already suspected what she was doing. It would have been obvious if he had even a rudimentary understanding of herbal magic. And she got the feeling that Eli was one of those aggravating people who passed through life collecting casual expertise. When he didn¡¯t say more, she rushed on. ¡°If you¡¯re not comfortable taking it, that¡¯s okay. We¡¯ve gotten along well enough so far, and¨C¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± She stumbled over her own feet and had to take a couple awkward steps forward before she regained her stride. Once she trusted her footing, she turned to study his face. ¡°You will?¡± He nodded, shifting Nick on his shoulders and glancing over at her. ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s important that you trust me. And I am trustworthy, at least as far as I know. I¡¯ve got no reason not to take it. Other than the fact you¡¯re brewing it up using a field kit and have no way to test those mushrooms you just picked.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯ll be safe. It will!¡± she said indignantly, when he cast her a dubious look. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing, and I know willibut for depths¡¯ sake. The markings are unmistakable.¡± He huffed, and their feet rustled through fallen needles for a few long moments before he spoke. ¡°I do have one condition.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°In the event this concoction doesn¡¯t outright kill me, and you¡¯re able to ask your questions¨C¡± ¡°It¡¯s not going to kill you!¡± ¡°If it doesn¡¯t, please don¡¯t push me on anything it seems like I don¡¯t want to answer.¡± Her heart sank. The whole purpose of the truth serum was to ask him questions¨Ca purpose which would be defeated if she had to let go of questions he didn¡¯t want to answer. ¡°I can¡¯t think of many questions you could have that I wouldn¡¯t be able to answer. I¡¯m only mentioning it as a precaution.¡± ¡°Eli,¡± Mara sighed. She wouldn¡¯t push him into it, but she also wasn¡¯t going to go to the trouble of brewing the potion if she had to cater her questions to his preference. ¡°There¡¯s really no purpose to it if I¡¯m letting you hand-select the questions you want to answer. It¡¯s fine. Let¡¯s just not do it.¡± He didn¡¯t speak for a few steps, their boots continuing to crunch over dry twigs and needles. ¡°I¡¯m oathbound. There are things I cannot say. But they¡¯re specific things that I can¡¯t imagine would be important to you. You can ask if I support the rebellion, whether I¡¯ve ever betrayed it. Whether I have or would ever betray Davy. You can ask whether I intend to deliver you safely to the Enclave. I believe there are enough questions I can answer to put your mind at ease. I¡¯m just asking that if you ask a question I seem reticent to answer, please walk away from that question. I don¡¯t know how oaths interact with the serum you plan to brew, and I¡¯d rather not be incapacitated by some magical blight so early in our journey.¡± She gnawed on her lip, considering, though there wasn¡¯t much to consider. His argument made sense. ¡°Okay,¡± she finally said. ¡°You have a deal.¡± ¡°Wonderful,¡± he answered, and if he didn¡¯t sound excited, she couldn¡¯t really blame him. Mushrooms were a bit of a dice roll, if she were being honest. Even willibut. (17) Truth Serum That evening, around when the sun sank low enough to warm the back of Mara¡¯s head, Eli transferred Nick to her shoulders, told her to keep the sun behind her, and disappeared into the woods to the north. He returned an hour later with two hares, already skinned and dressed. ¡°You preparing a feast?¡± she asked, trading him her son¨Cwho was much easier to carry than she¡¯d expected, but nonetheless made her neck ache¨Cfor the hares. ¡°I¡¯d like to die with some meat in my belly.¡± ¡°Deep depths,¡± she groaned, rolling her eyes skyward. ¡°For the last time, the serum is not going to kill you.¡± ¡°Not intentionally.¡± ¡°Or accidentally. I¡¯m more competent than that. Worst case scenario, you get a bit of a belly ache.¡± ¡°Vomit myself inside out, you mean.¡± ¡°But not so much you die,¡± she said, nodding cheerily. With an exasperated sigh, he stopped and plucked Nick from his shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s get these hares cooked before I lose my appetite.¡± They meat the hare into thin strips and roasted it over a small fire, eating quickly before smothering the fire and setting back out. Eli had explained their first day in the woods that it was best not to bed down where they ate dinner, but it felt odd to her, getting up to move after they finished eating. Dinner was a door one closed at the end of the day to separate public time from private time. One did not put on shoes and venture out between dinner and bedtime. It just wasn¡¯t done. That night, it took Eli even longer than usual to find them a suitable campsite, which was odd since there wasn¡¯t much to distinguish one part of the woods from another. At least not to Mara¡¯s eye. ¡°Are you doing this on purpose?¡± she asked, after the third rejected campsite. ¡°Doing what?¡± ¡°Taking eons to find somewhere to stop. If you don¡¯t want to take the serum, you don¡¯t have to. There¡¯s no need to be sneaky about it.¡± ¡°I want to take the serum. The ground back there was just uneven.¡± ¡°And the spot before?¡± ¡°That branch overhead was about to fall.¡± ¡°Mmhm.¡± ¡°Here¡¯s good,¡± he declared, speeding up to lead her to a group of three Loftland firs that had grown together, so close the roots of one were indistinguishable from those of another. ¡°Out of the wind.¡± It wasn¡¯t windy, but Mara kept that observation to herself. Following their established pattern, she took Nick with her to gather firewood and returned to find the campsite as she expected¨Cshelter erected, small fire burning. She fed the fire until it crackled and spat, and then left Eli to tend it while she prepared Nick for bed. Nick had grown used to her crawling right into the blankets with him, so she had to lay on the mat for a while, cuddling him close while his breath grew deep and slow. When she was sure he was asleep, she carefully extracted herself from the blankets and crawled back out into the night. Eli sat by the fire, staring into the flames. Bringing her pack with her to sit on, she joined him. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this?¡± she asked softly¨Cearnestly, she hoped. He flicked his gaze to her then back to the fire. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want you to feel you have no choice. Serums are dangerous when they¡¯re administered without true consent, and even if they weren¡¯t, I have strong beliefs about this sort of thing.¡± He sighed. ¡°You have my consent.¡± She expelled a breath and clapped her hands on her thighs. ¡°Then I¡¯d better get started.¡± She extracted her ingredients from the bag, setting the gods¡¯ breath leaves to simmer in a tin cup while she prepared the rest. The ronobon root she washed, scraping away the outer layer with her knife before crushing it between two rocks. To the pasty result of that exercise she added the wilted ringfeather leaves, crushing them as well until the two came together into a thin mush. She scraped that into the bottom of the second tin cup, then scooped out the flesh of willibut caps, sifting carefully through what she¡¯d extracted to make sure it contained no flash of red. If anything in this concoction threatened her victim¡¯s life, it was the red skin of the willibut mushrooms. Though she really didn¡¯t think it would kill him in such small quantities. Just make him miserable for a while. ¡°The ronobon is the base of the thing,¡± she explained as she worked, mostly because she was starting to get a little nervous herself. ¡°It has powerful compulsive properties. But it can be a bit, uh¡­ maddening? I guess you could say?¡± She didn¡¯t dare look up, but she could feel Eli¡¯s gaze burning into the side of her face with that announcement. ¡°It¡¯s a stimulant, I mean. On its own. So if you want to make a truth serum, you combine it with a relaxant. Cat¡¯s tail is the best, because its efficacy is roughly the same as ronobon root, so they balance each other nicely. But that doesn¡¯t grow here, so I¡¯m using ringfeather and willibut instead. It¡¯s not quite the same, but ringfeather is a mental depressant and the willibut will calm the physical symptoms.¡± ¡°Physical symptoms,¡± he echoed, tone dry as a salt well. She winced. ¡°From the ronobon. Heart racing, sweating, shaking, that sort of thing. But that¡¯s the point of the willibut, is that you won¡¯t have those symptoms because the mushrooms will counteract them.¡± ¡°Mm.¡± ¡°Oh, we¡¯re back to grunting?¡± ¡°Words escape me.¡± ¡°Not for long!¡± she quipped. Even with everything that had happened, everything that was still happening, brewing excited her. Or maybe she felt so comparatively light-hearted because making the truth serum gave her a goal other than simply to stay upright rather than surrendering herself to the cool, forgiving depths. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Pouring the boiling gods¡¯ breath tea over the pasty mixture and swirling it with her knife, she looked up at Eli, who was playing the role of ¡®reluctant martyr¡¯ with uncharacteristic dramatic flair¨Call slumped shoulders and faraway looks. Not that she had any idea what was characteristic of Eli and what was not. Perhaps this obviously theatrical display was typical of him. It wouldn¡¯t be a complete departure from what she felt she truly knew¨Cnot if this was his way of masking genuine unease. ¡°Eli?¡± she asked, letting the knife rest in the cup. His gaze slid to hers. ¡°You know you don¡¯t have to do this. I didn¡¯t know you were oathbound when I hatched this idea. The last thing I want to do is put your life in danger.¡± He smiled, the expression flickering in his eyes before he turned them back to the fire. ¡°You¡¯re not putting my life in danger,¡± he said to the flames. ¡°I intend to deliver you safely. I wouldn¡¯t jeopardize that.¡± Mara¡¯s own mouth tugged into a smile. ¡°So you¡¯re just being morose for the gods¡¯ amusement?¡± His teeth flashed in a brief grin, eyes flicking to her and then back to the flames. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to kill me, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not frightened of you¡± Mara opened her mouth to answer the teasing note in his voice. Then she closed it. ¡°I have no intention of hurting you,¡± she said earnestly. ¡°I just want to ask you some questions and know that your answers are truthful.¡± A tall order, she knew, in a world where magic so routinely painted lies as abject truth. ¡°I know,¡± was all Eli said in response, and Mara wondered if he did, but didn¡¯t have time to ruminate. Some herbal mixtures used such powerful plants they required little of their brewers beyond a pair of hands to throw them all together. If she¡¯d had cat¡¯s tail, for example, this truth serum would practically have made itself. Without it, she needed to lend a little extra power to the relaxant element of the equation, which required concentration. Turning her attention back to the serum, Mara resumed stirring, breathing calm into the mixture as she stirred. She had been practicing in the tunnel, and in the days since they¡¯d emerged into Loftland, the magic came easier than it had in months. Still just a trickle, and at her most adept she¡¯d never have the instant, effortless command of an innate user. Nonetheless, she was able to conjure what she needed for this brew¨Cleaden limbs, contented sighs, heavy eyelids, warmth. She rocked herself half to sleep with her own meditation, and when she felt her own body began to sway in her seat, she knew that was enough. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, shaking herself awake. ¡°Last step. We¡¯re almost ready.¡± Securing a sheet of cheesecloth loosely over the top of the empty mug, she poured the contents of the other through it, filtering out the solid matter. She let it drain, then loosened the cloth and shook its contents into the fire. They hissed as they landed, transforming with a puff of angry steam into glowing curls of ash. Mara swirled the serum and breathed in the steam before holding it out to Eli. ¡°There you have it,¡± she declared. ¡°Field ready truth serum.¡± Eli took the cup and gazed down into it as if she¡¯d filled it with squirrel urine or horse saliva or some other bizarre and noxious substance. ¡°It really is safe,¡± she said. ¡°I promise. And I promise only to ask you questions relevant to our situation. I won¡¯t go digging around, and after you do this, I¡¯ll be a much easier travel companion. It¡¯ll be worth it.¡± He offered her a weak, half-hearted eye roll. ¡°You¡¯re not a difficult travel companion.¡± ¡°Good, good. Get the lies out now, while you still can.¡± With a single, exasperated snort, he tipped the cup up and took a sip. Lowered it with a dramatic wince. Mara cringed. ¡°Is it bad?¡± He smacked his lips a little and glared down at the cup. ¡°It¡¯s not good. Do I have to drink all of it?¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sorry. I wish I had some honey.¡± He took another sip and swallowed a cough. ¡°Honey wouldn¡¯t help.¡± Still, he dutifully drained the entire cup while Mara sat in respectful, cringing silence. ¡°How long does it take?¡± he asked, sloshing the gritty dregs into the fire and setting the cup aside. ¡°Not long. Maybe half an hour. Would you like some water?¡± She was already holding out a flask, which he took with a grateful nod. She watched him swish the water around in his mouth before swallowing. ¡°I really am sorry.¡± He waved off her apology and took another drink. ¡°Would you like something to eat?¡± ¡°No,¡± he laughed, shaking his head hard. He winced and rubbed at one eye. ¡°But thank you.¡± She studied him, tilting her head. ¡°Is it already working? Do you feel anything?¡± ¡°Other than nauseous?¡± ¡°Other than nauseous.¡± ¡°Then no.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± They lapsed into silence for a long time, nothing to fill the air but the crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of small creatures scampering through the dry needles. Behind them, slightly muffled by the canvas, Nick began to snore, and Mara¡¯s lips tilted up in a fond, reflexive smile. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± Eli didn¡¯t look away from the fire. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s working yet.¡± ¡°Not that kind of question.¡± ¡°Oh. Sure.¡± ¡°What was Davy like? As a kid?¡± She watched his answer as much as she listened for it, saw the way his shoulders unbunched a little, eyes staring deeper into the flames. ¡°Wild,¡± he said after a long moment of contemplation. ¡°Brave. Fun.¡± He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. ¡°He was always making up new games and stories, so every kid at the Enclave worshiped at his feet.¡± ¡°And were his¡­ were his parents good to him?¡± Perhaps it was purposeful, asking this when she knew he still had the capacity to lie. She wasn¡¯t sure if she wanted the truth. Not if it meant imagining her Davy, young and vulnerable, with parents who didn¡¯t care for him properly. Eli¡¯s expression drew inward, almost pained, and she had at least part of her answer. The part that made her chest hurt. He looked at her, and she realized she¡¯d pressed her palm to her sternum. ¡°They loved him,¡± he said, ¡°and they were proud of him. They never let him forget it.¡± Something in the answer felt like a lie, but not one she had the strength to challenge. Instead, she just pressed for more comforting lies. ¡°So he was happy? He had a normal childhood?¡± Eli grimaced, shoulders bunching and relaxing like he¡¯d felt something crawling up the nape of his neck. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it normal. There were the trials.¡± The trials, Mara knew, were a way of forcing children to manifest their magic early. Usually, innate users manifested around puberty, but enough stress could induce manifestation in children as young as three. The Order ran trials occasionally. The rebellion ran them of necessity. Mara didn¡¯t approve of the tactic¨Cwould never allow Nick to be put through something so ghastly¨Cbut she was familiar with the argument. Order officers entered the ranks as children, without exception. Infiltrating the ranks required child soldiers, and child soldiers needed weapons they were capable of honing. ¡°What were his trials?¡± she asked. ¡°Do you know?¡± Eli¡¯s brows drew together, shadowing his eyes from the firelight as he peered at her. ¡°You want to hear this?¡± No. ¡°Yes.¡± She thought it was convincing enough, but apparently he didn¡¯t agree, so she added, ¡°Please,¡± and hoped he heard the truth in it. Of course I don¡¯t want to know, but I feel as if I need to. He sighed. After tonight, she¡¯d endeavor not to make him sigh so much. ¡°He only had to endure three. Being left alone in the forest at night did nothing. Neither did small spaces. He¡¯d kill me for telling you, but it was spiders that finally pushed him far enough to manifest.¡± ¡°Spiders?¡± ¡°Many of them. But yes.¡± He was silent, and in the quiet she began to plan the dressing down she would deliver to Davy¡¯s parents once she finally met them. For frightening their innocent child. For treating him like a tool instead of a son. For sending him off into danger, so broken he thought it was just a game. For living in some distant, safe enclave while he risked his life for their cause. ¡°Mara?¡± She flinched. Looked to Eli, who still sat beside her, still perched on his pack, elbows on his knees. But his posture was looser somehow. Like someone had turned a crank and unwound all of his muscles just a bit. Just a turn and a half of the crank. ¡°Is it working?¡± ¡°I think so,¡± he said, blinking slowly at the fire. ¡°Ask me something.¡± She¡¯d already decided where she¡¯d start. She didn¡¯t know the answers to any of her big questions, so she wouldn¡¯t know if he was lying. Better to start small, with a question he likely wouldn¡¯t want to answer honestly, but she could accurately guess the answer to. ¡°Alright,¡± she said. ¡°Trial run. What¡¯s one bad thing about me that Davy used to tell you?¡± (18) Truth The serum was definitely working, Mara thought as she watched his eyes flare wide, his mouth open, then shut, jaw clenching. Unclenching. Clenching. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said, making her voice low and soothing. ¡°Just tell me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a bear in the morning.¡± The words exploded from his mouth, and he pressed his lips together the second they escaped. Mara laughed. ¡°And do you agree with Davy¡¯s assessment?¡± His brows snapped together, eyes pleading as they found hers. ¡°Relax,¡± she said. ¡°If you fight it, the ronobon is going to take over and we¡¯ll have a long night ahead of us. Just take a breath, answer the questions, and we¡¯ll be done before you know it. I promise not to hold any of your answers against you. You¡¯re doing me a favor here, remember?¡± ¡°I remember,¡± he mumbled. ¡°Good. You were going to tell me if you agree with Davy¡¯s assertion that I¡¯m a bear in the morning.¡± ¡°You are,¡± he said miserably. ¡°Or a badger, maybe.¡± She laughed. ¡°Thank you for your honesty. Alright, are you ready for the next question?¡± ¡°No.¡± She laughed again, watching him sway on his seat, eyes bleary. ¡°Would you like to lay down?¡± ¡°No.¡± Pressing her lips together, she nodded. ¡°Okay. First question. Did you betray Davy?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Did you ever consider betraying Davy?¡± ¡°No. Never.¡± ¡°Did you betray the rebellion?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Did you ever consider betraying the rebellion?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Her heart stuttered. ¡°When?¡± she asked, her voice small. ¡°Today. Yesterday. Every day since it got Davy killed.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± she whispered. ¡°What¡­ what are you going to do? Or what would you do? To betray the rebellion.¡± His hands clenched reflexively on the water flask. ¡°I¡¯m considering taking you and Nick south.¡± ¡°South where?¡± ¡°South to the sea. Across the sea. I have enough money to purchase passage on a merchant vessel. Set you up with an apartment in Ralin. Physiks work aboveground there. You could make a nice life for yourself.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re not sure?¡± she asked, seeing the indecision on his face. ¡°No. I don¡¯t know what Davy would want.¡± She¡¯d vowed not to get angry at him for any of his answers. It would be unfair, considering she¡¯d drugged him into honesty. But still¡­ ¡°What about what I want?¡± she asked quietly. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you asked me?¡± ¡°I was going to.¡± ¡°When?¡± ¡°In Cinder. There¡¯s a safe enough route, from there to Port Fear.¡± ¡°Why not ask before then, though? Why twist yourself up about this when it¡¯s not even your decision to make?¡± His jaw clenched again¨Canother answer he didn¡¯t want to give her. ¡°Eli,¡± she prodded gently. ¡°If you asked,¡± he said, his voice choked, ¡°I wanted to be able to advise you. On what Davy might say if he was here. I was putting it off, until I had a better idea how I could answer.¡± Her eyes grew misty, but she was unwilling to spend any time ruminating on why. She¡¯d already resolved not to unravel into a weepy mess. Not until they were safe. So it was better not to think too hard about why when her throat grew thick or her eyes fogged over. Better to just blink the tears away and breathe until the tightness in her chest eased its hold. ¡°Will you honor my wishes?¡± she asked. ¡°When we get to Cinder and it¡¯s time to make the decision? Will you take me where I want to go, regardless of what you think Davy would want?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Why? Why do you care at all about what happens to us?¡± He slid off the pack and leaned back against it, the toes of his boots dangerously close to the fire. ¡°You don¡¯t deserve what the Order would have done to you. Nick doesn¡¯t deserve to be an orphan.¡± ¡°That just explains why you got us out of the city. Not why you¡¯re so determined to do right by us.¡± He shook his head, blinking slowly at the fire. ¡°I cared about Davy. He¨C¡± He cut off, wincing, and squeezed the bridge of his nose. ¡°He loved you and Nick,¡± he concluded. ¡°What else could I do?¡± She didn¡¯t answer¡ªcouldn¡¯t¡ªand after a few long heartbeats of pregnant silence, he shook himself as if trying to rattle loose his brain. ¡°What else do you want to know?¡± ¡°Um¡­¡± What did she want to know? What could she possibly ask that would alleviate the twinge of reluctance still lodged inside her chest? ¡°Would you ever use persuasive magic on me again?¡± He turned his head and looked at her as steadily as he was able. ¡°Not without your permission.¡± ¡°You swear on your life?¡± ¡°I swear on my life,¡± he declared, a little drunkenly, ¡°never to use persuasive magic on you, or on Nick, ever again, without your permission. I¡¯ll take an oath on it, if you like.¡± Oaths, Mara knew, were tricky things¨Cstrong spells upholding uncompromising rules. Poorly executed, they could have disastrous consequences. Her own¨Cto Davy¨Cstill terrified her. She¡¯d been so young when she¡¯d taken it, felt so righteous in her sacrifice. But as soon as she¡¯d felt that magic in the back of her throat, she had known¨Cshe wouldn¡¯t take another oath as long as she lived. ¡°There¡¯s no need for that,¡± she said. ¡°Do you have my best interest at heart?¡± He dipped his chin in a single, emphatic nod. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And Nick¡¯s?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t lead us into harm?¡± He wrinkled his nose. ¡°Not intentionally. But it¡¯s a dangerous road.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t betray us? ¡°No.¡± ¡°Do you have any more secret abilities, magical or otherwise?¡± He let out a deep, weary breath. ¡°I¡¯m good at cards.¡± She blinked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°The first winter solstice you were married, you and Davy had a few of us over for supper. We played Roundstack. Davy had mentioned you¡¯re a sore loser and I wanted you to like me, so I let you win. But I¡¯m very good at Roundstack. All card games, really. I could have beat you.¡± She laughed, remembering the night in question, not sure if she should be charmed or insulted. ¡°You can¡¯t say that for sure, since you didn¡¯t even try. Maybe I could beat you fair and square. We¡¯ll have to have a rematch.¡± ¡°No, I know for sure,¡± he said, though his voice was strained, as if he was trying very hard to stem the words. ¡°You¡¯re not very good.¡± He dropped his face into his hand with a muffled groan. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing even harder. Who would have thought that this, of all the topics they¡¯d covered, would be the one that caused him the most distress? ¡°We¡¯ll have to see,¡± she said gently. ¡°Just a few more questions, I promise. And then I¡¯ll leave you alone to sleep this off.¡± He grunted without lifting his face from his hand. Maybe he couldn¡¯t. She might have overdone it a bit with the relaxants. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m a fool for not telling Nicky the truth? About Davy?¡± He lifted his head and his eyes found her face in the firelight, heavy-lidded and foggy. ¡°No.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think he deserves the truth?¡± ¡°He does. But you deserve to tell him when you have the strength to handle his grief as well as your own. If that means it needs to wait, it¡¯ll wait.¡± She¡¯d expected his answer to make her stomach hurt or her heart clench. Instead, it set a low fire burning in the center of her chest. Not bright or warm enough to light up the dark corners, but enough that she felt, for the first time since they¡¯d started on this journey, like something other than a cold and empty husk. ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered. ¡°For what?¡± She shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Understanding?¡± ¡°Oh. Well. Sure. Do you have any more questions?¡± She did. She had a thousand questions. But he¡¯d begun to slump inexorably toward the fire, and the water flask in his hand was angled so far to the side that splashes of water had begun to slosh over the lip. ¡°Just one more. Are you still keeping secrets from me.¡± He leaned his head back against the pack and shut his eyes. ¡°Yes.¡± She wasn¡¯t surprised, really. ¡°Do they have to do with me?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°With Nick?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Are there any you can tell me without breaking your oath?¡± His brow scrunched, and he rolled his head against the pack without opening his eyes. ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry.¡± She sighed, frustrated. ¡°Are these secrets going to make me angry when I find them out?¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± he grunted in sleepy contemplation. Then he shook his head. ¡°Maybe. But not because they affect you. You¡¯ll just feel like you were missing a piece of the puzzle. But it¡¯s not an important piece. It¡¯s just one of those middle bits you don¡¯t even notice is missing unless you look closely.¡± Mara sighed again, this time resigned. This was why Cat¡¯s Tail was better. It was easier to get the dosage correct, which she definitely hadn¡¯t done. She¡¯d clearly overdone it on the relaxants. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, pushing to her feet. ¡°Sit up.¡± When he obeyed, she dragged his pack farther away from the fire. ¡°Lay here. And don¡¯t put your feet towards the fire, angle them that way.¡± Grumbling, he shifted about on the ground so that he lay at a safer distance, sloshing water every which way until she removed the flask from his hand. ¡°Do you really sleep okay out here?¡± she asked. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Do you want me to lay out your sleeping roll for you?¡± ¡°No.¡± He was already half-asleep from the sound of it, and as she watched he shifted out his side, towards the fire and pointedly away from her. ¡°Okay¡­ Well, thank you.¡± ¡°Mm.¡± ¡°Good night.¡± ¡°Night.¡± She took her time getting ready to sleep, energized despite the hour. Her plan, rough as it was, had worked, soothing away the rough edges of distrust. Giving her some sense of control over her future and that of her son. Before, she¡¯d felt reasonably certain that Eli¡¯s loyalty to the rebellion would compel him at least to take her to the enclave safely. Now, she knew that his loyalty was foremost to Davy, and by association to her and Nick. Come Cinder, he¡¯d give her a decision. And whatever she decided, he would honor her choice. (19) Myth Mara dreamed she was on a ship. The surface beneath her dipped and swayed, a subtle rocking motion, and gulls cried just outside the small, circular window above where she lay. Yawning, she stretched her arms and legs, fingers and toes both brushing rough wood at either end of the narrow cot. The wall of the ship was to her left, a small chamber to the right, just big enough to stand in. Her pack hung from a hook on the wall, alongside another. The door squeaked open and Davy slipped inside, fully dressed and grinning. ¡°Morning, beautiful.¡± ¡°Thought I was a bear in the morning,¡± she teased, holding her arms up to receive him as he bent, lavishing kisses on the bare skin of her chest and throat. ¡°A beautiful bear.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s Nick?¡± ¡°With Eli, on deck. We¡¯ll make port around midday.¡± Mara wrapped her hands in his shirt and tugged him down until he fell atop her with a chuckle. ¡°Feisty this morning,¡± he observed, angling his body more naturally over hers. She wrapped her legs around the backs of his, raking her nails down his back. ¡°Just excited,¡± she admitted, ¡°and grateful.¡± ¡°Grateful?¡± he breathed against her collarbone, hot and damp. ¡°For what?¡± His lips trailed down between her breasts, and she she arched her back as he pulled the sides of her shirt open, planting open mouthed kisses in a spiraling path toward her¨C ¡°Mama?¡± Mara gasped, shooting upright, and the top of her head brushed against rough canvas. Clutching her blanket to her, she stared at Nick, crouching in the opening of the tent. She¡¯d slept in, judging by the play of the sun on his dark hair. Again. ¡°¡®wake?¡± Nick asked, resting his chin in his hands. ¡°Just about,¡± she croaked as she fought her way free of her sleeping roll. She ignored Eli, who knelt by the fire, as she made her customary morning pilgrimage to the privacy of the woods. When she returned, he handed her a cup of tea and she drank it as they broke camp. And so they fell into a rhythm that would see them through the next fortnight of slow, steady travel. They walked all day, from just after dawn to an hour before dusk, a little longer each day as the weather warmed with spring¡¯s progress and the sun took higher arcs through the sky. Some days it rained. Some it didn¡¯t. Some days Nick was cheerful, some days he fussed. Most days, Eli left them for a while in the early morning or late in the afternoon, when the sun made navigation easy. He returned, invariably, with some small game. Hares, quail, once a small turkey. For her part, with the truth serum done with, Mara began to forage more broadly and she found plenty of evidence to back up Eli¡¯s assertion that Loftland did not lend itself to starvation. Every day, she found something to add to their supper menu. Mushrooms, tubers, berries, leeks, nuts. Even when their bread and cheese dwindled, they ate well, and she plunged into sleep each night with a weary body and a full belly. Every night she dreamt of Davy. After the truth serum, she and Eli didn¡¯t talk deeply, but they maintained a friendly exchange, mostly revolving around Nick. Eli was good with Nick. Better than her, really¨Cmore patient with the endless babble, more creative in generating silly games and stories to entertain him. At first she told herself that it was just a novelty for him and that she, conversely, was worn down to a nub by two years of incessant parenting. But as the days stretched on, she admitted to herself that he might just be better at it than her. Unexpected, irritating notion. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you have kids of your own?¡± she asked one night after she¡¯d tucked Nick into bed, about a week into their journey. They sat on opposite sides of a small fire, drying their wet boots after a day of heavy rain. Though the sky above the canopy was clear of clouds, scattered with countless stars, the air still weighed heavy with excess moisture.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Eli reached forward and turned one of Nick¡¯s small boots so the damp side faced the flames. ¡°Never thought about it.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re great with Nick. Don¡¯t you want your own?¡± He flicked her a wry grin. ¡°Never thought about it.¡± She groaned. ¡°I ought to drug you again.¡± ¡°I think about that all the time.¡± ¡°Oh, stop.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°You know I wouldn¡¯t do that. Unlike some people, I don¡¯t practice magic without consent.¡± He placed another log on the fire, waving the resulting shower of sparks away from the boots. ¡°Is there a point at which you¡¯ll let that go?¡± ¡°Probably not. You¡¯re too perfect, I need something to hold over you. But back to my question, you truly never thought about having a family?¡± ¡°Never seemed a possibility, with the Order, the rebellion¡­¡± ¡°Davy made it work.¡± His face took on that careful, blank mask it always did when she wandered too close to sensitive subjects. ¡°Davy¡¯s situation was different. For all that he loved you, your marriage was part of the plan, not a diversion from it.¡± His use of the past tense¨Che loved you¨Cdidn¡¯t even make her flinch. The dreams were so constant, so uncannily real, she¡¯d begun to forget she was meant to be grieving. She didn¡¯t even mind when Eli spoke as if her husband was dead. To her, in her heart, he wasn¡¯t. ¡°I know that,¡± she said, ¡°but your part of the plan wouldn¡¯t have been strengthened by the cover of a family as well?¡± ¡°No,¡± he said simply, and she knew the conversation was over. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t.¡± * On the morning of the tenth day, Mara drew them to a halt when a flash of red drew her attention off to the south. She held a hand out to stop Eli and tugged on Nick¡¯s sleeve, putting her finger to her mouth to silence his chatter. When she pointed, both sets of eyes followed her gesture to the glimpse of crimson in the distant trees. ¡°Do you see it?¡± she asked Eli, wondering whether she should be frightened or curious. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as the spots of red coalesced into¨C Mara bit back a gasp. Her fingers tingled. The hair on the back of her neck rose up, chasing a chill down her spine. Rho deer. She¡¯d heard stories. Seen illustrations. ¡°I thought they were myth,¡± she breathed. Rho deer were purported to be unspeakably powerful, the only worthy prey of the old hunting gods. A relic of ancient times, of older, more powerful magic than could be found anywhere on the continents in the human age. A thin coat of Rho hide could ward against the deepest chill. A single drop of Rho blood in a rejuvenating tonic could revive an exsanguinated patient. A pinch of ground Rho antler, mixed into a simple affection serum, could cause the recipient to fall madly, irrevocably in love. ¡°I thought they were myth,¡± she said again. Eli merely shook his head. Even Nick was transfixed. Though he couldn¡¯t have truly understood the gravity of what they were seeing, he sat utterly still, his eyes wide and round, fingers clasped tight in Eli¡¯s hair as they watched the small herd move across the distant clearing. Though Mara had been doing the sensing exercises Eli recommended, she didn¡¯t need them to feel the magic that rippled out from the deer in concentric surges, like waves in a pond. There were only five¨Cthree does and two stags, one with a twelve point rack, the other much younger. Then a sixth came into view¨Ctiny, its coat a shade of rusty brown that evoked old blood. The others arrayed themselves around it as it nosed idly at a patch of undergrowth. I thought they were myth. I thought they were myth. Mara¡¯s brain stuttered and lurched. If anyone, anyone were to know these creatures existed, the whole of Loftland would be razed and plundered. A hunter who brought back a single Rho carcass would live like a king for the rest of his life. His children¡¯s children¡¯s children would live like kings on what remained when he died. If he died. Rho heart, it was said, could impart unnaturally long youth. ¡°We have to go,¡± she said, loudly enough that the deer stopped their idle meandering and froze, ears flicking. Their eyes caught the sun and flashed at her¨Cpure, silvery white. ¡°We have to go, Eli,¡± she said more urgently, driven by some impulse she didn¡¯t understand. A panic that lived at the base of her spine. The same panic that consumed her when Nick was first born, and she was too afraid to walk down the stairs with his tiny, vulnerable body in her arms, lest she drop him, fall on him, hurt him. Ruin him. She pushed at Eli¡¯s shoulder, and he complied, setting off again. Mara didn¡¯t look, but from the corner of her eye she saw the deer dart away into the safety of the deeper forest. They walked for ten minutes before anyone spoke. Even Nick sat in silence atop Eli¡¯s shoulders, solemn and still. And when the silence was broken, nobody mentioned the deer. They spoke, instead, of their grumbling bellies and when they might stop for lunch. During lunch, Eli regaled Nick with an installment of the series Mara referred to as ¡°Davy¡¯s Daring Deeds.¡± This one had something to do with river pirates, but Mara was only half-listening. Rho deer. What other legends were true, that she¡¯d never even tried to believe? Did the old gods walk among them? Could great waves rise up from the angry sea and drown the forests, turn the plains to briny lakes, render the great mountain chains to lonely islands? Did stars truly fall from the sky? What else was possible? What else was real? (19.5) Promise The night of the Rho deer, Mara arrived in her dreams with certainty that something more than grief and longing were at work in their construction. She opened her eyes to bright sunshine slanting across white cotton covers, her body sprawled atop a four-poster bed. She heard birds, and turned her head on the downy pillow to see an open window to the right. The air smelled of the mountains, and beyond the chattering birds she could hear the whistle of crisp wind. It did not escape her that she somehow knew the smell of the mountains despite never having been there. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± She turned her head to the left. ¡°Davy,¡± she said, unsurprised to find him lounging in the open doorway, eyes sparkling. ¡°Who were you expecting?¡± he teased as he prowled into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. ¡°You.¡± He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush a tangle of hair away from her face, and she took a moment just to look at him. At the proud sweep of his brows, the clarity of his green eyes, the ever-present tilt at the corners of his mouth¨Chis perpetual smirk. She sat, reaching out to smooth her thumb over the worry line between his brows, like she always did. She loved and hated that little line, that subtle proof that he didn¡¯t carry his burdens as easily as it seemed. Hated it because she wanted only ease and joy for the man she loved so much. Loved it because it spoke of his purpose, his strength. ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked, mirroring her gesture and pressing his thumb to the tension she felt between her own brows. ¡°I miss you,¡± she said, watching his easy expression falter and then fall. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He captured her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, his voice ragged. ¡°I am so, so sorry Mara.¡± ¡°I miss you.¡± He gathered her up in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin and rocking her like a child as she finally wept. Wept all the tears she hadn¡¯t since that first, devastated rush of grief at the Hive. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he murmured into her hair. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You left us.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°I love you.¡± ¡°I love you, too.¡± ¡°I miss you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Over and over, again and again, they repeated the litany as he rocked her and she cried. And perhaps it was a figment of the dream that when she finally pulled away from his embrace, night had fallen outside the open window. Or maybe she really had cried the day away. She guessed it was the latter. Her swollen eyes were hot to the touch, her chest and stomach aching from the constant heaving, gasping sobs. Davy had produced, somehow, a steady supply of fresh handkerchiefs to wipe her eyes and nose, but her face bore the dusty residue of tears, her nose sore and stinging. ¡°Lay with me,¡± Davy said, stretching out atop the covers and pulling her close. She went to him readily, resting her head on his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of what Eli had told her, all those days ago. Tried not to imagine the cruel edges of an arrowhead slicing through the strong, beating heart, silencing the lullaby. Living without him was an agony. How could she sleep, if his heart wasn¡¯t waiting in her dreams to soothe her? ¡°Where are we?¡± she asked, slipping her palm beneath the hem of his shirt to rest against the curve of his ribs. Her hands were cold, but he didn¡¯t flinch away from her touch. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Is this real?¡± ¡°It feels real.¡± She turned her attention back to the beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin against her palm. ¡°It does.¡± ¡°You know we can¡¯t stay forever.¡± She lifted her head and propped her chin on his chest, gazing into his clear green eyes. ¡°But I can come back tomorrow night?¡± He grinned¨Ca playful, inviting thing¨Cand she rose up, pressing a kiss to one side of his smile and then the other. ¡°If I¡¯m good?¡± ¡°Only if you¡¯re good. Find some happiness today. Promise me.¡± She kissed him again, on the tip of his nose. ¡°I promise.¡± When she went to lay back down, to rest her head once more on his chest and let the soft song of his heartbeat carry her into deeper dreams, she found herself blinking at sunlit canvas, her head pillowed on her own forearm. She rose, grumpy as ever but with a renewed sense of purpose. Tonight she would return to that four-poster bed, to the arms of the man she loved. She wouldn¡¯t ask questions of the gift she¡¯d been given. She would only savor it, making up for all the times when he still lived, when she had loved him but neglected to cherish him. When she had lain in his arms while her mind wandered elsewhere. The dreams were a gift. What more they were would surely reveal itself with time. For now, they were only a gift, and she would do anything not to squander them. So, today, she intended to do what she had promised. Today, she would find some happiness. (20) Smile On the fifteenth day in Loftland, just after their midday meal, the first hints of change tickled at the edges of Mara¡¯s consciousness. She¡¯d been practicing her sensing exercises¨Cas had become a habit during the long, calm afternoons. With Nick often groggy from his full belly and Eli dependably pensive in the silence Nick left, there was little to distract her. She often spent an hour or more in the pursuit of magical sensitivity, measuring her footsteps and her breaths, quieting her mind, and listening to the swells and eddies and undercurrents of the life around her. The skill had returned to her more quickly than she expected¨Cperhaps because she was able to dedicate herself so regularly to its cultivation, perhaps because Loftland was teeming with such potent magic. Whatever the reason, it often took her only five breaths to push her physical senses aside and listen with her spirit. On that day, the fifteenth day, it took her only seven breaths to feel the change. ¡°We¡¯re leaving Loftland soon?¡± she asked, letting the magic fade away as she turned to Eli, waiting for his response. ¡°We¡¯re leaving Loftland now,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s a slow transition into the hills. You sensed it?¡± He lifted his brows at her, inviting her to share what she had sensed. He did that sometimes, when she finished her exercises. Asked her what she¡¯d felt, encouraged her to describe it to him¨Ca common pedantic technique for magic learners. Finding the exact language for magical sensation was impossible, but attempting to so made subsequent attempts at sensing more fluid. ¡°Barely,¡± she admitted, nonetheless proud of her own progress. ¡°It feels like¡­like a distant smell. Like smoke, but you don¡¯t know if it¡¯s coming from inside the house or outside.¡± He nodded, then winced, reaching up to pry Nick¡¯s left hand from his hair. ¡°Easy, man. I¡¯ll be bald soon if you keep it up.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± Mara said, wincing in sympathy. ¡°It¡¯s no trouble. You said it¡¯s like a smell?¡± ¡°Not exactly, but something like that. It¡¯s as if the change is in the air, but only wisps of it. What does it feel like to you?¡± He was silent for several steps, little more than a single breath cycle, and she envied the ease with which he accessed magic that, for her, was far away and hazy. ¡°It¡¯s more like a sound for me,¡± he finally answered. ¡°Like a new voice just joined a chorus.¡± ¡°How soon before we leave Loftland for good?¡± She didn¡¯t truly want the answer. Not unless that answer was ¡®never.¡¯ She¡¯d found a cautious equilibrium in the safety of the woods and the monotony of their daily routine. In the promised return to Davy¡¯s arms each night. Would he still come to her when they reached Ashfall, or was his presence a product of Loftland¡¯s abundant magic? ¡°Two days, maybe three.¡± Mara bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to smile when Eli glanced at her to gauge her reaction. Every night, when she returned to the four-poster bed in the mountains, Davy gave her some task to complete the next day. First, of course, they talked. Or simply held each other. Sometimes more. But before she left, when dusk had fallen in their mountain retreat and she knew she¡¯d soon find herself back in her canvas shelter, he¡¯d kiss her gently on the forehead and give her some silly, sweet little assignment. Find happiness. Make Nick laugh. Be brave. Write in your Codex. Though he never said as much, she treated the tasks like a challenge, like her price to return. Last night, he had told her to smile.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Apparently, her smile was not convincing, because Eli was frowning at her in evident concern. She tried a little harder, deliberately crinkling up the corners of her eyes. ¡°Of course!¡± Eli reached up and tugged Nick¡¯s hand from his hair again. ¡°It¡¯ll probably be three days. The ground¡¯s already starting to slope, so we¡¯ll be moving slower.¡± Trust Eli to invalidate her efforts with his irritating propensity to see her. Trust Eli to know, without her saying, that she didn¡¯t want to make progress, not when each step left Davy¨Cliving, breathing, daylight Davy¨Cfurther behind her. ¡°Oh. Okay. Good.¡± She tried on another smile, this one less ambitious. Smaller. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re alright?¡± Eli and Nick were both watching her now, the boy¡¯s face marred by the same concerned lines as the man¡¯s. For a second, they could have been father and son. Different hair color, different eyes. Same worried expression. Children did that¨Cmirrored the adults they saw most often. By the end of this journey, Mara thought, Nick would resemble Eli more than he resembled his own father. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll carry Nick for a while.¡± Trust Eli to recognize that now was not time to argue with her. Without speaking, he lifted her son¨CDavy¡¯s son¨Cfrom his shoulders. Mara stooped so he could set Nick on her own shoulders, relieved to feel the familiar weight of his body fidgeting around, finding a comfortable seat on the top of her pack. She¡¯d wrangled her hair into two braids that morning, and Nick picked them both up and tugged absently at them as she walked. ~~~ That evening, after Nick was asleep, she joined Eli by the fire. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He drew his brows together and shook his head. ¡°For what?¡± ¡°I was curt with you this afternoon. You were just trying to help.¡± ¡°You want some tea?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± She watched in thoughtful silence as he prepared her a cup. They carried dried tea, but Mara had foraged more gods¡¯ breath over the last few weeks, and just yesterday had found some whipwillow. It was the latter Eli brewed for her now. Whipwillow was a good evening drink¨Ccalming. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said when he passed the cup over. ¡°You¡¯re¨C¡± She looked down into the cup. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s no trouble.¡± It was a little trouble, surely. She¡¯d watched the whole process¨Cstoking the fire, boiling fresh water, steeping the leaves. Preparing a cup of tea was a bit of trouble in civilized places, with stoves and pot-holders. In the wild, it was positively burdensome. ¡°So¡­¡± he trailed off, lifting his own cup for a sip. ¡°Your sensing is coming along nicely.¡± Unbidden, her posture straightened. ¡°It is! Loftland makes it easy, I think.¡± His smile was small¨Ca slight twitch of the lips. ¡°So does practicing every day.¡± ¡°That too. So what¡¯s the next step? Or¡­.¡± She frowned at his impassive expression. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m ready for the next step?¡± ¡°Do you think you¡¯re ready for the next step?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°I think?¡± He raised his cup for another sip of tea. She bit back a grown of frustration. ¡°Do you have to be so¡­¡± ¡°So?¡± He was being deliberately obtuse. Deliberately frustrating. She fought the grin that tugged at her lips and forced herself to glare at him. ¡°You know how you¡¯re being.¡± ¡°Are you ready or not, Mara?¡± She narrowed her eyes, intensifying the force of her glare. ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Good.¡± He set his empty cup aside and propped his elbows on his knees. ¡°I agree.¡± ¡°You¡¯re aggravating.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ve been told. Unfortunately, I¡¯m your only option for magical instruction at the moment.¡± Glowering, she took another sip of tea. ¡°My books were a better teacher.¡± ¡°Lucky for me, I¡¯m less flammable. Shall we get started?¡± Her false annoyance collapsed around her, fresh energy rushing in. ¡°Now?¡± ¡°Unless you¡¯re tired. We can start tomorrow.¡± ¡°No!¡± Unbidden, her cheeks pulled tight on a grin. ¡°Now! Let¡¯s start now!¡± (21) Be Bright The night of her first proper resistance lesson¨C¡±it¡¯s not really resistance so much as distraction¡± ¨CMara dreamt, of course, of Davy. They spent the duration of the dream in a tangle of want, forgoing the exchange of words for shared heat, mingled sweat, and the dance of limbs and breath. Davy spoke to her only once, as they lay in the rumpled sheets in a blissful, well-used haze. ¡°Be bright for me today, Mara.¡± Sometimes, it was easier to accomplish his tasks than others. The day she was meant to be bright¨Ctheir sixteenth day in Loftland¨Cthe change in landscape was no longer a subtle, magical thing. The canopy, once lofty and open, crept down throughout the day to hover dark and close above their heads. On the forest floor, a tangle of undergrowth rose up to meet the shrinking trees, catching her feet with vines and forcing their party to adopt a serpentine path to avoid thick brush and stands of densely packed vegetation. A bank of featureless gray clouds kept the air brisk and damp, well into the late afternoon. Even Eli changed, less talkative with Nick, face fixed in careful, neutral lines of practiced calm. With every little noise¨Cevery snapping branch, every flap of wings, every skittering animal¨Che tensed minutely, angling an ear toward the noise, unmistakably focused and alert. Be bright, Mara thought to herself, drawing Nick over to a small patch of Garden Pods. They crouched together, picking the ripe purple pods from the thorny green stems, and she showed him how best to split the pods, with one nail along the seam, and how to scoop out the sweet beans with his teeth. He made a mess of it, and she laughed as she wiped the mush from his face. Be bright. Davy¡¯s voice hummed in her ear when they stopped for lunch, and she drew a taciturn Eli into conversation. She¡¯d learned, during their time together so far, that two subjects worked best to rouse him from the pensive cloud he occupied whenever Nick was otherwise engaged. The subjects were healing herbs and field craft. ¡°I found this by the Garden Pods,¡± she said, holding a sprig of plumperry in front of his face. He blinked at it, then at her. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s plumperry. I told you about this one, remember?¡± He plucked it from her fingers, studying the stiff, evergreen leaves, the fat purple flower budding at the top that gave it its name. He twirled it once, took a sniff, and passed it back. ¡°For fevers. And swelling.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± she gushed¡ªbrightly. ¡°For fevers and swelling. Do you remember its reactants?¡± His lips pressed together, eyes narrowing. ¡°Poison cherry.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°Anything in the goldroot family.¡± ¡°And?¡± He shook his head, brow furrowed.¡°And?¡± ¡°There¡¯s one more thing. It¡¯s not a plant.¡± ¡°Oh. Right. Pregnancy.¡± Her questions answered, he went back to his previous task of leaning against his pack and staring moodily into the woods. Mara glanced at Nick, playing happily in a small creek a few feet away, and tucked the plumperry sprig back into her pocket. ¡°Is something the matter?¡± she asked quietly. ¡°And before you answer, remember you promised not to lie to me anymore.¡± He slid his eyes sideways at her. ¡°I don¡¯t remember making that promise.¡± ¡°It was implied. Tell me. What¡¯s the matter?¡± ¡°Nothing is the matter.¡± ¡°You¡¯re being sullen. Is it because we¡¯re leaving Loftland?¡± He breathed a sigh that straddled the thin line between exasperation and amusement. ¡°I am being more watchful because we¡¯re leaving Loftland, yes. The magic here is more diffuse. By tomorrow morning we¡¯ll have left the forest¡¯s protection altogether.¡± Mara swallowed hard as the ball of dread¨Ca perpetual presence, sandwiched between her lungs and her gut¨Ctripled in weight. ¡°Mara.¡± She looked up, and Eli¡¯s gaze found hers and held. ¡°You¡¯re only losing Loftland¡¯s protection. You still have mine. It¡¯ll be alright.¡± Unkind thoughts leapt like carrion birds at his earnest attempt to comfort her. By now, she¡¯d decided that Eli was kind and capable, and that he meant only to help her. She trusted him to keep her and Nick fed and sheltered. She trusted him to know the way to safety. But protection? On his watch, she had been shot. On his watch, Davy had been killed. What proof did she have that his protection was anything more than a brittle veneer? ¡°Do we need to change anything?¡± she asked, her mind a whir or half-formed contingencies, ways to make his job easier. ¡°Should we walk closer together, or maybe farther apart? Should I keep Nick with me? Do we need to stop making fires at night? I¡¯ll try to persuade Nick to be quieter. Maybe I could¨C¡± ¡°Mara,¡± he stopped her, nudging the toe of her boot with his. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this tonight, after Nick goes to bed. We¡¯re safe enough today.¡± ¡°You promise?¡± she pressed, narrowing her eyes and invoking the fragile trust between them. ¡°I promise.¡± She believed that he believed in his conviction. But she did not feel bright.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ~~~ True to his word, as she¡¯d come to expect, Eli seated himself beside her that night after Nick had gone to bed. He spread a map over his lap, and she scooted closer to peer at the parchment, lit half by silver moonlight and half by the red glow of the fire. Unlike the map in her pack, which encompassed all of the Provinces, this one appeared to just depict Ashfall. She saw ¡°Loftland¡± in tidy script towards the western border of the map, and The Great Ribbon winding its way across the northern edge. To the south lay the sea, but she put that looming decision out of her mind to focus on the present. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Eli said, indicating a spot on the western side of the map, just beyond the Loftland border. ¡°The most direct route to Cinder is through the valleys,¡± he traced his little finger along the path he described, ¡°and there¡¯s a footpath that starts about here.¡± His finger stopped over a small blue splotch she assumed was a lake, about midway between their current location and the little dot that was Cinder. ¡°But?¡± she guessed, judging by the tone of his voice. ¡°But, as you well know, Ashfall is known for illicit activity. I¡¯m generally less wary of outlaws than I am of Order patrols, but I¡¯d prefer not to run into either.¡± ¡°Me too.¡± ¡°My recommendation is that we keep to the hills. It¡¯ll take longer, and it¡¯s harder travel, but there¡¯s unlikely to be any outlaw bands so far from the sea route, especially if we avoid waterways.¡± She nodded. ¡°That makes sense.¡± When he didn¡¯t go on, she looked up and found him watching her, as if waiting. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Which would you prefer?¡± She stared. ¡°You¡¯re leaving it up to me?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Oh. Well, the one you recommend, then. Keep to the hills.¡± He nodded and refolded the map, handing it to her. When she didn¡¯t take it, he gave it a little shake. ¡°In case we¡¯re separated. That map you have is useless in terrain like this.¡± That map she had was chosen by Davy, and she wanted to snap something. The map was fine, the map was perfect, he had no right to criticize the map. But Mara was an adult, last she checked, so she kept the thoughts to herself. ¡°You¡¯re making me nervous,¡± she said, reluctantly accepting the map. ¡°Do you think something is going to happen?¡± ¡°No. But I¡¯d still rather you be prepared.¡± She chewed on her lip. ¡°Should we have a plan in case something does happen? And a rendezvous point or something?¡± He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he thought. ¡°If we are separated, just head towards Cinder. I can track you easily enough.¡± Another chill raced up her spine at the thought of finding her way in these woods alone¨Cfinding her way anywhere alone¨Cand she rubbed her arms to ward it off. ¡°Let¡¯s take some time tomorrow morning to redistribute supplies, so you¡¯ve got a share of everything essential¡ªthe food, the map, the money. That way, if we do split up you¡¯ll have everything you need to survive.¡± Mara¡¯s brightness¨Calready at a critical low level¨Cfaded to the suggestion of a flicker. ¡°We¡¯ll have to decide in the moment whether you run or hide,¡± Eli went on, oblivious or perhaps just unaffected by her growing anxiety. ¡°It¡¯ll depend on how much warning we have and where we are. If you do run, head uphill. They¡¯ll expect you to go downhill since it¡¯s easier. Maybe throw something down to make them think you¡¯ve gone that way. Just not your pack, because you¡¯ll need that. Nick, maybe.¡± Her imagination was so wound up, playing pictures of running up through the looming hills from faceless monsters, it took her a moment to register what he¡¯d said. When she did, she could only stare, mouth agape. Eli stared back, eyebrows raised. ¡°You¡¯re a monster!¡± she gasped when his mouth finally twitched. ¡°You looked distracted. I wanted to know if you were paying attention.¡± ¡°A monster!¡± she declared more emphatically, smacking his arm with the back of her hand. He laughed, knocking away her hand when she went to hit him again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°You¡¯d better be! What a terrible joke.¡± But her own lips kept trying to curve up into a smile. If he wasn¡¯t Eli¨Chadn¡¯t spent the last two weeks toting her son about, inventing stories for him, teaching him little tidbits of woodcraft, and generally doting on him¨Csuch a dark joke wouldn¡¯t be funny at all. But he was. So it was. If she¡¯d been keeping closer note of what she felt in that moment, perhaps she¡¯d have recognized the glow that came back to life within her. But she wasn¡¯t. So she didn¡¯t. ¡°In all seriousness,¡± Eli said, once her mock ire had faded. ¡°Please don¡¯t keep yourself up nights worrying over this. The threats here are mostly human, and half-starved, disorganized humans at that. I can keep you safe easily enough, if you stay close.¡± Mara thought of the way he¡¯d handled the two officers back in the city, of the consistency with which he brought back game, all felled by perfect heart shots. Sure, she would have felt safer with someone like Davy, who wielded authority and radiated power, who had climbed the Order¡¯s ranks as well as the rebellion¡¯s. But Davy had died, while Eli had lived. ¡°I know,¡± she said, studying her clasped hands. ¡°I know you can. I trust you.¡± ~~~ That night, as she lay in Davy¡¯s arms, sweat-slick and spent, she thought of the conversation by the fire. ¡°Love?¡± she asked, scratching her fingers through the hair on his chest. ¡°Are you awake?¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± he moaned, his arm tightening around her, a taut band of muscle against her lower back. ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡± ¡°You can try,¡± he mumbled sleepily. They had made efforts, in the past, to talk about deeper matters¨Chow he had died, the rebellion¡¯s plans, the road ahead¨Cbut something always stopped them. Once, a sudden storm had blown in outside, slamming the window shut and startling them both out of the topic. Once, a spark had leapt improbably far from the lit hearth and set a small fire at the edge of the rag carpet. Once, she had simply woken up. It seemed this pocket of reality they inhabited together didn¡¯t want them to do much beyond take comfort in each other¡¯s arms, and in soft, heart close conversation. She cuddled closer, wanting to gather as much of his warmth as she could in case wakefulness swept her away. ¡°Do you think you could tell me a little bit about Eli?¡± She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, but the dream held its structure. Davy pulled her higher, until she all but lay on top of him, chest to chest, one leg pressed between his. ¡°I¡¯d rather not,¡± he murmured, his voice rumbling against her ear. ¡°Not while you¡¯re naked in my bed.¡± ¡°Davy, I¡¯m serious. I¡¯m¡­¡± She tugged their clasped hands up to kiss his knuckles, whispering the words to his fingers like a shameful secret. ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡± He tensed. ¡°Of Eli?¡± ¡°No! No. Just in general.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with Eli?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just him, Davy. Just him, standing between us¨CNicky and me¨Cand danger. You¡¯re¨C¡± You¡¯re gone, she wanted to scream. You¡¯re gone. You can¡¯t hold us when it¡¯s cold. You can¡¯t keep us safe. ¡°Mara,¡± Davy sighed. ¡°It¡¯ll be okay.¡± ¡°It might not be!¡± she argued, pressing down her frustration, her grief. He¡¯d never rise to the argument, have the real conversation, if he thought it would frighten or upset her. He¡¯d just say what it took to make her feel better. ¡°I know he can fight,¡± she said, in what she hoped was a reasonable, uninvested tone. ¡°But he¡¯s a healer, not a warrior.¡± He¡¯s not you. Davy snorted, his body jerking with the force of it. His fingers trailed up her spine, delicious tingles radiating across her back. ¡°Sweet Mara.¡± Tangling his fingers in her hair, he lifted her face for a long, deep kiss. When it was over, he captured her eyes with his, the crystalline green so bright, so sharp. ¡°Have faith, love.¡± Then she blinked, and his face faded to darkness, which faded in turn to gray daylight. A new dawn. A new directive. Have faith. (22) Ashfall ¡°We¡¯ll take a break soon.¡± So steep was the hill, when Eli turned to check her progress, he did so with one leg straight and the bent at the knee to accommodate the difference in heights between one foot and the next. Nick was between them, crawling on all fours, though he seemed to be having fun rather than suffering. Mara, who was not having any fun at all, waved a hand to indicate her continued survival, signaling to Eli there was no need to wait. Once he¡¯d turned and continued on, she stopped, one arm slung around a tree to share her weight, and gasped for breath. Her complex ruminations on faith and Davy hadn¡¯t lasted past lunch. At this point, she¡¯d have welcomed a band of outlaws. If they were attacked, she would lay down at their feet and let them kill her. At least if she was dead, her feet would stop bleeding into her boots and her lungs would stop burning. ¡°We¡¯re almost to the top of the hill,¡± Eli called out, grabbing a small tree for leverage and crouching down to snag Nick by the jacket when he hit a patch of loose dirt and began to slide backwards. Nick giggled. Giggled. Mara¡¯s lungs were going to explode. She extended her break just long enough to see Eli tuck her son beneath one arm like a sack of flour and carry on up the hill. Then she resumed her slog, using the scrappy trees to drag herself up, her palms on fire, scraped raw by the continual effort. By the time she reached the top of the hill, there was little of her left but burning limbs and chafing, sweat-soaked clothing. She dragged herself the last few strides to flat ground, sagged to her knees, and then slumped to her rear, leaning back against her pack without unstrapping it. ¡°Mama!¡± Nick¡¯s excited voice was insufficient warning, and she let out a strangled ¡®oomph¡¯ as he threw himself onto her belly. ¡°Mama, I climb!¡± ¡°I saw, baby,¡± she choked out, stroking the hair back from his face and leaving a streak of dirt behind on his forehead. ¡°You were so fast!¡± A water flask appeared to the left of Nick¡¯s head, Eli¡¯s face hovering above, grim and sweat-streaked. ¡°You alright?¡± ¡°Oh, fine,¡± she wheezed, accepting the flask. ¡°Great. This is easy.¡± Her hands ached as she screwed the cap off the flask and took a deep, hungry swallow of the cool water. Nick bounced a little, driving the air from her lungs, and then was lifted away. Grateful, Mara reclined against her pack and sipped at the water until her will to live returned. When her body finally stopped shrieking long enough to let the world drift back in, she looked around, finding herself atop a massive slab of black granite. She sat up straighter. Eli stood some distance away, at the edge of what appeared to be a sheer drop off, pack discarded, Nick in his arms. He was pointing at something in the distance. Mara shrugged out of her own pack, plucking her sodden shirt away from her back. Her legs shook as she stood, but her knees held her and she joined Eli and Nick at the edge of the rock. ¡°Oh my.¡± Before her stretched a vista unlike any she¡¯d seen. Or, rather, any she ever expected to see. The Loftland firs, while majestic, were talked about in stories, drawn in books. But all anyone ever said about Ashfall was that it was a forbidding place best not visited. But this¡­ They stood at the top of a ridge, much farther up than she¡¯d have guessed they¡¯d climbed, considering how slow they were traveling in deference to her struggle. Ahead of them, the ground formed steep, jutting hills, like sharply creased wrinkles in a heavy length of fabric. Here and there, pushing up like mammoth shoots of grass from the ridges and peaks, stood columns of stark black stone. Some formed broad plateaus atop the hills, others thin, protruding like chimneys from the slopes. Cascades of black stone coated the hillsides beneath the monoliths, disappearing into the treeline. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. The trees themselves seemed to have borrowed their color from the rocks, their needles bluish-black. Mara had noticed, throughout the day, that the thick layer of dead needles on the ground had changed from the rich gold of Loftland fir to a sickly white-gray. Now, looking down from above, she saw where Ashfall got its name. The entire land looked as if it had been burned, the stone pillars like stalks of charcoal, the deadfall on the ground evoking snowy ash, the trees a scorched black beneath the sun. ¡°I hate to be unkind,¡± she said, bracing her arms on her hips, ¡°But I can see why this place was given over to the outlaws.¡± Eli grunted in agreement. ¡°I was just showing Nick. Cinder is over that far ridge¨Cthe one with two peaks, sort of shaped like a saddle.¡± She found the ridge he was talking about. It looked¡­ far. Far enough to form little more than a hazy mirage on the distant horizon, faded and smudged even against the faded blue of the cloud-free sky. Have faith. Mara had faith. What she wasn¡¯t certain about was her stamina. As if sensing her consternation¨Cwhich he seemed to do quite often¨CEli turned away from the edge and nodded toward their packs. ¡°Let¡¯s take a break. It¡¯ll be easier going for the rest of the day. I can take care of your hands and feet before we move on.¡± She followed him, crouching by her pack to pull out their dwindling food stores. She passed a wild carrot to Nick, and offered one to Eli, who waved it away. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with my hands and feet,¡± she said, knowing he¡¯d recognize it for a lie. But her pride was suffering, and now that she¡¯d caught her breath, her little aches and pains were feeling substantially more ¡®little.¡¯ The look he gave her was clear¨Che didn¡¯t believe her. But he didn¡¯t press her on it, perhaps sensing that she was not in the mood to be coddled. Once they¡¯d eaten and had some water, they were back on their feet and moving. Eli¡¯s assertion that the going would be easier had been accurate enough. That first climb had brought them to the first in a chain of hills, and they stuck to the ridges connecting the chain, with only small descents and climbs as the afternoon wore on. Mara was just beginning to think she might survive this first wretched day in Ashfall when Eli, walking a few paces ahead of her, froze. He had Nick in his arms, and when her son looked around and belted out a confused, ¡°Wha¨C¡± Eli silenced him with a stern shake of his head and a finger to his lips. Mara, who had frozen when Eli did, suddenly wanted nothing more than to have her son in her arms. Have faith. She didn¡¯t dare move. Instead, she watched Eli. Watched the profile of his face as he closed his eyes, one finger still pressed to his lips to indicate the need for continued silence. Her own blood rushed so loud in her ears she wouldn¡¯t have been able to hear anything, even if she knew what to listen for. She couldn¡¯t have sensed anything, either. Not with her mind full of panicked fuzz. She watched Eli and she listened to the pulsing roar of her heartbeat, swoosh swooshing in her ears. Have faith. Her hands twitched. She needed Nick in her arms. She needed him close, next to her, wrapped in the protection of her body. Have faith. The need to move, to disregard Eli¡¯s silent command and run, to run, had escalated to a scream, her entire body taut with repressed instinct, when Eli suddenly snapped back to life. His eyes shot open and he spun on his heel, stalking toward her. ¡°Eli, what¨C¡± she whispered, words clipped off by his hand closing around her wrist, dragging her off the relatively level path they¡¯d been following along the ridge. Her feet slipped on loose rocks and she almost fell. He released her wrist and grabbed her by the shoulder strap of her pack, hauling her forward and upright at the same time. They half walked, half-slid, until they abruptly stopped, skidding on black gravel, at the base of a large tree. ¡°Pack off,¡± Eli bit out as he released her. With numb fingers, she unbuckled the straps and dropped her pack. He pushed her toward the trunk of the tree. ¡°Climb.¡± ¡°What about¨C¡± ¡°Climb. I¡¯ll pass him up to you.¡± Leaping for the lowest branch, she swung herself up to straddle it and reached down, accepting Nick as Eli passed him into her arms. He whimpered and squirmed as she tugged him up onto the branch. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she whispered, hugging him to her. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± ¡°Climb, Mara. High as you can.¡± Before she could respond, he¡¯d turned away. He grabbed her pack and shoved it beneath a tangle of vines, completely hidden to all but the most attentive eye. Then he turned and stalked back up the ridge. Have faith, Davy had told her, as if he hadn¡¯t taken it with him when he died. (23) Faith ¡°Okay,¡± she breathed. ¡°Okay.¡± Still straddling the branch, she pulled Nick away from her and, holding his body steady with one arm, brushed the tears from his cheek with her free hand. ¡°Nicky, everything is going to be okay. But you need to listen to me, okay?¡± He nodded, chin wobbling. ¡°Okay.¡± Pulling him close, she used the trunk of the tree to steady herself as she pushed to her feet, bringing her waist level with the next branch. ¡°Okay. This is going to be easy, my love. This tree is like a ladder. Hang on to me, okay? I can¡¯t hold you and climb at the same time.¡± Eli clung to her, legs wrapped around her waist, arms looped around her neck, and she climbed to the next branch. Then to the next. But before she could climb any further, she heard voices. Freezing, balanced on a branch, she wrapped one arm around the trunk, the other around Nick, and peered through the spindly branches of the trees. She could just make out the ridge from which they¡¯d come, Eli just cresting it as she found him through the trees. The voices came from the direction they¡¯d been heading, and Mara¡¯s heart thumped wildly in her chest when three figures came into view up the path from Eli. She could barely see them, but they looked big. Armed. Scruffy. Eli stopped walking when they came into view, greeting them, though she couldn¡¯t make out the words. His voice, what trickle of it made it through the distance, sounded relaxed. Unbothered. One of the figures answered. The biggest one. Walking in the middle. He sounded low, gruff. Very much bothered. Eli said something more. The figure on the left pointed in the direction he¡¯d come. Mara didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t breathe. Nick was whimpering quietly into her neck, and she lowered her head, whispering into his hair. ¡°It¡¯s okay, my love. Just stay quiet. It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re okay.¡± Her eyes burned and blurred. She¡¯d forgotten to blink. She blinked away the blur, just as one of the figures sprang forward in an attack, wielding a small, curved sword. A cry threatened to burst from her lips, but Eli dropped swiftly to a knee, dodging the blow and flipping the attacker cleanly over his shoulder as he shot back to his feet. The other two figures converged, and, in a series of movements too quick for Mara to comprehend, were reduced to writhing, dark heaps on the ground. Mara stared. Was it over? That quickly? No sooner had she had the thought than Eli sidestepped and something dark sprouted up from the ground at his feet like a particularly eager spring sapling. Her sluggish, befuddled mind fumbled with the details as more dark sprouts popped up at his feet. Arrows. Gods, no. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, clung to Nick so hard he squirmed in her arms. Eli took two running steps up the sloping ridgeline and disappeared over the far side. Had he been shot? Was he fleeing? Was he leaving them behind? She didn¡¯t need to have faith, because it didn¡¯t matter whether he left them behind or successfully defended them. He¡¯d put her up a depths-bound tree, and now the only reasonable course of action was to wait here, where at least she was hidden. Mara took a deep breath, focusing on the hard ridges of the tree bark beneath her palm, the stickiness of the sap. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she whispered to Nick. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Two more figures ran into view, peering down the ridge where Eli had disappeared. One jerked back, fell, the dark line of an arrow protruding from its chest. No sooner had the other turned to run when it too fell. Mara watched. Waited. The dark shapes on the ridge still moved¨Csome of them. But no more appeared. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. She watched. Waited. Her legs began to ache from not moving, and she carefully lowered herself to sit on the branch, still holding Nick to her. The move shifted her vantage, but she could still see the miniature battleground. The bodies. One tried to rise and was felled by an arrow, this time coming from higher up on the ridge. Good gods. Were there more? But no, why would they be firing on each other? As she watched, Eli trudged into view, and began meandering amongst the fallen. There was a rhythm to his movements, a business-like pattern. He took a knee beside one body, still moving, placed a hand on its chest, and it went still. Was he killing them with his healing magic? It was possible, she knew, but considered unsavory even by morally ambiguous Order doctrine. Doing harm with healing magic was a kind of evil she couldn¡¯t imagine Eli perpetrating. Discarding that theory, she quickly formed a new one that was confirmed when he moved on to the next body¡ªone with an arrow protruding from its chest. She watched as he yanked the arrow free and shoved it haphazardly back in the quiver, strapped to the side of his pack. Then he placed his hand on the person¡¯s chest, and they went still. A long few moments later, he stood and moved on. He was healing them. And then, she guessed, spelling them as he had the Order lieutenant back in the city. She watched him move through the rest of the bodies with that theory in her head, her theory further confirmed when he paused between one body and the next, head lowered, breathing as if winded. The physik in her yearned to clamber down the tree and go make herself useful, but the voice was weak and she stayed where she was. When had she grown so used to hiding in safety? Finally, he left the bodies behind and began a sliding, fumbling descent down the steep slope towards her, disappearing behind the curtain of overlapping branches. Mara didn¡¯t wait. By the time he reached the tree, she¡¯d awkwardly shimmied her way back down to the low branch on which he¡¯d left her. ¡°I told you to climb,¡± he said crossly, nonetheless reaching up to receive Nick when she passed him down. Her son curled into his arms with a little whimper of anguished relief that ought to have made her feel something unkind or unjust, but didn¡¯t. ¡°I did,¡± she said, hopping down, her landing a little awkward on the slope. ¡°I climbed up. And then I climbed back down. Are you alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She looked him up and down, eyes catching on his left pant leg, just above his knee. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding.¡± Heavily, by the looks of it. ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± He turned and stalked to where he¡¯d stashed her pack. How he planned to wrestle it free from the vines with Nick still in his arms, she didn¡¯t know. ¡°Yes you are. Move.¡± She nudged him aside and crouched to untangle the bag. ¡°I¡¯d better take a look at it before we move. You¡¯ll leave a trail.¡± In a twisted way, she was grateful he¡¯d gone and gotten himself sliced open. At least now she could contribute something¨Ca couple neat stitches and a pain elixir toward the debt she owed. ¡°You don¡¯t need to look at it. It¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°Eli, you are bleeding.¡± Yanking her pack free of the last few clinging vines, she spun to glare at him. Relief had catalyzed the conversion of her terror into a bevy of frantic biproducts¨Cagitation and gratitude, euphoria and angst. The only thing that could quiet the storm was the reliable rhythm of making herself useful. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Mara. It¡¯s healed.¡± ¡°It¨C¡± Oh. Oh. Of course. All healers, even weak ones, were able to turn their magic inward. With a gift as strong as Eli¡¯s, he probably didn¡¯t even have to concentrate. It was probably a natural impulse, to heal himself when he was hurt. ¡°Right.¡± ¡°We really do need to move.¡± Shrugging into her pack, she cinched the straps down and followed as, Nick still in his arms, Eli led the way back up to the ridge. He angled their path somewhat, so that they skirted around the mess of bodies he¡¯d left behind. ¡°Are there more of them?¡± she asked breathlessly, once they reached the top. She trusted that the ones he¡¯d dealt with posed no further risk, but what if they had friends lurking in the hills? ¡°No.¡± She didn¡¯t ask how she knew. He must have persuaded the answer out of them while he was healing them. ¡°What will happen when they wake?¡± ¡°They¡¯ll come to with vague memories of a battle in which they were severely outmatched and the conviction that the gods were looking out for them. Outlaws are a superstitious bunch. They were heading south, so once they wake up they¡¯ll carry on their way.¡± Mara quickened her step to walk next to him. ¡°It would have been easier to kill them. Planting all those false ideas must have been a drain.¡± He eyed her suspiciously. ¡°You can turn the physik off, Mara. I told you, I¡¯m fine.¡± Mara didn¡¯t argue, but she had faith that he was telling the truth. She had faith, now, that he could protect her. She had less faith than ever in herself. (24) Blisters They walked through dinner that night, stopping only long enough to drink water and munch on leftover strips of rabbit meat from the day before. Eli explained as they walked that the attackers were outlaws, splintered off from a larger group, which explained their presence up in the hills. ¡°Running for their lives,¡± he said. ¡°Well, this is the place to do it,¡± Mara commented wryly. As grateful as she was to put some extra distance between them and the outlaws, by the time they finally stopped for the night she was ready to weep. Her feet burned, her hands aching from the scramble up the hill followed by the scramble up the tree. Her entire body was a mass of knotted muscles held loosely together by watery muscles, and not stopping for dinner had taken a toll on her constitution. Eli¡¯s apparent good health only made her feel worse. Despite the fight, the magical expenditure, the healed-but-only-after-considerable-bleeding wound, and the fact that he¡¯d climbed just as many godforsaken hills as she had today, he didn¡¯t appear to be suffering. Not even with the added weight of Nick, who had refused to be put down all evening, since the moment they¡¯d clambered down out of the tree. Mara felt silly. She felt superfluous. Useless. Which she ought to have been used to feeling, but that flash of a moment, when she¡¯d seen the blood and thought Eli might actually need her, and not the other way around, had woken something up inside her¨Ca driving need to be of use. But she couldn¡¯t help. She could barely walk. And, of course, Eli could tell. ¡°Sit,¡± he said, when she took Nick¡¯s hand and declared she was going off to find firewood. ¡°I¡¯ll get it.¡± ¡°I can do it, Eli.¡± ¡°So can I.¡± She sat, and though her body was happy about it, she made clear that she wasn¡¯t. ¡°Your martyr routine is aggravating, you know.¡± ¡°So is yours. Nicky, come help me with this.¡± Nick practically fell over himself toddling over to where Eli was unstrapping the canvas shelter from his pack. He had apparently inherited his mother¡¯s desire to be useful. Lucky him, he hadn¡¯t inherited her uselessness. She watched, trying very hard to ignore the absolute bliss of taking the weight off her feet, as Nick and Eli erected the shelter between two trees. Well, Eli erected the shelter. Nick mostly stood and held a series of ropes and segments of canvas that didn¡¯t appear very important, but which certainly felt important, judging by the straightness of his little spine, the pride on his face as he held them. ¡°Can I please do something to help?¡± she asked, once the shelter was erected and Eli made motions to go off in search of firewood and game. He straightened, bow in hand. ¡°Not tonight.¡± When she opened her mouth to protest, he sank down to a knee beside her, eyes warm. Apologetic. ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s a harder day,¡± he said, voice pitched low so Nick couldn¡¯t hear. ¡°And there¡¯s leagues between us and Cinder, and two more weeks of rough travel after that to the Ribbon. You¡¯re plenty strong enough to make it, but only if you listen to what your body is telling you. Right now, it¡¯s telling you to rest, loudly enough even I can hear it.¡± Her annoyance wilted like a bundle of herbs hung up to dry. He was right. Of course. Her body wasn¡¯t just telling her to rest, it was screaming, pleading. The muscles of her calves threatened to cramp even as they spoke. Eli rested the bow across his knees. ¡°If you needed to, you could press on. I know that. You know that. You could and would survive this without me. But just because you could doesn¡¯t mean you have to.¡± Her eyes burned. Exhaustion, she told herself. Humiliation. Shame. Better those things than the truth¨Crelief. Gratitude. Warmth that scalded the bloodless, frigid remnants of her soul. She nodded, lowering her face to hide her tears. He stood, shifting darkness in her periphery. ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon, and I¡¯ll stay within earshot. Call if you need me.¡± She didn¡¯t call, and he returned thirty minutes later, firewood in hand but no meat. She and Nick broke the firewood down into short pieces while Eli dug two holes, explaining as he worked that he was building a ¡®darknight fire.¡¯ ¡°It¡¯ll be smokeless,¡± he said. ¡°And it won¡¯t cast much light. Darknight fires aren¡¯t great for keeping warm, but they¡¯re decent enough for cooking and boiling water.¡± Fascinated despite herself, Mara watched as he reached down into one of the twin holes he¡¯d dug, his arm disappearing up to the elbow as he carved out a small tunnel connecting the two. ¡°We¡¯ll build the fire in this one,¡± he said, gesturing to the slightly larger pit. ¡°And air will come in from the other to feed it. Nicky, you got the kindling?¡± Nick handed over a bundle of sticks, kneeling opposite Eli and mirroring his posture¨Cdown on one knee, forearm braced across his thigh. Mara was too tired to interpret her reaction to the sight of her son modeling himself after a man who was not his father. She only knew how it felt¨Clike someone had cinched a rope down around her heart and was yanking it tighter every time it tried to beat. The fire, true to its name, didn¡¯t lend any light to the looming darkness beyond a shallow dome of orange just over the opening, and only a pale wisp of smoke issued forth, breaking apart into nothing before it reached the lowest branches of the trees. Nonetheless, they were able to boil pot after pot of water over the hidden flames, setting the water aside in open water flasks to cool as they munched on their dwindling supply of food. Soon enough, full dark had fallen and Nick had fallen too, deeply asleep in Mara¡¯s lap, his hand wrapped in her shirt. Eli stood and went to the shelter, stomping on the ground to clear the bugs away before spreading her sleeping roll beneath it. ¡°I can put him down,¡± he said when he was done, but Mara shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± To her relief, he didn¡¯t argue. Though when she stood, putting her weight as well as Nick¡¯s on her battered feet, part of her wished she¡¯d accepted his offer. Trying not to limp, she carried her son the short distance to the shelter. Knelt and tugged off his boots and outerwear before tucking him beneath the blankets. She had half a mind simply to collapse beside him and fall asleep fully clothed. But Ashfall was more dangerous than Loftland, which meant they probably needed a night guard. She would share that burden with Eli even if she had to fight him for it, even if it killed her. Which, at this point, it might do. Climbing wearily back to her feet, she returned to where Eli sat, watching another pot of water boil. ¡°I can finish this,¡± she said as she sank down beside him. ¡°If you want to get some rest.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s take care of your feet first.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°They¡¯re fine.¡± He didn¡¯t even look at her. ¡°Judging by the way you¡¯re walking, you¡¯ve got open blisters. You know as well as I do, if you keep walking on them they¡¯ll get inflamed, and then we¡¯ll have a problem I might not be able to solve.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal. It can wait until you get some rest.¡± ¡°Or we could do it now.¡± Giving up the act, Mara leaned back on her aching hands. ¡°Do I have to take my boots off?¡± The thought of doing so, and of dragging her saturated socks from her battered feet, made her want to cry. Better to just leave them in there and let them rot off in their own time. Eli pulled the bubbling pot of water from the fire with a sturdy stick and set it aside. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s best to wash them first, so I¡¯m not knitting the flesh back together over foreign matter.¡± She cringed, but dutifully tugged off her boots. Tried to. All day she¡¯d been walking, in pain but not crippled by it. But sitting down for a while, giving her feet a rest, seemed to have made everything worse instead of better. Her fingers shook as she unlaced the boots, and the sharp pain of merely shifting one against her heel had her biting down and fighting a whimper. ¡°Stop.¡± Eli moved to kneel at her feet. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± ¡°I can take off my own boots.¡± ¡°Obviously. But it¡¯ll go faster if you let me help.¡± Mara closed her eyes, trying to decide if her head was spinning because she was going to faint or if she was just getting swept away by the deluge of humiliation. Blisters, of all things. She¡¯d given birth and hadn¡¯t been such a baby about it. Then again, she¡¯d had Davy at her side the whole time she labored, stroking her hair, letting her squeeze his hand, feeding her little sips of chilled water¡­ ¡°It¡¯s going to hurt, but just for a second. I¡¯ll be quick.¡± Eli¡¯s voice broke through her bizarre fantasy, one hand gripping her left boot, the other bracing her calf. ¡°Deep breath.¡± She leaned back on her elbows, pulled in a deep breath, and didn¡¯t, to the benefit of her tattered pride, make a noise as he tugged the boot off in one swift motion. Then the other. And then her socks, and at that she did make a sound¨Cjust a small one, a grunt in the back of her throat. ¡°Done.¡± She opened her eyes and pushed up onto her hands. Eli sat by her feet, one leg outstretched, her ankles propped on his thigh so the raw flesh of her heels wasn¡¯t resting on the ground. There ought to have been a strange intimacy in the contact, in the heat of his leg against her calf. But intimacy required tenderness, and there was nothing tender or sentimental in the way he handled her. To her relief, his touch was brusque, fingers firm and businesslike as he lifted her feet one by one, examining them by the moonlight. ¡°You should have let me fix this when we stopped this morning,¡± he said curtly. ¡°I didn¡¯t think they were that bad.¡± He didn¡¯t dignify that lie with a response¨Cnot so much as a raised eyebrow or a dry glance. He reached for the pot of water. ¡°Would you like something for the pain?¡± She did, very much. But she wasn¡¯t about to burn a pain elixir for blisters. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± He didn¡¯t dignify that with a response either. ¡°Go ahead and lay back.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t faint.¡± ¡°Suit yourself.¡± She did, ultimately, lay back, though she¡¯d have liked to note that it was a voluntary effort. Not at all a response to the obscene, disproportionate pain of having her ravaged feet doused in warm water, cleaned with soap, and doused again. Not at all because she became so lightheaded from the pain she couldn¡¯t remember which direction was up and the only way to stay attached to the earth was to place her back against it. She knew, logically, that broad, shallow wounds often hurt worse than deep ones. There were more nerves at the surface of the skin. But still¡­ that blisters should be her undoing was simply unacceptable, so when a haze of darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take deep, forceful breaths. The now-familiar burn of Eli¡¯s magic replaced the screaming, stabbing pain of the water, and the darkness ebbed and waned. In less than a minute, it was over, and she sat up, a little wobbly and very embarrassed but free of pain. ¡°I¡¯d recommend sleeping with your feet bare, tonight,¡± Eli said, ¡°And you should change your socks when we stop for lunch. The damp does as much harm as the friction.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± she said weakly. ¡°Go ahead and wash your hands.¡± He handed her a bar of soap and she obediently scrubbed her raw hands clean, the pain of her scraped-up palms a distant, bearable burn compared to her feet. When she was done, Eli washed his own hands before taking the water away and sloshing it into the woods. When he returned, he held out his hand. She placed hers in it and he closed his eyes, and heat rushed into her hand, up her arm, across her chest, and down to the other hand. Both her palms throbbed with the beat of her heart, but she¡¯d only counted three beats before the heat was replaced by cool. ¡°Better?¡± he asked, releasing her hand, and she turned her palms over, wondering at the unbroken flesh. She wiggled her toes as well, her feet marvelously pain free. Next time¨Cnot that she wanted there to be a next time, but there probably would¨Cshe resolved to watch instead of closing her eyes. It would be fascinating to watch the flesh stitch back together. ¡°That really is amazing,¡± she said. She¡¯d never had the opportunity to work with a healer. Though she understood the theory of that branch of innate magic, she¡¯d rarely seen it in action. ¡°And it really doesn¡¯t take too much energy?¡± He shook his head, moving away to sit against his pack. ¡°It¡¯s easier than persuasive magic,¡± he said, with surprising honesty. ¡°If persuasion is like walking up a hill, healing is flat terrain. There¡¯s still an expenditure, but the proportions are different, relative to what you¡¯re accomplishing.¡± His tone changed as he spoke, lightening up and turning inward like he was sharing something he¡¯d thought of often but never said out loud. ¡°I think it¡¯s because healing means working with the object of the magic rather than against them. You¡¯re using their own body, their own healing capacity, just encouraging it all to work faster. The only time it¡¯s really a struggle is when you¡¯re working against what the body wants¨Ccooling fevers, easing swelling, things like that. With persuasive magic, you¡¯re always working against them. Fighting whatever it is they want to think or feel.¡± ¡°Davy said shadow-casting was a drain,¡± she offered, and he nodded thoughtfully. ¡°But only when he was fighting active persuasion. He said weaving shields was easier. Maybe it¡¯s the same principle.¡± ¡°Makes sense.¡± He didn¡¯t say more, and she frowned at his silhouette in the darkness. ¡°Would you like to get some sleep? I can keep watch the first half of the night.¡± He cocked his head at her like a puzzled dog, and before he could say something to annoy her, she went on. ¡°Since we¡¯re not in Loftland anymore, we need to be more watchful. You said as much yesterday, when I asked. I assume that¡¯s true at night as well as it is during the day.¡± She paused, giving him time to argue the point, but he didn¡¯t. ¡°So what was your plan? To stay awake every night from here to the Enclave?¡± His expression tightened. Mara¡¯s did too¨Ca tangible pressure where her teeth ground together and her brow pinched. ¡°Was that your plan?¡± she pushed, incredulous. Poignant, pointed silence answered her. ¡°Eli, that¡¯s the stupidest¡­¡± She broke off, shaking her head. ¡°People need sleep. You¡¯re a healer. You know that. People die when they don¡¯t sleep.¡± He shrugged and, finally, spoke. ¡°Not necessarily. We only sleep so our brains have time to repair the damage we do during the day with all our thinking. I don¡¯t need to sleep to repair that damage.¡± Just like he didn¡¯t need potions or stitches to repair a wound. Healers, Mara decided, were an infuriating breed. She was grateful she¡¯d never had to deal with one before. ¡°That¡¯s not the only reason we sleep,¡± she argued, thinking of the sanctum of her dreams, even before Davy¡¯s death, and of the advice her mother had given her as a child. Sleep on it, she used to say, every time Mara got angry with a friend or thought her heart had been irrevocably broken by some childish loss. You¡¯ll feel different in the morning. ¡°We sleep for rest, and for reflection. There¡¯s value in dreams.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not going to kill me.¡± Perhaps not, but she wasn¡¯t ready to concede the point. She wouldn¡¯t concede the point. ¡°Fine, but that doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re not sharing the night shift with me. Just because you could doesn¡¯t mean you have to.¡± ¡°I can handle it, Mara.¡± She met his eyes as well as she could in the darkness. ¡°So can I.¡± (25) Cinder Mara split the shift with Eli that first night in Ashfall, and every night thereafter. It wasn¡¯t an even split¨Cshe only kept watch for a couple of hours at the beginning of the night, but Mara was capable of discernment. She knew a fight she could win from one she couldn¡¯t. So, she split the shift unevenly and resigned herself to gratitude that at least a small portion of the weight was now hers to carry. There were no more incidents after the unexpected band of outlaws¨Cjust day after day of walking up hills and then down them, setting up camp and then breaking it, watching the sun rise watery over the gray landscape and then watching it set, blinding and red, beyond the distant black ridges on the horizon. Mara¡¯s body held up well enough, after that first humiliating day. Perhaps because she¡¯d become suddenly much tougher and more rugged overnight. Perhaps because she no longer resisted Eli¡¯s efforts to send a push of healing magic at her during every break. It was tough to say. Either way, the rest of their journey to Cinder was quiet enough that Mara found herself slipping inexorably from bored suffering into dense, heavy sadness. The part of her mind that remained detached recognized that this was to be expected. She¡¯d found out her husband had died and immediately gone on the run, the loss supplanted by fear and uncertainty. And then they¡¯d been in Loftland, and Davy had joined her in her dreams. In Loftland, her days had been enchanted, her nights a miracle. She¡¯d wrangled her heart over Davy¡¯s loss in those early days, but never single-handedly. She¡¯d had the magic. The dreams. But here, in Ashfall, where the landscape was as gray as her grief, hope and comfort faded more with each passing day. Whatever the dreams meant, she wasn¡¯t naive enough to believe they were a promise of Davy¡¯s return to her arms. When she went to him at night, she did so knowing that it wouldn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t last. No more than their life here together could have lasted. She began to count the nightly visitations, not by how many she had been blessed with, but by how many might remain before she lost those too. So, Mara found herself sliding down the arc of her moods into a pit from which little energy could emerge beyond the necessary. She woke up in the morning. She wore her pack. She walked. She engaged with Nick when he engaged with her. She gathered firewood. She ate. She sat for three hours in the evening, staring at the lumpy darkness of the forest, listening to distant wolves howl and less-distant coyotes yammer and shriek. When Eli woke from his heavy, corpselike sleep¨Calways on time, of course¨Cshe crawled into her blankets and held her son and fell into her own deep slumber. And then she woke up in the morning once again. Beyond the cycle of necessity, Mara did little except drag her leaden feet over the ground and drag her aching mind from one of her son¡¯s needs to the next. She did not request further lessons in resistance technique, nor did she practice the one exercise Eli had given her. She did not make up stories for her son, unless he asked. She did not attempt to engage Eli in conversation. She did not forage, except for food. Each night, after Nick had gone to sleep but before Mara¡¯s shift started, Eli would take a knee before her, interrupting her view of the fire, and force her to meet his eyes. He asked the same question, every night. ¡°Is there anything I can do?¡± Every night, she shook her head. All he could do was what he already did¨Cnotice. If he noticed, if he asked, at least that meant she wasn¡¯t as alone as she felt. After the first few anxious nights, she didn¡¯t count the days to Cinder. It could have been a week, it could have been a month. The terrain never really changed¨Cjust hill after steep, unforgiving hill, carpeted with thin, sickly-looking trees. The day they finally arrived, she was so lost in herself she wasn¡¯t even excited. ¡°We¡¯ll stick to the woodline,¡± Eli was saying, after announcing that they were within a league of the city. ¡°Loop around to the west entrance. The east gate is closer, but I¡¯d rather we not have to travel through that part of the city.¡± Though they reached the ring road just after breakfast, they gave it such a wide berth it took them until well past lunch to circle around to the north entrance. Before emerging onto the road, they stopped to rest, and Mara sat in a fugue with Nick in her lap, trying to focus on what Eli was saying. She no longer felt as if she inhabited her body. Rather, she floated somewhere behind it, directing her own actions like an inexperienced puppeteer working the strings of a cheap marionette. She gathered from Eli¡¯s voice¨Cwhich came to her from the far end of a long tunnel¨Cthat they were near to the road. That they would join the main route just west of where it intersected with the ring road. If they passed anyone on the road, Mara was to make eye contact with as many members of the passing party as she could. Odd instructions¨Cback at the Capital, the policy was to keep one¡¯s eyes downcast. She supposed it was some outlaw custom, but she didn¡¯t ask. Even her curiosity had gone dim. ¡°We¡¯ll have to bribe the gate guards,¡± Eli said as he rose to his feet and slung his pack over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the negotiations. Otherwise, it should be straightforward. Any questions?¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Mara shook her head. She didn¡¯t speak. She felt Eli¡¯s eyes on her¨Cworried, insightful, aggravating¨Cas she donned her own pack. She didn¡¯t look at him. The road¨Cpacked earth and heavily rutted from recent rainfall¨Cfelt like glass beneath her feet, after so many days of walking on soft, even earth. Mara walked close to Eli, who carried Nick, and forced herself to follow his instructions every time they passed other travelers. The first group was a troop of six armed individuals¨Cfour men and two women. They wore similar clothing¨Cworn brown with green trim¨Cand similar menacing expressions. Mara made eye contact with both women and two of the men, and exhaled in relief when they passed by. ¡°Who were they?¡± she asked, once they¡¯d passed out of earshot. ¡°Kilgan¡¯s,¡± Eli answered, glancing over his shoulder. ¡°Officially, it¡¯s a transport company¨CCinder to Clearwater. Functions more like a protection racket.¡± ¡°There were women,¡± she observed. ¡°There were.¡± ¡°With swords.¡± It wasn¡¯t that Mara thought women incapable of fighting. She knew that, beyond the Provinces, women held all sorts of positions¨Cwarriors, hunters, leaders, healers¨Cwith great success. The true leader of the rebellion was Davy¡¯s mother, not his father. But it struck her as fantastical that women would be seen carrying swords so openly in Provincial territory. ¡°The Order¡¯s control is more lax, south of Clearwater,¡± Eli said, answering her unspoken question. ¡°They crack down on smaller outfits, but companies like Kilgan¡¯s are allowed to make their own rules. Regular contact with Ralin keeps them supplied with their own Shadowcasters, so they¡¯ve got enough shielded minds to withstand persuasion. And they keep the Order happy by offering discounted transport contracts to between the port and the river. If they ever had a mind to rebel, or to extend their influence beyond the Cinder-Clearwater route, the Order would demolish them. As is, they coexist. Easier for both parties.¡± More questions scrambled their way to the surface of Mara¡¯s hazy gray mind, but she didn¡¯t get a chance to ask them. They¡¯d joined with the ring road and all the traffic that went with it. They passed horse drawn carts and covered wagons, some with escorts and some without. They passed more armed parties in a host of colors, many of which Eli identified for her after they passed. Brown and green¨CKilgan¡¯s. Sky blue and navy¨CSeasafe. Yellow trim on gray¨CPlarit¡¯s. Once, they passed an innocuous duo¨Ctwo men in plain tan trousers and white shirts. As they approached, Eli reached down and closed his hand around hers¨Cso alarmingly out of character she barely resisted the urge to yank her hand away. Perhaps she would have, had he not squeezed once, hard. A warning. ¡°Eyes down.¡± Mara obeyed without question, lowering her gaze to the tangled trail of ruts down the center of the road. She didn¡¯t have to ask to know Eli was using persuasion. Though she hadn¡¯t been practicing her resistance technique, sensing had become second nature. She knew the way his healing magic tingled in the air well enough to know this was something different--his persuasion had a smell to it. Rich and metallic like warm blood. The duo passed, and Mara counted twenty more steps before Eli released her hand. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Order?¡± she asked. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Are they here looking for us?¡± ¡°Probably not. The Order¡¯s always got spies in Cinder. It¡¯s not unusual.¡± There was more to it. She sensed that as clearly as she sensed the persuasion. But before she could press him, they turned off the ring road onto a wide, straight path and Cinder finally came into view. The city wall was a patchwork construction of hewn logs, braced upright and carved at the top to form jagged points. A narrow moat surrounded the wall, though it was little more than a culvert with a collection of brackish water at the bottom. It seemed some engineer had decided a moat was in order without putting much thought into how it might be filled, or what its purpose ought to be other than simply to exist. Nonetheless, Mara was grateful for the rickety bridge that crossed the moat. The last thing she needed was wet feet. At the gate¨Can imposing construction of wrought iron, manned by six gruff, bearded guards in mismatched gray¨CEli handed her Nick and they joined a queue of about a dozen other travelers. Mara, pathetic and downtrodden as she was, made eye contact with those who looked directly at her, but otherwise kept close to Eli. Behind her, a statuesque blond woman in Plarit¡¯s uniform was arguing with a stout Seasafe employee, and Mara tensed until she realized they were merely comparing favorite taprooms. When they reached the guards, Mara stood a little behind Eli, bouncing her son, and drew on her dreary mood to better play a woman for whom this chaos was commonplace and unremarkable. She hoped her expression was bored rather than horrified as she listened to Eli bargain the exorbitant bribe down to something merely absurd. With the negotiations and the guards behind them, they strode onto the streets of Cinder¡¯s western quarter. ¡°We¡¯ll find a room first,¡± Eli said as she drew even with him. He walked much faster on these crowded streets than he had at any point during their journey thus far, and she found herself half-jogging to keep up with his long strides. Cinder seemed unremarkable as towns went, not that she had much to compare it to. It wasn¡¯t at all like the Capital, lacking the large city¡¯s cobblestone streets and perfectly spaced lampposts. Nor did it call to mind Bedford¡¯s colorful wooden storefronts or the low huts and roaming chickens of her mother¡¯s village. It was just¡­ a city. The streets were paved with stones, albeit roughly, with large sections missing and given over to muddy puddles of unknown depth. Every building was constructed of the same timber that comprised the outer wall¨Cthe wood a grayish brown, undoubtedly the trademark black pines of Ashfall¨Cand looked sturdy enough if a little rough. Painted signs identified the purpose of each establishment¨Ctaproom, tanner, smithy, general store, butcher, farrier, and so on, nothing out of the ordinary. And the people seemed ordinary as well, dressed not unlike Mara and Eli in well-traveled cotton and wool, moving here and there with a purpose but not in a hurry. She was almost disappointed. She¡¯d expected working women on every porch, slinging jugs of hard liquor. Brawls down every alleyway. Blood and vomit in the streets, leering criminals pawing at her as she passed. The reality was less alarming, but also much more dull. Eventually, Eli turned them left off the main drag and down a quieter side street. ¡°I know the proprietor where we¡¯re going,¡± he told her. ¡°But she might not have any rooms available. Late spring is busy season in Cinder, with the Stormway reasonably calm and folks moving goods to and from the port.¡± ¡°What do we do if there¡¯s no rooms?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Find another inn.¡± (26) The Sleepery Ordinarily, Eli¡¯s vague and unhelpful answer to her question would have inspired a snappish response. But Mara didn¡¯t have any snappish energy¨Cshe didn¡¯t have any energy¨Cso she just said, ¡°Okay,¡± as if that was enough. Because it was. She trusted him to ensure they didn¡¯t sleep on the streets. Did anything else really matter? Abruptly, Eli turned right and climbed the creaking front steps of a three-story building with Lorraine¡¯s Sleepery in swooping script beside the door. ¡°Sleepery?¡± she muttered. ¡°Lorraine is¡­¡± he paused, hand on the doorknob, ¡°...eccentric. You¡¯ll like her.¡± Without giving her a chance for further questions, he twisted the knob and pushed the door open, leading the way into what appeared to be a barroom. Tables were scattered across the open room with chairs stacked atop them. Against the left wall stood a long bar, bottles and glasses on shelves behind it, and to the right a low stage home to a single upright piano. Mara hugged Nick a little tighter to her despite her aching arms, traipsing along in Eli¡¯s wake as he strode over to the bar. The red-headed woman behind the bar, reaching for a bottle on a high shelf, addressed them without turning. ¡°Barroom doesn¡¯t open for an hour.¡± ¡°Lori,¡± Eli said, and the woman dropped back onto her heels and whirled around, braids trailing as she spun. When she caught sight of her visitor, her cheerful, professional smile split into a devastated, wobbly-lipped grimace. ¡°Eli?¡± she breathed, tears leapt to her shocked blue eyes. For a heartbeat, she seemed to hover on a precipice, her hands coming up to her own cheeks as if to soothe herself. Then she broke free of her rictus and hurried to the end of the bar, then back along the near side before throwing herself into Eli¡¯s arms like a long lost lover. Maybe she was. The hug certainly went on for an improper length of time. ¡°Gods,¡± she gasped into the collar of his shirt, one hand cradling the back of his head. ¡°We thought you were dead, sweetheart. We heard about¨C¡± ¡°This is Mara,¡± Eli said, pulling away from the hug in such a hurry it would have been rude, were it not so obviously a calculated effort to stop her from saying something she shouldn¡¯t. He gestured to Mara with a pained expression on his face. ¡°Davy¡¯s wife. And Nick. His son. I¡¯m taking them to meet him. To meet Davy.¡± For a moment, confusion twisted Lori¡¯s pretty features. But Eli looked pointedly at Nick, and her expression smoothed out. ¡°Of course,¡± she said, her smile tight and sympathetic. ¡°I take it you¡¯re looking for rooms?¡± ¡°If you have anything available.¡± At that, her smile loosened up, lost some of its desperate relief, and she lifted a hand to pat him on the cheek. ¡°I¡¯d kick out the Mayor for you, Eli. You know that.¡± His own smile was a touch pained. ¡°You don¡¯t have to kick anyone out.¡± ¡°I would. But I don¡¯t, you¡¯re right. I had a no-show party of five yesterday. Terrible for business, but good for you!¡± She turned as she spoke, looping back around the bar and unearthing a massive, leather-bound book from beneath it. She dropped it on the bartop with a thud and flipped it open to a page marked with a short pencil. ¡°Two rooms?¡± ¡°Adjoining, if possible. Otherwise just one.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got two on the third floor, adjoining. How many nights?¡± Eli glanced at Mara and she shook her head. ¡°Three?¡± he suggested, as much to her as to Lori. Relief had her sagging. She¡¯d feared this would be a one-night stop before they plunged back into the forbidding Ashfall wilderness. ¡°No problem.¡± Lori licked the tip of her pencil and scratched something into the book before slamming it shut and shoving it back beneath the bar. Then she crouched, disappearing from view, and reappeared with two keys, each bound to a wooden disc with red twine. ¡°Rooms 31 and 32, top of the stairs to the left,¡± she said, handing them over. ¡°How much?¡± Eli asked as he accepted them. ¡°For you? It¡¯s on¨C¡± ¡°Lori. Your going rate.¡± She scowled and propped her fists on her hips. ¡°Three copper a night.¡± ¡°Lori.¡± ¡°Four.¡± ¡°The truth, or I¡¯ll take it up with Becca.¡± Lori lowered her face and mumbled something to the bartop. ¡°Say again?¡± ¡°Ten,¡± she said sharply, glaring at him, and Mara felt an unexpected kinship with the pretty innkeeper. ¡°But if you leave a tip I¡¯ll hunt you down.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome to try.¡± He plucked the keys from her hands and headed toward the staircase. ¡°Mara?¡± ¡°It was nice to meet you,¡± Mara said, hurrying to catch up with him. ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll chat soon,¡± Lori called after her. Eli stopped at the first landing, offering Mara the keys. ¡°Trade?¡± Breathless, she passed Nick off and accepted the keys, and they trudged up the remaining three flights of stairs. Strange, how those least few steps between her and a private room and a proper bed felt like more work than all the hills of Ashfall. The stairs ended in the center of a hallway, and they turned left. Rooms 31 and 32 were the last two. ¡°You can take 31,¡± Eli said, holding out his hand for the key, and she handed him the one marked ¡®32.¡¯ ¡°Go ahead and get settled. We should be safe enough here, but keep the outer door locked. I¡¯ll see about having water sent up for the bath. Cinder hasn¡¯t quite caught up to Order plumbing standards.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m just through the adjoining door, so if you need anything¨C¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I¡¯ll call.¡± With a curt nod, he handed Nick back over to her and they parted ways. Mara let herself into the room and closed the door, letting her squirming son down as she locked it. Cinder accommodation, not unlike Cinder itself, was remarkably unremarkable. The room, though small, was well-furnished with a bed that made her almost dizzy with yearning, a deep armchair, a sturdy chest of drawers, and a small hearth¨Cunlit but welcoming nonetheless. A full-length mirror stood on a stand in the corner by the door, and Mara made a point not to look in it as she crossed the room and dropped her pack on the far side of the bed. ¡°Well, Nicky, what do you think?¡± she asked as her son scrambled up onto the armchair, lounged there for three seconds, and slid back off. ¡°Home!¡± he declared, running to the screen by the window that she assumed separated the bathing area. She followed him, and sure enough a copper tub sat against the wall, along with a chamberpot, a basin, and a low table scattered with various hygiene items¨Csoap, a toothbrush, a tiny sample bottle of perfume. She uncapped the bottle and took a whiff. Cedar. Smoke. She capped the bottle and tossed it onto the low table, tugging Nick away from the basin before he toppled it. That offense, of course, initiated a ten minute meltdown, which only ended when a knock on the door adjoining the rooms distracted him from the injustice. Sliding off Mara¡¯s lap, Nick ran to the door and fumbled with the knob. She helped him, which she suspected would have retriggered the meltdown had the door not swung open to reveal Eli. ¡°Lili!¡± Nick hollered, hurling himself into the man¡¯s arms as if they hadn¡¯t seen each other in weeks, as was his custom every time Eli wandered out of sight for longer than two minutes. ¡°Hey, buddy.¡± He stooped to pick Nick up, eyeing the tears and snot on his face, then looked to Mara, whose own face was warm and no doubt taut with lines of strain. ¡°Little meltdown?¡± ¡°Mm. Little. Yes,¡± she said, leaning her shoulder against the doorway. She wondered if she looked as rough as he did, in the context of civilized quarters. She hadn¡¯t noticed, when they were out in the woods and everything was dirt and greenery. But here, with plaster walls as a backdrop, she could make out the tracks sweat had cut through the grime on his face and neck, the bags beneath his eyes, the wrinkles in his clothing. His hair, cropped Order-close at the start of their journey, had grown shaggy, his facial hair full and disreputable. No wonder they¡¯d been able to walk the streets of Cinder unmolested. He certainly looked the part of an outlaw. No doubt, so did she. ¡°Water¡¯s on its way up,¡± he said, interrupting her catalog. ¡°If you want to get Nick cleaned up first, I can watch him while you take your turn.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± The question cast a brief shadow of confusion over his face. ¡°Won¡¯t the water be cold?¡± she clarified. ¡°They¡¯ll bring up more between each bath so we can drain and refill. I mentioned it¡¯s been a while.¡± Mara let out a breath, relieved. ¡°Then the plan sounds good to me.¡± No sooner had she said it than a knock sounded at the door, initiating a parade of girls and boys in matching blue uniforms, toting buckets of water. They slipped in and out of the open room, filling up the tub to partway, the last few walking more carefully and wearing thick oven mits, their burden steaming heavily. When the parade had ended and the tub was full, Eli handed Nick back to her without prompting. ¡°The tub drains to the outside gutter, so just pull the stopper when you¡¯re done. And knock on my door when you¡¯re ready for them to bring your water up.¡± Mara had never had her bathwater brought to her before. As a girl and a young woman, raised on the poorer end of solvent, she¡¯d fetched her own bathwater, and that of her parents. As Davy¡¯s wife, she¡¯d lived in order homes and stayed in Order inns, where water was delivered via taps. She struggled briefly with feelings of guilt before dismissing them. The fact of the matter was that she needed a bath. She deserved a bath, after the last two weeks. And she knew without asking that Eli would make sure Lori and her employees were well compensated for their trouble. Conscience lightened, she set about the monumental task of wrestling her squirming son out of his clothes and into the warm water. True to form, he struggled as if she was trying to drown him, right up until he was in the bath. Then he splashed happily as she scrubbed, rinsed, scrubbed, rinsed, rescrubbed and rerinsed the dirt from his hair and body. And then he struggled as if she was trying to drown him once more when it was time to get out. ¡°A little consistency would be appreciated,¡± she muttered as she hauled him bodily out of the tub and stood him on a folded towel beside it. ¡°No!¡± he declared, reaching for the lip of the tub as if poised to throw himself back into the dirty water. ¡°Yes.¡± She snatched another folded towel from the low table and wrapped it around his shoulders. ¡°Come on, now.¡± Swaddled and thus mollified, he let her pick him up and carry him out of the bathing area to stand beside the hearth, which had been lit sometime during the water-carrying shuffle. Nick stood in petulant silence as she dried his hair, and when he grew bored and darted away, she gave up with a sigh and let him careen about the room stark naked. Leaving her son to his air-drying antics, she went to the bath area, pulled the plug as Eli had instructed, and did her best to clean up the spatter around the tub. Then she went to the door adjoining the room and knocked. Eli answered a few seconds later, a bemused smile on his face. ¡°Sounds like things are going well.¡± Screeching, Nick shot past both their legs and into his room, and she gasped and went to chase him, only for him to dart back. With a heavy sigh, she rested her forehead against the doorjamb. ¡°Yes. Things are fabulous.¡± ¡°Want a hand?¡± She dipped her chin a weary nod, stepping back to allow him into the room. ¡°I¡¯ll wrangle the beast if you dig out his clothes,¡± she said, nodding toward her pack. ¡°There should be a clean set, in the green drawstring bag.¡± Leaving him to the excavation, she chased Nick down, captured him, and finished drying his hair. Eli joined her by the fire, clothing in hand, and together they wrestled the squirming child into fresh clothing. ¡°Imagine being so ticked off about being clean,¡± Eli remarked, sitting back on his heels when they finally finished and Nick tore away. ¡°Is he always like this indoors?¡± Mara slumped onto her bottom, the heat of the fire warming her back, and watched Nick scramble up onto the bed, crawl like an animal across it, and then slide off the far side. ¡°Yes,¡± she admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is about four walls.¡± ¡°Gods,¡± he breathed. ¡°How did you get anything done?¡± Mara laughed, nonsensical tears blurring her vision. ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± He frowned. ¡°What about your work?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve spent a total of five hours in my workspace since he started crawling. Wrangling Nick is a full-time job.¡± If Eli had more to say on that subject, he didn¡¯t get the chance because Nick came flying in from the left, tackling him with such force he had to brace himself to keep from falling. ¡°Alright, Nicky,¡± he said, slinging her son under his arm and pushing to his feet. ¡°Let¡¯s go destroy my room and let your mom have a bath.¡± At the door, he turned back. ¡°If it¡¯s okay, I¡¯ll take him downstairs to let them know you¡¯re ready for your water. But we¡¯ll be here in the room while you wash up.¡± She dipped her chin. ¡°Thank you.¡± He closed the door behind him, and she slumped there on the floor, a bit dizzy. A bit nauseous. Part of her wanted to leave this place and return to the woods, where there was always noise of some kind, and the threat of danger. Between these four whitewashed walls, with even the sounds of the city street muffled by plaster and insulation and distance, there was nothing to keep the heavy sadness inside her. It expanded, billowing outward, until the whole room stank of neglect¨Cmusty and faded. Before she could sink fully into her dusty, foggy feelings, a knock at the door heralded the arrival of Lorraine¡¯s servants with the water. When they finished, Mara was alone with a steaming hot tub of water, no child to mind, no mysterious guide to tiptoe around, no Davy to desperately hold. She stripped to nothing, leaving her clothes in a dirty pile atop Nick¡¯s, and used a rag to wipe the worst of the dust from her body before slipping into the water. Deep, dark, delicious Depths. She slid down until the water lapped at her chin, the heat suffusing her body in layers. Skin, then fat, then muscle, then bone. Pleasure coiled up her spine and turned her brain to warm, contented mush. Maybe¨Cmaybe¨Cshe would be okay. (27) Obstacles Mara was tempted to simply fall asleep in the bath, and if she slipped beneath the water and drowned, well¡­ so be it. But Eli was watching her son, and her son was in his beastly indoor manifestation, and it wouldn¡¯t be polite to give up and die and leave the poor man to babysit eternally. So she scrubbed herself clean and climbed reluctantly out of the tub while the water was still warm. She¡¯d kept a set of clothes clean, which she dug out and tossed on the bed, eyeing the door separating her room from its neighbor. She trusted Eli not to barge in while she was naked, but she had no such faith in Nick. Padding over to the door, still wrapped in her towel, she turned the deadbolt just in case. She got dressed, combed her hair, and wove the damp curls into a braid so they wouldn¡¯t dry into an unmanageable halo. Then she pulled in a deep, steadying breath, and unlocked the door, giving it a knock before tugging it open. ¡°Hello?¡± She peeked her head in and found the room completely dismantled. Dank Depths, had her son done this much damage in so short a time? The duvet had been removed from the bed and draped over what looked like a small dining table in the corner, the chairs to which had been turned upside down and placed in a suspiciously neat line in the center of the room. The empty drawers had been pulled from the dresser and placed on end against one wall, evenly spaced out. ¡°What¡­¡± Eli sat against the wall by the other door, legs outstretched. He caught her eye and smiled, but held up a hand. ¡°You¡¯ll want to stay back. He¡¯s about to make another run, and he¡¯s determined to beat his time. I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll slow down to go around you.¡± ¡°What are¡ª¡± All her questions were answered when movement caught her eye as Nick exploded from the armchair in the corner by the window. Fighting the draped duvet, he climbed under the table, disappearing for a minute before wrestling his way free of the makeshift curtain. He ran to the bed and hopped up, crawled across it, and hopped down. Ran to the drawers against the wall and clambered over them, taking meticulous care not to knock them over¨Cno small feat with such small legs. Finally, he ran to the overturned chairs and flopped onto his belly, shimmying beneath the small space made by the back and seat. ¡°Hey, hey,¡± Eli called. ¡°No using your legs on the chair tunnel.¡± Nick, Mara noticed, didn¡¯t stop using his legs. But he at least used them less, pulling himself by his arms. When he emerged from beneath the chairs he popped to his feet and hurled himself forward, only saved from braining himself on the door jamb by Eli¡¯s hand, scooping him back and away from danger. ¡°That was your best time yet,¡± Eli declared. ¡°Seven seconds.¡± Nick cheered. Mara was dubious. It had taken seven seconds for him just to clear the last chair. ¡°Well,¡± she said, entering the room now that it was safe and leaning against the stripped bed. ¡°Your knack for Nick-wrangling extends to indoor spaces as well. This is clever.¡± The answering smile had just enough strain to it, she got the sudden, distinct impression that he¡¯d not come up with this idea on his own. The joy in it, the clever utilization of ordinary objects for the sake of fun and adventure¨Cthe whole setup tasted bittersweetly of Davy. Was this a game they had played together as children? ¡°Alright, my love,¡± she said, clapping her hands and driving that thought¨Cand the desire it brought forth to lay down and weep herself dry¨Cfrom her mind. ¡°Let¡¯s help Eli set his room to rights so he can have a bath.¡± She and Eli straightened the room while Nick offered his usual brand of nonhelp, and by the time Eli¡¯s tub was full, the obstacle course had been converted back to regular inn-room furnishings. Back in her own room, she had Nick help her pull the dirty clothes out of her pack to send to the laundry, repacked the precious items into the small drawstring bag she used for Nick¡¯s things, and generally kept her hands and her mind busy. Until, of course, there was nothing left to do except sit and watch Nick poke about the room, discover the remains of the soap by the tub, and squish it to flaky goo between his hands. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. She was pondering the risk and potential reward of stopping Nick from further mutilating the soap when Eli knocked on her door and said he¡¯d be ready to go in five minutes, if she wanted to eat supper. Eli met her in the hallway, but stopped her just as she was locking her door, her small satchel of precious objects over her shoulder and her son on her hip. ¡°Lorraine and her partner invited us for supper,¡± he said. Too much, Mara¡¯s brain screamed. Not right now. ¡°That was nice of them,¡± she said. ¡°They have a daughter, Adeline. She¡¯s a couple years older than Nick.¡± ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡± She did love for Nick to play with other children. It was so hard, finding friends for him amidst all the machinations. ¡°And it started raining while we were cleaning up.¡± Mara knew. The first splatter of droplets had struck the thick-paned window while she bathed. ¡°We could eat in the barroom, but it¡¯s already on its way to crowded and I don¡¯t know if¨C¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to talk me into it,¡± she snapped¨Csnapped¨Cat the man who had, for reasons that still eluded her, risked his life to escort her this far. Had healed her, fed her, sheltered her, protected her, cared for and entertained her son. Had done everything in his power to make every step of this miserable journey less miserable. She snapped at him. Because she did not want to eat dinner with his friend, who was happy to see him instead of sad to see him without Davy. She didn¡¯t want to smile and make small talk beneath layers of veiled pity and forced cheer, because she was such a terrible mother, she couldn¡¯t bear to tell her son that his father was dead. She would rather have gone out in the rain. Rather have sat in the crowded barroom. Rather have tucked herself into bed, fully clothed with an empty stomach. But Nick needed food, and Eli needed a night among friends, so of course they were going to accept the generous invitation. ¡°I¡¯m not¡­¡± I¡¯m not a selfish cretin. I¡¯m just sad. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Really, though, I don¡¯t need convincing. I¡¯d love to meet your friends.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not just my friends,¡± he said, in that low, even tone she hated so much because it always took the fire out of her. ¡°They¡¯re Davy¡¯s. They¡¯ve wanted to meet you for years.¡± Before she could decide how to respond to that, he went on. ¡°Just so you¡¯re prepared¨CLori¡¯s partner is a woman. Her name is Becca.¡± Mara opened her mouth, and then she closed it. What was there to say? She¡¯d known such things happened. She read books. She spoke to people. She knew the love a woman shared with a man¨Cthe sweaty sheets and shared futures kind of love¨Ccould be shared between a woman and another woman. Between a man and another man. Between people whose form and format defied the definable reaches of the scale between woman and man. She¡¯d even seen it¨Cquietly, at the very edges of what was spoken and shared. But she¡¯d never done anything like share a meal with two women who loved each other in the light of day and, apparently, shared a daughter. The Order¡¯s rules made such a thing unthinkable. Unknowable. How should she behave? What should she do? ¡°Will that be a problem?¡± The blunt edge to Eli¡¯s voice brought her attention to him. His eyes were narrow, and she wondered what he would say if she told him it would be? How would he choose, between the honor of his friends and his commitment to her? ¡°Of course not,¡± she said, because of course, it wasn¡¯t a problem. Of course, even if it was a problem, she wouldn¡¯t force him to make such a choice. ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ I would never take issue. It just took me aback. I¡¯m not used to it.¡± His posture relaxed and he reached out and took Nick from her arms¨Can exchange they¡¯d done so many times over the past few weeks she almost didn¡¯t notice it happen. ¡°You will be. Things are different outside the Order¡¯s control.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ve been told,¡± she said, as she followed him toward the stairs. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re all counting on, isn¡¯t it?¡± (28) Sins of Honor Mara did not have time to be thrown off-balance by the woman-woman partnership. She did not even have much time to be sad, from that point forward in the evening. On the ground floor, they turned right down a hallway just short of the barroom and stopped at the last door on the left, which bore an ornately-carved golden knocker, the plate crafted to resemble cresting waves, the knocker itself shaped like an anchor. Eli used the anchor to rap three times, and footsteps beyond preceded the door flying open to reveal a woman¨Cnot Lori¨Cwhose dark hair was fashioned into two low, perfectly symmetrical knots. ¡°Hi, Becca,¡± he said, when she merely stood in the door and stared at him with tears in her eyes. ¡°Lori told you we were coming?¡± The woman¡¯s amber gaze flicked to Nick, then to Mara, and then returned to Eli. She appeared to be biting the inside of her lip. ¡°Yes,¡± she finally managed, only parting her lips long enough to breathe the single word before clamping them shut again. ¡°Can we come in?¡± She stepped back and Eli nodded at Mara to precede him inside. With the door shut behind them, Becca seemed to regain some of her equilibrium. ¡°Lori¡¯s getting the dinner rush sorted, but she¡¯ll be here in ten minutes with the food,¡± she said, as they doffed their shoes and followed her deeper into the apartment. She pointed out the dining room and summoned her daughter¨Ca precocious little girl with orange hair and abundant freckles, who hugged Eli about the leg and then immediately seized Nick by the hand and said she wanted to show him her toybox. Nick looked at Eli. Eli looked at Mara. Mara shrugged. ¡°As long as I can see you, Nicky.¡± They spent the next five minutes getting the children settled on a rug between the sitting room and the dining room¨Cthankfully separated by nothing but a change in decor. Mara didn¡¯t know if her nerves could handle a wall between her and her son. Becca offered wine, which Mara accepted. Maybe she¡¯d be a better houseguest, a better person, if she got a little tipsy. Lori arrived shortly thereafter, carrying two massive wicker baskets that filled the apartment with the smell of roast meat and herbs. Mara¡¯s efforts to help lay out dinner were, to her relief, accepted. Becca set her to work helping to unpack the baskets while Eli disappeared into the kitchen with Lori to fetch water and more wine. Unfortunately, that left her alone with Becca and the two distracted children. ¡°We are so sorry,¡± the woman murmured, casting a glance to Nick and Adeline before reaching out to lay a hand on her arm. ¡°Eli told us that Nick doesn¡¯t know, and as parents we respect that. I won¡¯t bring it up again. But I didn¡¯t want all of dinner to go by without us telling you how very sorry we are for your loss.¡± ¡°Oh. I¡­¡± Mara looked down at the woman¡¯s slender fingers on her arm. Her stomach roiled. She did not want this. She didn¡¯t want sympathy from strangers. She wanted to go to sleep, to play pretend. ¡°Thank you.¡± Becca squeezed her arm before returning to her task, and Mara took another sip of her wine, though some might have called it more of a bracing gulp. By the time they sat down to dinner, she¡¯d finished the glass of wine and was feeling, in general, much more amenable to existence and much less persecuted by Lori and Becca¡¯s kindness. The children ate separately, in view but out of earshot, and their hostesses kept up a steady stream of conversation. Lori in particular went to great pains to keep the attention off Mara, turning the conversation away every time they drifted too close to Davy. As a consequence, Mara spent most of dinner learning about Lori and Becca. Becca was Ralini, and had crossed the Stormway as a teenager to spread what she laughingly called ¡®the gospel of freedom,¡¯ only to have all of her supplies and money seized by the Order upon landing. ¡°I could have gone home,¡± she said lightly, as if the decision was inconsequential. ¡°They left me my travel documents. But then I met a girl who offered to share her supper and I couldn¡¯t have left her behind.¡± Lori blushed and reached over to take Becca¡¯s hand, lifting it to press a kiss to her knuckles. ¡°I still think it was the stupidest decision you ever made.¡± ¡°Probably.¡± Becca shrugged. ¡°But it was also the best.¡± Lori, Mara learned, was born in Southport to an alcoholic mother and a fisherman lost to sea when she was six. She had taken to selling her body when she was fourteen¨Ca tragic piece of backstory, delivered with a smile and a laughing eye roll, as if such was the fate of everyone, in some way or another. Which, Mara thought, it most certainly wasn¡¯t. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°I hid money everywhere,¡± she explained, gesticulating with her fork. ¡°Under the floorboards, in my mattress, in flour sacks. Flour sacks were the safest. That old drunk would sooner starve than bake a loaf of bread. ¡®Round about the time I¡¯d saved enough to run, I met Becca.¡± Becca, who apparently had a penchant for pickpocketing, had been living on the streets for several months and had just amassed enough money for passage back to Ralin. Instead, she and Lori had run together. A rash decision, but a good one, as it turned out. They¡¯d split the cost of a small room at a boarding house in Cinder and found jobs¨CBecca using her literacy to secure employment as a bookkeeper, Lori serving ale at a taproom down in the southern quarter. The southern quarter, Mara was made to understand, fell more in line with her original expectations of Cinder. ¡°And the rest is history,¡± Lori concluded, as if the path from impoverished menial laborers to thriving business owners was an obvious one. It wasn¡¯t, of course, and Mara wanted to know more. But she had more pressing questions. ¡°And how did you meet Davy?¡± she asked, glancing at her travel companion. ¡°And Eli.¡± Her initial guess that he and Lori were lovers no longer felt plausible, but that left the question¨Cwhy such a vehement reaction to his appearance? ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a good story,¡± Lori said, bouncing in her seat. Becca sighed and served herself another helping of roasted potatoes. ¡°It¡¯s a dreadful story. Lori is twisted in the mind,¡± she said dryly, but her gaze was fond, resting soft and easy on her partner¡¯s face. ¡°It¡¯s not a dreadful story, it¡¯s exciting!¡± Lori waved her fork in dismissal. ¡°So as you know, Mara, Cinder generally operates outside of Order control.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Mara dipped her chin in a nod. ¡°But sometimes, they send patrols through. Just to keep everybody scared. They¡¯ll pick a few shady businesses to raid¨Cnone of the big companies, of course¨C and haul a few lowlifes off in chains, that kind of thing. We never worry too much about it. Nobody does who¡¯s running a legitimate business. The Order comes after the hard criminals, mostly. Sins of honor, like ours,¡± she cast a dramatic, sultry expression at Becca, who rolled her eyes, ¡°are generally overlooked. You know how it is. The closer you are to the Capital, the more they care about things that don¡¯t matter. Out here, they¡¯re just hanging on to control.¡± Mara didn¡¯t know. She was beginning to wonder if there was anything she did know. But she nodded in silent encouragement, and Lori went on. ¡°Well, a few years back¨CSweet Sisters, what would it have been?¡± ¡°Four,¡± Becca said. ¡°Four and a half.¡± ¡°Oh. Yeah. Of course,¡± Lori laughed, casting a fond glance toward Adeline. ¡°It would¡¯ve been four and a half. Anyway, an Order patrol came through and they sent your husband around to all the inns. Some routine effort to seed Cinder with Order spies. He walked through the door, sidled up to the bar with one of those slimy order lieutenants, all smooth and casual, and started laying down persuasive magic. ¡®Take notes on comings and goings, record suspicious activity,¡¯ that sort of thing. I hardly remember. I¡¯d been having pains all morning. Labor type pains, you know, but too early.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Mara breathed. ¡°How terrible.¡± ¡°It was. Like I said, I hardly remember that first visit. I was so dizzy and sick, they might not have even been doing persuasive magic.¡± ¡°They were,¡± Becca interjected. ¡°They got to me, too.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right!¡± Lori exclaimed. ¡°Yes, they visited Becca¡¯s work. We were running the inn together, but she still worked part time down at the bank.¡± ¡°They came to the bank, Davy and the lieutenant,¡± Becca took over. ¡°The lieutenant asked questions, and Davy persuaded the answers out of us.¡± She shuddered. ¡°I really hated him, for a moment there. They laid the same magic on us before they left, the same kind of command¨Ctake notes on large sums of money, stuff like that. But right before they left, the lieutenant was already out the door, Davy leaned in close and told me I needed to get back to the inn. I don¡¯t know if he used persuasive magic, or if I was just so rattled. As soon as they left, I ran back, found Lori in the kitchen, unconscious and bleeding.¡± ¡°Depths,¡± Mara breathed. ¡°A miscarriage?¡± ¡°Almost,¡± Lori said, with dissonant cheer. ¡°Davy showed up that night with this one in tow,¡± she pointed at Eli with her fork. ¡°He saved Adi and I, and then Davy explained their true mission and wove us all shields. We¡¯ve been working for the rebellion ever since. It¡¯s not much¨C¡± ¡°It¡¯s plenty,¡± Eli interjected. ¡°It¡¯s not much,¡± Becca said sternly. ¡°It¡¯s not enough, considering what you did for our family.¡± ¡°Not nearly enough,¡± Lori agreed, turning back to Mara. ¡°We just lead the Order astray when they come through. Act like the persuasive magic is still working on us, feed them bogus information. And when rebels come around, we board them at a discount. It¡¯s really not much.¡± ¡°Small gains¨C¡± ¡°--add up,¡± Becca finished, rolling her eyes at Eli, at his quoting of the rebellion¡¯s fourth tenant. ¡°We know. But still. We want to do more. We want to fight.¡± ¡°If you try to do more, you¡¯ll put yourselves in danger,¡± Eli said, his voice taut. ¡°Better to stay safe and keep doing the work you¡¯re doing. The rebellion needs safe havens, information, and supply routes just as badly as it needs fighters. More¡­¡± He trailed off, turning his attention back to his food, jaw tight. Mara looked from him to Lori to Becca. Both women studied him with inscrutable expressions. ¡°You¡¯re doing more than enough,¡± he concluded woodenly, taking a bite of brisket. Lori exchanged a look with Becca, whose lips curved into a sad smile, then turned to Mara. ¡°Enough about us, though. Tell us about you!¡± (29) Nonverbal Cues Mara told Becca and Lori more than she normally shared with strangers, encouraged by their own forthrightness and, if she was honest with herself, by her second glass of wine. She shared her childhood¨Clearning lay magic at her mother¡¯s knee, foraging with her in the city parks. She shared her mother¡¯s long sickness and eventual death, which left her alone with her father. ¡°He wasn¡¯t unkind to me,¡± she said. ¡°But he loved my mother to the point of distraction. Her death undid him somewhat.¡± She swallowed hard, wondering if the same fate awaited her, held at bay only by these strange secret dreams and the hope they offered. ¡°He and my mother had always worked for the rebellion, much like you two do, but as a physik she had more to contribute to the underground than he did. After she died, I think he lost his way. He grew distant, so I just picked up my mother¡¯s work and carried on with it. Until Davy, anyway. My father was close friends with the Swifts. When word got ¡®round that Davy was looking for a wife, he offered me up like chattel. Not that I regret it,¡± she said quickly. ¡°But I was bitter in the beginning. I think he wanted to get me out of the house. I look too much like my mother. That old story.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± Becca said, nodding. ¡°My own parents couldn¡¯t stand the sight of me after my brother died, so I¨C¡± She broke off with the sound of a soft thump under the table, glaring at Lori who was glaring right back. Becca¡¯s eyes flicked down to her plate. ¡°I understand,¡± she said simply. ¡°But this conversation has turned a bit grim, hasn¡¯t it? Tell us about your journey. How did you escape the city?¡± Mara glanced at Eli, who shook his head with a grimace. ¡°Better if we don¡¯t share specifics,¡± he explained to Becca and Lori before turning back to Mara. ¡°Though everything from Loftland on is fair game.¡± Thus reassured, Mara launched contentedly into a dramatized retelling of their journey through the enchanted woodland, lingering for the sake of their hosts¡¯ amusement on the truth serum, and then on the fight with the outlaws. ¡°Why in the world did you put the poor woman up a tree?¡± Lori asked, interrupting the story to frown at Eli, laughter in her eyes. He shrugged. ¡°They had an archer. It kept her out of range.¡± Mara furrowed her brow at him. ¡°We hadn¡¯t even seen them. How did you know they had an archer?¡± ¡°Keep working on your sensing exercises and maybe I¡¯ll show you.¡± Mara turned back to Lori and Becca. ¡°Do you see what I¡¯ve been dealing with? The man¡¯s incapable of giving a straight answer.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Lori hummed in agreement. ¡°It¡¯s one of his worst qualities.¡± ¡°One of,¡± Eli huffed. Laughing, Mara carried on with the rest of the story, and before long she and Eli were helping to clear the plates, Becca waving off their offer to help with the cleanup. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of it after you leave. Go sit down, and I¡¯ll bring drinks. Mara, brandy or tea?¡± ¡°Oh, brandy,¡± Mara said eagerly, not wanting to lose the pleasant warmth that buzzed in her veins and made it easier not to think. ¡°Thank you. Can I please help with the dishes, though?¡± ¡°Absolutely not. Eli? Tea or brandy?¡± ¡°Tea¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°On its way. Go sit. Please.¡± Nick and Adeline were already occupied in the corner of the sitting room, the little girl explaining to Nick how best to play with dolls and that they were going to be taking them on an adventure in the mountains. Nick seemed happy enough to play along. Her son was an excellent follower, so long as the one giving commands wasn¡¯t Mara. Lori came in with a tea tray just after they got settled, Becca on her heels with a couple of snifters and a brown glass bottle. Mara found herself reclining in an armchair by the fire, feet up on a soft footstool, belly full of rich food, limbs loose, mind languid. ¡°So,¡± Becca said, turning to Eli as Adi and Nick wandered into the dining room to begin their dolls¡¯ expedition, ¡°What¡¯s next?¡± Mara looked to Eli. Eli looked to Mara. ¡°It¡¯s up to you,¡± he said, reminding her of the choice he¡¯d offered. The choice she¡¯d been mulling over since Loftland. The choice she¡¯d made, several nights ago, during one of her dark, lonely guard shifts. She couldn¡¯t run. Not from the only family her son had, his only chance at knowing more of his father than what she could tell him herself. Nor could she run from the fight that had defined her own purpose since she was a girl. The Order had spread its insidious tendrils far enough and terrorized its citizens for far too long. If there was a war to come, she meant to be a part of it. ¡°We¡¯re headed north,¡± she said, holding Eli¡¯s gaze with her own. His chin dipped in a nod, and something flickered in his eyes that she couldn¡¯t interpret. Maybe just a reflection of the fire¡¯s dancing flames. ¡°North to the Enclave,¡± Eli clarified for their hosts. ¡°To Elise and Rorick.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good, I suppose,¡± Lori said with a soft smile, looking from Mara to Eli. ¡°It¡¯ll be nice to be with family.¡± ¡°I hope so,¡± Mara answered. ¡°Davy spoke so highly of his parents. I¡¯m eager to meet them.¡± A lie, of course, her real desire being to run away from anything that reminded her of Davy¡¯s absence. But it was one of those lies she was expected to say. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Becca, who sat beside her at the end of a worn loveseat, reached across the divide between them and patted her hand. ¡°We really are so sorry,¡± she murmured, her voice too low for the chattering kids to hear. ¡°He was a good man.¡± Mara chased the lump down her throat with a sip of brandy and forced a smile. ¡°He was.¡± To her relief, the conversation drifted away from her after that, Lori and Becca conversing in low tones with Eli. Their conversation had a practiced rhythm to it, the cadence of routine, the women sharing movements from the coast, the rise and fall of criminal leaders, which trafficked goods were plentiful and which were dwindling. Eli, on the other hand, shared vague assessments of rebel support. ¡°Clearwater is the holdout,¡± he was telling them, just as Mara finished her brandy and moved on to tea. ¡°There¡¯s enough money coming through, life is decent enough even under Order control.¡± ¡°Except for the ones who don¡¯t fit the mold,¡± Lori said bitterly. ¡°Except those,¡± Eli said with a nod. ¡°But they¡¯re outnumbered in Clearwater, and it¡¯s a cush assignment for Order officers. Few there are ripe to turn. Your river pirate, Westland? He might look to expanding his operation toward the peninsula, put some pressure on the luxury merchants.¡± Becca wrinkled her nose, but nodded. ¡°He¡¯s hardly ours. The man is odious. But understood. What about Bedford?¡± Eli shook his head. ¡°The fighting network is ready, especially after our last trip. But their only supply route runs directly through the Capital. We haven¡¯t invested nearly the time and manpower we need into the Prosco and the High Desert.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think we could flip the Wanderers?¡± Lori prodded. ¡°The Order¡¯s never been kind to them.¡± Eli shook his head. ¡°We could, but they¡¯re peaceful people. In all of written history, they¡¯ve never taken up arms, so they¡¯re not considered a priority.¡± Mara struggled to keep up, struggled even harder to keep her mind on the conversation and not on how wretchedly ignorant she was. How were these women permitted to know so much when she had been told so little? On and on the conversation went, with Mara capturing the overall gist if not all the specifics¨Cthe rebellion, thanks to the efforts of Davy and shadow-casters like him, had managed to amass a significant network of quiet supporters, fighters whose minds were shielded from Order persuasion and who now sat waiting, itching for the call to rise up. More were needed in a few key cities, Clearwater being one, but the sense of impending change loomed. For decades, nearly a century, the rebellion had been an underground operation. Now, it was poised to break out into the light of day. Or it ought to be. Eli seemed to think otherwise, though he never said so outright. Mara might not have noticed, had she not spent the last several weeks becoming intimate with the little quirks of his nonverbal cues. The tap of his thumb against the side of his cup when he talked about supply lines, the tightening of his jaw when the discussion turned to Bedford. He hid something. Mara just didn¡¯t quite know what. She itched to retire to bed, to slip into her dreams and interrogate her erstwhile dead husband about all this. It probably wouldn¡¯t work, what with the dreamworld¡¯s aversion to substantive conversation, but perhaps she could sneak it in, at least get a sense of his opinions before they were forced to easier subjects or she was forcibly ejected from the dream. Eli, ever sensitive to her shifting moods, begged off another round of drinks and said they ought to head to bed. While he helped carry their glasses and tea tray to the kitchen, Mara pried Nick away from his new friend. Their hostesses saw them to the door, waving off Mara¡¯s profuse gratitude for their hospitality. ¡°It¡¯s the least we can do,¡± Lori said, casting Eli a teasing, grumpy look. ¡°Literally, the least we can do.¡± He rolled his eyes and waved a hand, promising to return for supper again tomorrow, and took Nick from Mara for the long climb up the stairs. Nick was already dozing on Eli¡¯s shoulder by the time they reached their rooms, one hand tangled loosely in his shirt, the other dangling. Mara unlocked the door and hurried to pull down the covers so Eli could deposit his burden on the bed. ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered as she set about removing her son¡¯s boots and tucking him in. ¡°No trouble. I¡¯ll come get you in the morning for breakfast.¡± Before she could answer, he¡¯d let himself out through the door between their rooms. Probably eager to get a little time to himself, Mara thought. Still loose-limbed and boozy, she saw to her own cleanup, and then slipped out of her pants and climbed into the bed beside Nick. The pillow and mattress had a life of their own as they cradled her body, the plain cotton sheets satin smooth against her skin after so many days of scratchy wool. Though she¡¯d spent every night in that four-poster bed with Davy, the sensations of this real one were somehow richer, textured by the little body aches that never followed her into the dreams. Amidst such luxury, Mara expected to plummet into sleep, but it evaded her. When the sounds of her own movement died down, there was nothing to replace them. The room was too big, the patter of the rain too distant. Nick snored softly beside her, cuddled close, and the room was plenty warm. So why did she feel cold? Isolated? Biting her lip, she slipped from under the covers and reached for her pants, pulling them on before padding to do the door connecting her room to Eli¡¯s. She hesitated before knocking and probably wouldn¡¯t have knocked at all if not for the wine and brandy still coursing through her veins. Raising her hand, she tapped one knuckle against the wooden door. In seconds, she heard the fall of footsteps on creaky floorboards, and Eli¡¯s low voice sounded through the door. ¡°Mara?¡± She swallowed and leaned her forehead against the cool wood, fingers curled around the handle. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°Can I¡­.¡± She stopped and cleared her throat. ¡°Can I open the door?¡± The handle slipped out of her grip as he opened it for her, and she saw that the room behind him, like hers, was dark. ¡°Did I wake you?¡± He reached up and scrubbed a hand through tousled hair. ¡°No.¡± She¡¯d learned to read his face in the darkness over the past weeks, well enough at least to know he was lying. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to. I was just wondering¡­.¡± She pulled in a deep breath, grateful that the darkness hid the heat of her face. After all he¡¯d done for her, she should be used to needing his help, but this was somehow worse. Something about asking gave her need a bitter aftertaste. ¡°I was wondering if I could leave the door cracked open? I think I¡¯ve gotten used to¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­¡± She didn¡¯t know. Had she gotten used to him? What an absurd thought. She¡¯d never gotten so used to Davy that she couldn¡¯t sleep without him when he left. Then again, she¡¯d never been on the run for her life with Davy. It was a dependency thing, probably. Something to do with the danger. Oblivious to her mental meandering, Eli merely nodded. ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± She backed away from the open door. ¡°Thank you. Sleep well.¡± ¡°You too, Mara.¡± With the door open, she did. (30) Jealousy When Mara woke into the dream that night, Davy was not in the bed beside her but sitting across the room, by the open window. The air wafting through the gauzy curtains smelled of spring¨Cdamp and sweet. ¡°Morning,¡± she yawned, stretching her arms over her head. ¡°Come back to bed?¡± He was dressed for it. Or, rather, not dressed for it, in nothing but a pair of soft pants, his hair flattened on one side and wild on top. He sat in the window seat, and the curtains brushed his bare arm, the side of his bent leg as they billowed inward with the breeze. ¡°Not right now.¡± He didn¡¯t look at her, his gaze turned to something distant out the window. ¡°Davy?¡± She sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± he said, the cadence of the declaration unmistakably terse. ¡°You¡¯re upset.¡± Wrapping the sheets around herself, she shuffled over to the window seat and leaned her hip against the ledge, next to his. ¡°Tell me,¡± she urged, smoothing a hand down his leg. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°Liar.¡± He turned away from the window to face her, and she bit the inside of her lip when his glassy, red-rimmed eyes met hers. ¡°My love,¡± she whispered, framing his face in her hands. ¡°What is it?¡± Wrapping his fingers around her right wrist, he turned his face toward her hand and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. Closed his eyes. Whispered his secret to her fingers as she had whispered her own to his that first night in Ashfall. ¡°You¡¯re going to forget me.¡± ¡°No,¡± she gasped. The denial exploded out of her, as if he¡¯d punched her in the stomach. ¡°Davy, no. I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°You will.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± A tear broke loose from the corner of his eye and darted down over his cheek before evaporating. Another followed, and she bent to kiss it away. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± she said again, salt on her tongue. ¡°I promise you, I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°Your life keeps going on, Mara, and I¡¯m not there.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± She pushed at his side until he moved over in the seat, and she squeezed herself up onto the ledge beside him, hugging his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. After a moment, she felt the pressure of his head atop hers. Tacet acquiescence to her comfort. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll forget you. It only makes me miss you more.¡± ¡°Every time you need me and I¡¯m not there¡­.¡± He trailed off with a physical shudder, and she pressed herself closer, clinging to his arm like it was the only thing between her and a plummet to her death. ¡°I want to be there, Mara. You have questions, you¡¯re frightened, you¡¯re tired, you¡¯re sad. You¡¯re alone in the dark.¡± As he said the words, the bright spring daylight blinked out. The room disappeared. Mara looked down, and found herself garbed not in fine cotton sheets but in her walking gear. For a disorienting moment, she thought she must have dozed off during her guard shift and now woken, but¡­ no. She¡¯d gone to sleep in her room in Cinder, and this wasn¡¯t quite real. The sounds of the forest were dull, the cold known rather than felt. And Davy sat beside her, illuminated half by silver moonlight and half by the muted red glow of a darknight fire. He had the appearance of a man who had been on the road for weeks on end¨Cdressed in worn traveling clothes, his hair overgrown. In the muted glow and dancing shadows, dressed so differently from how she was used to seeing him, his face shielded by beard growth¡­ for a moment, he could have been Eli. Then he turned to her, eyes bright and familiar, and he was Davy. ¡°I should be with you here,¡± he said.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Mara studied the fuzzy red haze over the fire, unsure what to say. If he knew about this¨Cabout her sitting in the dark during her guardshifts¨Cthen he ought to know that this scene was incomplete. She was never alone in the dark, not truly. ¡°Are you upset because I¡¯m alone?¡± she asked, realization dawning. ¡°Or are you upset because I¡¯m not?¡± His answer came quick and sharp. ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°You¡¯re accusing me of being jealous.¡± ¡°It seems to me that you are jealous, Davy! You¡¯re not afraid I¡¯m going to forget you, because you know well that I could never. You¡¯re afraid I¡¯m going to move on.¡± All the fight went out of the air, the tension deflating with a heavy sigh. Mara let the silence stretch, because it wasn¡¯t her silence to fill. Finally, Davy spoke, his voice flat and defeated. ¡°Will you?¡± It almost brought her anger back, his asking such a question of her. Her grief was still so new, so overpowering. Though she knew, in her mind, that many widows before her had survived such a loss, it still didn¡¯t feel in her heart as if she would be one of them. How dare he assume that she knew what life looked like on the far side of this yawning chasm when she hadn¡¯t even finished falling into it? ¡°Davy¡­¡± She swallowed her anger, not because it was unjust but because what use would there be in picking a fight with a dream? Instead, she answered with all the honest love she could muster. ¡°Davy, my love, I don¡¯t know. It doesn¡¯t feel as if I¡¯ll move on. It feels as if each day without you my heart beats slower. Like I¡¯m dying too, just not as quickly.¡± He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t want that.¡± ¡°I know.¡± She scooted her pack closer to his and looped her arms around his waist, head once more on his shoulder. ¡°And I don¡¯t think I will die. I wouldn¡¯t do that to Nick. But love¡­ I can¡¯t predict whether my heart will heal from this, or what it¡¯ll beat for if it does.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Sitting up straighter, he wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and squeezed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You have enough to worry over without me ruining your sleep. I¡¯m meant to be comforting you.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be silly,¡± she teased, squeezing him harder. ¡°We don¡¯t hide from each other. I don¡¯t want that to change, just because¨C¡± ¡°Just because I¡¯m dead?¡± ¡°Davy! You¨C¡± can¡¯t say that, she would have finished. But before she could scold him, the night gave way to a soft bed and Nick bouncing on his knees beside her, yanking on the sleeve of her shirt. Mara rose, bleary eyed, and prepared herself and her son for the day. She brushed their hair, cleaned their teeth, washed their faces, and got them dressed. All the while, her mind slowly transitioned from the intimacy of the dream back to the busy requirements of reality. As much as she wanted to spend the day in bed, pondering Davy¡¯s worries and the possible outcomes of her own broken heart, there was no time. She needed to find food. She needed to conjure some way to entertain Nick during a day indoors. She needed to go with Eli for supplies, and talk to Lori and Becca, whom she liked and, consequently, wanted to know better. She needed answers to her questions about the rebellion¨Canswers she would never get from Davy. Even in life, unhampered by the arbitrary rules of whatever overbearing overseer controlled their nightly visitations, he hadn¡¯t been forthcoming with rebel information. In death, he was a book with all the pertinent pages glued together. Footsteps creaked across the floor of the adjoining room. Mara went to the door, which she¡¯d pulled shut and locked upon rising so Nick wouldn¡¯t go barreling through, and knocked. Several seconds later, Eli pulled it open. She opened her mouth to say good morning, but what came out instead was an alarmed, ¡°Are you alright?¡± He did not look like a man who¡¯d just had a proper night¡¯s rest for the first time in weeks. He looked like he¡¯d just returned from a night at the debauched southern quarter¨Ceyes bloodshot and sunken, skin sallow. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said, bending to pick up the rabid child who had been attempting to climb his pant leg. ¡°How did you sleep?¡± ¡°Better than you, it looks like,¡± Mara said with a wince. ¡°I don¡¯t sleep well indoors.¡± Before Mara could point out how inadequate that answer was to explain his appearance, he went on, shifting Nick from one arm to the other. ¡°Becca just stopped by. She¡¯s off to work, but we can join Lori and Adeline for breakfast if you like.¡± Mara narrowed her eyes, conveying with her expression that she wasn¡¯t stupid, she knew he was deliberately evading her concern, and she wouldn¡¯t be so easily distracted. Eli raised his eyebrows, conveying with his expression that he wasn¡¯t stupid either, he just didn¡¯t have time to creatively evade her concern, but she was a fool if she thought this was a battle she could win. Mara pressed her lips together. Eli smirked. Mara sighed. At the end of the day, what right did she have to pester him about the quality of his sleep? She certainly wasn¡¯t forthcoming with the pertinent details about her own. ¡°Breakfast with Lori and Adeline sounds perfect,¡± she said through a fixed smile. Let him enjoy his victory. If he thought it would be a peaceful meal, he was mistaken. Mara had questions. (31) Absurd Children Mara did not have any answers. She suspected she may never have any answers. Because what she did have was a two-year-old son, overtired from an exciting late night and energized by the novelty of his circumstances. Nick monopolized all of the adult attention in the room from the moment they arrived. He chattered, giggled, yelled, banged his fork against the table, whined, spilled a glass of milk, interrupted conversations, scattered his food across the table, and otherwise made his presence acutely known for the duration of the meal. Mara¡¯s efforts to preoccupy him in pursuits less disruptive were soundly dismissed. Even Eli¡¯s efforts at distraction fell short of effective. By the time everyone was finished trying to eat, Mara had been reduced to a frazzled mass of parental shame, and if she¡¯d had five minutes to actually talk with Lori or Eli, she would not have asked any of her burning, big-picture questions. She¡¯d have spent the entire time apologizing for apparently being the least effective mother in recorded history. Not that it mattered, because she didn¡¯t have five minutes. As soon as she released him from his seat, Nick tore off to Adeline¡¯s toy box while the poor girl hurried after him, genuine fear on her little face. Mara wrangled her son before he could wreak havoc on his new friend¡¯s prized possessions, but not before Eli had gathered himself to head out the door. Going for supplies, he explained, after drawing her to the side of the sitting room to announce his departure. Apparently noticing the trepidation on her face, he asked¨Cdid she want to stay here at Lori¡¯s or upstairs in her room? What Mara really wanted was to go with him and leave her son behind. But that wasn¡¯t an option, for obvious reasons, so she was left with the odious option of entertaining her maniacal offspring for hours alone in that tiny room, or entertaining her maniacal offspring for hours in Lori¡¯s accommodating company in this lovely well-kept apartment. ¡°It¡¯s no trouble at all if you want to stay,¡± Lori said, popping her head in from the kitchen to interrupt Mara¡¯s internal battle. ¡°I told him to tell you that. I love having company, and I don¡¯t have to work in the barroom today. Adi and I will bore ourselves to death here if we¡¯re left all alone. Eli, you were supposed to tell her that.¡± Eli¡¯s eyes locked with Mara¡¯s, face twisting into a chagrined smile, like they were sharing some kind of inside joke. Were they? ¡°I was getting to it.¡± ¡°Will you stay?¡± Lori prodded, eyes bright, smile sweet and genuine. Eli grimaced, shot his friend a quelling look, took Mara by the elbow, and drew her to the far side of the room. ¡°You can say no,¡± he said, voice so low she had to lean in a little just to hear him. ¡°If it¡¯s too much, she¡¯ll understand.¡± It was too much, but not in the way he meant. Still, Mara decided to accept the offer. She didn¡¯t want to further inconvenience their hostess, but it would be rude to decline and she couldn¡¯t help but weigh the cost of staying against the thought of entertaining Nick in the small, featureless room upstairs. ¡°Are you sure she doesn¡¯t mind?¡± she whispered, dubious. ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°You promise?¡± He lifted a brow. ¡°Should we brew her up a truth serum?¡± Mara crossed her arms over her chest and fought to keep her face serious. ¡°Are you always going to use that against me?¡± ¡°Only until I have something better to hold over your head.¡± Huffing, she dropped her arms and tried to straighten her spine against the trial to come, even as her face lost the scrap for severity and broke into a smile. ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll stay.¡± ~~~ Finally, a chance came to ask questions, about an hour into Mara¡¯s stay with Lori. Adeline and Nick played quietly in the corner of the room¨Ca game that mostly consisted of Adeline marching an army of dolls and carved figurines around the rug, regaling Nick with details about each hero¡¯s qualities. The doll with hair of purple yarn was apparently a great sailor. The horse with the chipped ear was a steed of the old gods. With this gentle litany in the background, Mara and Lori relaxed into their respective seats with two warm mugs of tea. Mara opened her mouth to ask questions, but she couldn¡¯t decide how best to open the conversation. Now that you have a chance to relax, would you mind telling me everything you know about the rebellion? Yes, yes, I know I should probably already know these things, having been married for three years to a high-level officer¨Cthe heir to rebel high command, no less. But the thing is that he never told me anything. That wouldn¡¯t do. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Before she could come up with something better, Adelie twisted around and asked her mother if she and her friend could have something to drink. The moment passed, and it took some time for another to present itself. Perhaps if Nick and Adeline were in a more developed stage of friendship, their mothers might have had a moment to talk. But they were still new to each other, and therefore full of questions and insecurities, needy for adult input any time their play changed course. ¡°I need to get her into some kind of school,¡± Lori whispered after one such check-in, watching Adeline resume her seat on the rug by Nick. ¡°She has so few children to play with, she¡¯s always so unsure of herself when she does.¡± Mara nodded, thinking of the balancing act back in the Capital. Nick hadn¡¯t been old enough for school, but he should have had more children his age to play with. The problem was that she trusted so few other families enough to expose her child to them. And those she did trust¨Cthe other rebels¨Cshe couldn¡¯t interact with for reasons of secrecy. It must be doubly hard for Lori, who ran a business in an outlaw town and gathered information for the rebellion on the side. ¡°She¡¯s so sweet,¡± Mara said, because it felt good to look at another mother and see some of her own struggle in the woman¡¯s eyes, and to see that her kid was still a good kid. ¡°You must be proud of her.¡± ¡°We are,¡± Lori sighed. ¡°We want more for her.¡± ¡°Do you ever think of going somewhere else?¡± Mara asked, her mind taking off on a flight of possibility. What if Lori, Becca, and Adeline came with them to the Enclave? The thought made the prospect of heading back out seem less grim. The nights wouldn¡¯t be so bad if she had five souls, and other women, with whom to share the darkness. ¡°No.¡± Lori¡¯s answer was quick. Sure. ¡°Cinder is home. The balancing act is hard sometimes, but we have friends here. We feel safe here. This is a better place to be than most, all told.¡± ¡°Will you always feel safe here?¡± Mara asked, thinking of the war, ever-present on the horizon since the day of the rebellion¡¯s inception. Now, with Davy¡¯s death, it was closer than ever. ¡°Perhaps not.¡± Lori¡¯s eyes left the children to settle on Mara. ¡°But the life we¡¯ve built here is one we¡¯re willing to fight for.¡± Mara thought of her townhouse, of the life she had built with Davy. That life was never meant to last. They were meant to last. Their family was. But the life was a lie. One that neither of them would have fought for. Nick interrupted the moment, holding a plush red bear up at her. Adeline stood behind him. ¡°You need to hold the baby while we go out fishing,¡± she informed Mara. Mara smiled, remembering her own childhood adventures¨Cthe ones that had taken place half in her mind and half in the safety of the sitting room, her parents occasionally conscripted to participate in the protracted drama of her imagination. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, accepting the doll. ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of him.¡± ¡°She¡¯s a girl,¡± Adeline said with a scowl. ¡°Oh¡­¡± Mara didn¡¯t dare look at Lori, who she could sense was holding back a laugh. If she did, she would laugh as well. ¡°Well, she¡¯s a beautiful little girl isn¡¯t she? What¡¯s her name?¡± ¡°Sinthabetharell,¡± the girl said crisply. ¡°My,¡± Mara choked out, cradling the doll in her arm, ¡°what a beautiful name. You two enjoy your fishing trip. I¡¯ll take good care of the baby.¡± The second the children toddled off, Lori reached across and squeezed Mara¡¯s arm, lips pressed so tightly together they turned white around the edges as she fought to contain her laughter. ¡°What in the Six Seasons was that name?¡± she whispered on a desperate giggle. Mara let loose her own covert laughter, shoulders shaking, and the remainder of the visit passed in a similar rhythm. Nick and Adeline explored different ways to be absurd. Mara and Lori laughingly exchanged commiserative asides about the joys and trials of raising absurd children. All told, it was a pleasant way to spend a morning. Mara wasn¡¯t required, at any point, to don a heavy pack or walk until her feet bled. She didn¡¯t even think about Davy very often, or the Enclave, or Eli, or her questions. All she had to be was a mother, talking to another mother. Until, of course, Eli returned¨Csooner than expected, his arrival heralded by urgent knocking on the front door. Mara followed Lori as the woman hurried to the answer it, peering through the peephole before pulling it open. Eli shut and barred the door behind him as he entered, and Mara¡¯s mind leaped back to the night he¡¯d shown up on her doorstep. It was mostly a blur, but she remembered that moment when he first arrived. That moment of knowing, just by the way he walked in, that something horrible had happened. She stood back by the entrance to the sitting room, but his eyes found hers with unerring accuracy, and once again, she knew. ¡°Order patrol is on its way up the street.¡± He turned to Lori. ¡°We have five minutes. Maybe ten.¡± It shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise that Lori was so calm. She must be accustomed to the periodic disturbances. Nonetheless, the woman¡¯s serene expression made Mara feel as if she was going mad. Did she not understand what was at stake? ¡°We¡¯ve got a warded safe room,¡± she told Mara with a soft smile. ¡°If you get Nick, I¡¯ll take you there.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get the bags,¡± Eli said. ¡°Hide your magical trace but leave the rooms untidy,¡± Lori told him. ¡°We¡¯ll say the folks staying there left this morning.¡± ¡°Your employees?¡± ¡°All shielded, all friendly. And none of them know who you are, anyway. We¡¯ll tell them the same thing we tell the Order. You left this morning. Go, now, and meet us at the safe room.¡± Before hurrying out the door, Eli met Mara¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± he said, as if that might be something she needed to hear. ¡°I promise.¡± It felt almost as if he was using persuasion on her again, such was the calm that melted over her senses. Almost, but not quite. It was different this time. A calm that bubbled up from within instead of falling over her from above. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said, truthfully. ¡°I¡¯m okay. Go.¡± (32) Vermin ¡°You know,¡± Mara whispered into the darkness, ¡°at some point there¡¯s going to be a crisis where I actually have something to contribute.¡± Eli¡¯s answering laughter was a puff of air, a shifting of his body in the small, dark space so that his elbow knocked briefly into hers. They sat together against the wall of the safe room, though it was really more of a safe closet. Nick was not yet spelled into silence. They¡¯d simply implored him to be quiet and he had thus far complied, though Mara had given Eli permission to use persuasion if her son decided to pipe up and give away their location. ¡°In case it escaped your notice, I¡¯m not contributing much here either,¡± he whispered back. ¡°Look me in the eyes and tell me you¡¯re not responsible for the warding on this room.¡± Mara knew he wouldn¡¯t. Couldn¡¯t, and not just because it was too dark and close to make proper eye contact. This place was rank with static persuasion, the push so powerful she herself wouldn¡¯t have seen the door if Lori hadn¡¯t walked her right up to it. Now that she was inside, she could feel that it was Eli¡¯s magic, the persuasion thick and iron-rich. The persuasion was an outward force¨CDon¡¯t look here. Nothing to see. But there were also shadows. Depths-dark and heavy, they draped themselves like velvet curtains over even the persuasion, presenting the outer world with one message¨CNothing. Darkness. Silence.--and the inner world with another¨CSafety. Warmth. Emptiness. Where the persuasion was undeniably Eli, the shadows were pure Davy, so familiar he could have been hiding here with them, his arms wrapped around her, shielding her from danger. ¡°We may have helped with the warding, but that was years ago,¡± Eli said. ¡°Right now, I¡¯m just sitting here.¡± The aggravation in his tone wasn¡¯t difficult to parse. She¡¯d heard the argument outside the door¨Che and Lori, spitting their respective cases at each other while Mara sat, tucked away with their packs in the darkness. Eli¡¯s argument¨Cthat he ought to be with her when the Order came around, to lend his persuasion if they suspected her to be lying¨Cpaled in comparison to Lori¡¯s¨Cthat he was an idiot and better get in the saferoom before his pride got them all hauled off for interrogation. Mara wondered if he would have relented if not for her and Nick and the promise he¡¯d made to keep them safe, but she didn¡¯t have the opportunity to ask, because at that moment they heard the distant sound of the front door swinging open, boots on the floor of the barroom, and conversation too muffled to parse. The safe room had once been a closet¨Cone of the first doors in the hallway off the barroom. Why not the attic or the cellar, Mara wasn¡¯t certain. This certainly felt more exposed, but perhaps there was some logic in hiding in plain sight. Someone might wonder why they hadn¡¯t noted a trapdoor to the attic, but they wouldn¡¯t linger too long, if at all, on the absence of a single door among many. ¡°--won¡¯t mind us taking a look, of course,¡± a male voice was saying as it drew nearer. ¡°Of course not.¡± Lori, her tone saccharine sweet and foggy, affecting the high of persuasion. ¡°Can I get you gentlemen something to drink while you search?¡± ¡°We won¡¯t be long. Best you just stay out of the way.¡± ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll be in my apartments if you need me. My daughter can¡¯t be left alone too long. You know how children can be.¡± Mara forced long, slow breaths into and out of her lungs as she listened to Lori¡¯s soft footfall pass the space in which they were hidden. Then came the interminable wait. With her sight smothered by darkness, her magical senses by Davy¡¯s shadows, Mara had to rely on sound alone to parse together what was happening beyond the confines of the saferoom. She closed her eyes, blocking out the filter of distracting light that crept in from around the door, and focused on the sound of footsteps. Creaking doors. Voices. There were four Order officers, she deduced from the voices. One stayed in the barroom, gleaning what he could from the few drunken patrons scattered through the room, which wasn¡¯t anything, thankfully. Mara assumed that any guests who had seen anything would have had their memories gently blurred by Eli¡¯s persuasion. The rest of the officers divided and began their search¨Ctwo heading up the stairs and the last stalking about the ground floor. Mara knew herself to be behind several layers of protection¨CLori¡¯s lies, the deceptive persuasion, the shadows, Eli. Nonetheless, she was as poignantly afraid as if she had no defenses at all beyond the darkness¨Ca trembling animal, curled into a hole awaiting discovery by the snuffling, stalking, inevitable predator. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The officer¡¯s boots struck the floor like drumbeats keeping rhythm with her lurching, stuttering heart. A few quick steps, a long pause, several slow, shuffling scuffs, another scatter of quick steps. Doors squeaked on their hinges, and the footfall moved away, then came closer. Moved down the hall. Away. Closer. Opening her eyes, Mara looked down at Nick, who was curled up on her lap, thumb in his mouth, eyes wide. He couldn¡¯t know all that was happening, but he seemed to have grasped the vital bits. He did not make a sound. She turned her attention to Eli. A slant of light bisected his face, casting more shadows than illumination. His eyes were shut, his breathing shallow but steady. Could he sense through the layers of shields? She couldn¡¯t, of course, but then again she wasn¡¯t the architect of these shields. And her sensing wasn¡¯t near as strong as his. Someone¡¯s weight creaked across the floor above them, and a delicate shower of dust rained down on their heads. Mara¡¯s nose tickled. Eli¡¯s eyes flew open. He reached for Nick, a moment too late. Perhaps there was nothing he could have done, anyway. A sneeze, after all, was an automatic reflex, not a feeling or a decision that could be persuaded away. Mara shoved her son¡¯s face roughly into her own chest, but her clothing did little to muffle the soft but deafening ¡°choo.¡± Mara froze. Nick froze, his head tilted back, eyes on his mother. Eli froze, his hand on Nick¡¯s arm. For a long time thereafter, all Mara could hear was her own breath and the hollow gallop of her own heart. She did not hear the officers approaching and caught only snatches of the conversation¨C ¡°--sounded like a¨C¡± Air entered her lungs in a frantic woosh. ¡°--get Royce. He can¨C¡± She breathed out a whirling typhoon. ¡°--the proprietor. I told you¨C¡± She swallowed, and the wet sound drowned out even her heartbeat, but she saw the shadows dance in the light that seeped in from beneath the door as booted feet paced by in one direction and then the other, and then lingered just outside the door. ¡°--right here, I¡¯m¨C¡± Nick¡¯s weight tripled, his body relaxing against her chest, and Eli retracted his arm. She turned, and could swear she heard each joint in her neck pop, each ligament stretch, as she did so, the individual threads of her clothing rubbing together like bows on stringed instruments. When had her small, quiet existence become so unbearably noisy? She watched as Eli shut his eyes, watched his chest rise and fall, and forced her breaths to match his as his persuasion bubbled up and filled the space they occupied. Locked in by Davy¡¯s shadows, the message threatened to drown her, licking greedily at the edges of her own shields. Sounded like a rat. This place is a bust. Cite the proprietor for vermin and move on. The message repeated, over and over, growing in volume until she had to clench her teeth and squeeze her eyes shut against the roar. She couldn¡¯t breathe. She couldn¡¯t think. Davy¡¯s shields, his shadows, were a fragile insulation against the maelstrom. Sounded like a rat. This place is a bust. Cite the proprietor for vermin and move on. Immense pressure made her ears ache like they were pressed full of cotton batting. Nick, deeply asleep, squirmed with discomfort in her hold. Just when she thought it would kill her¨Ccollapse her shields and her mind along with them¨Cthe pressure eased. The chaos of persuasion drained from the room like water from a tub, swirling into a vortex somewhere near the keyhole of the door. Mara drew a shaky breath, and then another, sagging against the wall and working her jaw until her ears popped and her muffled hearing crackled back into clarity. The voices just outside the door were drawn tight with annoyance. ¡°--place is a bust,¡± one said. ¡°Nothing here but drunks and rats. We¡¯re wasting time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± said another, bootsteps shuffling just beyond the thin barrier of the door. ¡°Something was off with the proprietor.¡± ¡°She¡¯s a whore playing make believe that she¡¯s a businessman,¡± the first bit back. ¡°Of course there¡¯s something off about her, but that¡¯s not why we¡¯re here.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re going to just overlook it? Come on, boss, this is the first time we¡¯ve had enough presence in this dump to make a difference. We could at least fine her. Let her know we¡¯ve got our eye on her.¡± ¡°Cite her for the vermin if it¡¯s so important to you, but be quick. We¡¯re moving on.¡± Three sets of feet stalked off, back into the barroom, their voices fading, punctuated by the distant creak and click of the front door. The fourth set lingered for a breath too long outside the door before turning and heading in the direction of Lori and Becca¡¯s apartment. Beside her, Eli shifted. ¡°You stay here,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in ten minutes.¡± She didn¡¯t have to ask where he was going. Where before there had been four Order officers¨Ca full team, stacked with complementary skill sets, now there was only one. One man, easily overpowered, squeezed for information, and sent away with a convenient hole in his memory. ¡°Be careful,¡± she said as he stood and reached for the doorknob. Just to say something, really, to put something of her own into the uncanny silence. Into this series of situations over which she had no control. The latch clicked and blinding light spilled into the hiding space as he pulled the door open. ¡°I will. Ten minutes, I promise.¡± She swallowed hard and nodded, as if her answer actually mattered. As if she wasn¡¯t just a mote of dust, carried forward on the eddies of powers far greater than her own paltry will. ¡°Ten minutes,¡± she said. ¡°Sounds good.¡± (33) Consequences Mara had known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that her fleeing the Capital would have consequences farther reaching than the impact on her own life. She hadn¡¯t looked that knowledge in the eye, because it carried with it a shame and guilt she did not have the strength to bear alongside her grief. Nonetheless, she had known. Eli must have known as well, because there was no surprise in his expression or his tone as he explained what he had learned from the Order officer. Resignation, weariness, and unease, but no surprise. They sat in Lori¡¯s sitting room, mugs of calming tea in hand. Becca was still at work¨CLori explained that when Order patrols came through they kept their distance from each other. Becca even kept separate rooms for the sake of appearances. So for now, aside from Nick and Adeline, it was only the three of them and the bloated, unpleasant truth between them. ¡°This is our fault,¡± Mara said, unwilling to let it go unspoken. Increased Order patrols across the Provinces, raids both targeted and random, a crackdown on petty crimes and sins of honor¨Call part of the new mission set Eli had pried from the mind of the officer. The team they¡¯d encountered was one of forty¨Ctwo full companies¨Cthe largest contingent Cinder had seen in living memory. ¡°We caused this.¡± When they¡¯d run from the Capital, they had proven the Order¡¯s suspicions. Davy was a traitor, and he had accomplices¨Ca robust enough network to secret away his wife and child in a city where the Order¡¯s reach was a vice grip of control and oversight. Who knew how many innocent lives would be turned upside down in the ensuing search for rebels? Surely this increased activity wasn¡¯t contained to Cinder. When she asked as much, Eli shook his head. ¡°He was just an ensign, so he didn¡¯t know the exact distribution. But he had friends in a company headed for Prosco and half his battalion had orders for Bedford. Both those cities already have robust order presence, so the addition is¡­¡± He shook his head again, staring down into his tea. ¡°It¡¯s concerning.¡± ¡°But unsurprising,¡± Mara added for him. His jaw tightened, and when he looked up it was Lori¡¯s eyes he met, not Mara¡¯s. ¡°I am sorry. Truly. I brought this to your door.¡± Mara tried to put herself in Lori¡¯s position. How would she feel, if fresh scrutiny and the threat of violence were levied against her family and her community for the sake of three people? How would she feel if Davy was still alive, still in danger, and the Order began routing out rebels because some other man¡¯s family had decided to run? How did Mara feel in her own position? She hadn¡¯t made the decision to run. Eli had made it for her. He had weighed her life and Nick¡¯s against the rebellion¡¯s mission and all the lives attached to it. He had placed the burden of all those lives on her shoulders without giving her a choice. Fierce gratitude and sullen anger mixed like oil and water within her, separating out into layers of slippery uncertainty. There was no such uncertainty in Lori. She set her tea aside and turned so that she faced Eli on the couch they shared, one leg hitched up onto the cushions, her arm draped across the back. She wore her conviction like armor, her face that of a warrior before battle¨Csure and ready. ¡°Sweetheart,¡± she said. ¡°The beast was never going to sleep forever and we¡¯ve crept around in its shadow for long enough. You woke it, but don¡¯t forget, you also woke us. You gave us tools with which to fight, so have some faith in what you¡¯ve built. If we can¡¯t handle what comes next, what was the point?¡± Eli didn¡¯t answer except to bow his head. Mara found her own posture curling over, humbled by Lori¡¯s strength. Envious, if she was being honest. What was it like, to have such faith in one¡¯s own power, such certainty in one¡¯s convictions? ¡°Still,¡± she said, because Eli had voiced his apologies but she hadn¡¯t. And whether by her choice or not, it was for her and her son that all this was happening. ¡°It bears mentioning that we¡¯re responsible. If there¡¯s anything we can do¨C¡± ¡°Get to the Enclave,¡± Lori said. ¡°Make it worth something.¡± She turned back to Eli. ¡°Make it worth something.¡± The way she repeated the phrase itched in the back of Mara¡¯s mind. Something pointed in the tone that said there was something to hear between the words. The question was what. Unfortunately, as with all of Mara¡¯s questions, it would have to wait. She didn¡¯t need Eli to tell her that their three-day restful sojourn in Cinder would be cut short, the sanctuary it provided run through by the Order¡¯s presence. They spent the remainder of the hour making plans to leave, and the remainder of the day preparing for departure. Fortunately, Eli had managed to gather all the supplies they needed before catching wind of the Order¡¯s presence and rushing back to the Sleepery, so there was no further need to leave the relative safety of the inn. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. To Mara¡¯s consternation, she was given charge of the children for most of the day, while Lori and Eli secreted themselves away in the dining room to have important-sounding conversations in low voices. She couldn¡¯t exactly begrudge them the time¨Csomeone had to tend to Nick and Adeline, and she had little to contribute to a conversation about the rebel underground. Still, she would have liked to be part of the conversation. She would have liked to learn, to have a role in things as clear and true as Lori¡¯s. Eli spoke to the woman as an equal, trusting her with tasks¨Cinform the others, create a withdrawal strategy out of Southport¨Cand asking her advice¨Chow best to rally Cinder¡¯s small rebel contingent, how to bring the outlaw factions into rebel sympathy. And those were just the bits Mara overheard. What other confidence they shared, while she was busy resolving disputes over toys and cleaning up spilled milk, she didn¡¯t know. That evening, Becca returned home in time for supper, followed by rushed but tearful goodbyes. Mara hugged both women, struck by a strange sense of loss. She¡¯d known them less than a day¨Chad no reason to feel this way, as if she was leaving behind dear friends. With the goodbyes rendered, Mara and Eli donned their packs and followed Lori out a back door into an alleyway that stank of mud. It had stopped raining before supper, but thick clouds blotted out the moon and stars, rendering the confines of the alleyway into an abstract construction of blue-black shapes on gray-black backgrounds. Despite the season, a crisp chill had overtaken the air and Mara¡¯s breath clouded around her in a thick gray plume. They waited in tense, expectant silence, until a narrow cart clattered around a corner, drawn by an animal that Mara guessed was a donkey. The cart drew to a halt beside them, and the stench of fresh rubbish wafted over them in a damp, rancid wave. The man driving the wagon wore a hood pulled low over his face, and the only exchange was a shallow nod followed by a jerk of his head toward the wagon behind him. Mara was not looking forward to this part of the plan. Nick had been persuaded into a deep sleep, and Eli held him for her as she clambered up into the wagon in a narrow channel that had been carved out between piles of refuse. Once she was settled, she accepted her son and laid back, fighting not to gag at the stench. She¡¯d tied a handkerchief over her face, doused in oil of sweetleaf, but the sharp aroma did little to dampen the thick odor of moldering rot. Eli settled their bags by her feet and climbed in to stretch out beside her, and Lori flung a tarp over all of them. A few bags were tossed artfully over top, one resting on Mara¡¯s legs, another on her belly, another just above her head. They were light¨Cfilled with paper and old pillows. Nonetheless, their weight and the thick canvas tarp inspired a sense of being trapped that surpassed even what she¡¯d felt in the tunnel. Here, there was nothing to distract her. She didn¡¯t even have to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. She could only struggle to breathe and wait to get caught, wincing as the wagon clattered over the rough ground and jostled the back of her skull against the rough wood. The journey would take thirty minutes, she¡¯d been told. Perhaps an hour if the driver caught wind of an Order patrol and changed his course. They encountered no problems that she could tell, but those thirty minutes did not elapse in the usual straightforward manner. With no outside stimuli to anchor time¡¯s passage, it performed complex, senseless maneuvers that threatened to hold her in the darkness, in the stench, in the uncertainty for an eternity. Each second bent around and stalked the heels of the second before it. The minutes wobbled in slow, drunken circles. And all the while Mara¡¯s head thumped against the floor of the wagon, her lungs filled with the thick miasma of old trash, the air around her humid with her own breath, her dizzy mind flitting from one horrid outcome to the next¨Cwhat if they were caught, what if they suffocated, what if the rubbish collector betrayed them, what if, what if, what if? They passed through the gate. There, time reordered itself and the seconds ticked by, soothed to a steady rhythm by the ordinary exchange between their driver and the gate guards. Pleasantries, mostly. No bribes. And then they were moving again, and time resumed its aimless, spiral meander. When the wagon finally stopped, Mara barely had the presence of mind to worry whether they had arrived at their destination or been caught. The light weight of the decoy bags was removed, and then the tarp, and a rush of cool air washed like water over her sweaty face. She blinked and could just make out the outline of trees overhead¨Cscraggly pine branches overlapping against a backdrop of puffy, soot-gray clouds. Eli sat up beside her and shifted to the end of the wagon, holding out his arms for Nick as she too sat up. She handed her son over and shuffled awkwardly out of the wagon, shrugged into her bag, and took Nick back. Eli had drawn their driver to the side, shaking his hand and clapping him on the shoulder. They exchanged a few whispered words, and a small coin purse that the driver tried unsuccessfully to reject. Then the driver clambered back into the wagon and drove away. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Eli whispered, gesturing toward the trees. Mara shifted Nick higher in her arms and wondered how her life had come to this. How she had come to this¨Creeking of trash, cold, dizzy, widowed. And strangest of all, relieved. Relieved to be back on her feet, with the dependable weight of her pack on her shoulders and a predictable path before her. Relieved to know what tonight would bring¨Cwalking, sweat, quiet breaks for food and the bliss of crisp water on her parched tongue. She followed Eli into the trees, her feet finding easy purchase despite the uneven ground, her lungs pulling greedily at the clean, fresh air. As the woods closed in around them and the comfort of routine overtook her, she thought of Lori¡¯s words¨CMake it worth something. She didn¡¯t know how. She had no tools with which to fight, no platform upon which to build a worthwhile future even for her son, let alone for an entire rebellion. But that didn¡¯t mean she couldn¡¯t learn. (34) The Chosen Path ¡°What can you tell me about the rebellion?¡± Eli looked back over his shoulder, glancing up at Mara, then down at Nick who toddled along between them. They¡¯d been walking all night, the limp gray dawn only just having risen, and the pale light made his hair shine silver as he turned back around. ¡°What do you want to know?¡± Mara chewed on her lip for a moment. That would have been a good question to contemplate during the long dark hours of the night. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s going to fail?¡± His stride didn¡¯t falter, but she could tell by the time it took him to answer that the bluntness of the question had caught him off guard. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not a Keeper.¡± ¡°You¡¯re also not just some bodyguard. Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t pieced that together. You know things. You definitely know more than me. So what do you think? Is it doomed?¡± They¡¯d reached the bottom of a steep draw, and he turned to bridge the creek that ran through it, one foot on either side. He hoisted Nick easily across the burbling water, then offered her a hand which she accepted. Her pride was not worth wet boots. When they were halfway up the far side of the draw and he still hadn¡¯t answered, Mara decided to rephrase her question. ¡°I guess what I¡¯m really asking is if we ruined things by running.¡± He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sure some will think so.¡± ¡°Do you think so?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Why?¡± The conversation petered out again as the hill grew perilously steep and they both turned their efforts toward the climb, and to making sure Nick didn¡¯t lose his purchase and fall. Though in truth he was steadier than she was. When they reached the ridgeline, Eli slowed down, hoisting Nick onto his shoulders. ¡°All I can give you is my opinion.¡± ¡°Good, because that¡¯s what I¡¯m asking for.¡± It took so long for him to continue, Mara wondered if he was searching for the words to answer or searching for the words to tell her not to ask. ¡°The rebellion has been developing for generations. The Enclave itself has been around for so long it¡¯s no longer a secret outpost so much as a hidden city.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Mara said, mostly to demonstrate that she was following and to encourage him to keep going. ¡°It¡¯s always been an underground movement, which made sense at the outset. The Order¡¯s armed power is too great to best in an outright war, and their persuasive campaigns have the vast majority of the citizenry under tight control. Their only real weakness is their reliance on persuasion to keep their own ranks in line¨Cit cripples their ability to wield shadow-casters in a defensive capacity. The rebellion has always seized on that weakness, taking advantage the only way it can¨Cby building a network of support in its power structure.¡± Nothing Mara didn¡¯t know. What she didn¡¯t know was where he was going with it. ¡°But we¡¯ve betrayed that effort. That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying. The Order is an underground movement and we brought it into the light.¡± ¡°Yes, we have. And there will be¨Calready are¨Cconsequences. But that doesn¡¯t mean the rebellion is doomed.¡± ¡°How can you say that? We ruined the main effort.¡± ¡°A main effort that has been in operation for over a century. Our parents¡¯ parents swore oaths to that objective, and what has it accomplished? Successive generations of leadership, tucked away in the safety of the Enclave while the people they claim to serve continue to suffer. Successive ranks of rebels seeding the Order with compatriots who have no mission and may live entire lives and die of old age waiting to receive one. Families torn apart¨C¡± He broke off, breathing deeply through his nose, and reached up to hold onto Nick¡¯s ankles as if to remind himself that young ears were listening. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. When he went on, his voice had lost its heat. ¡°The rebellion reached a point of stasis decades ago. We shattered that stasis when we ran, but I don¡¯t think we doomed it to failure. Failure would have been to carry on forever, building subsequent generations of hidden fighters with no war to wage. Elise and Rorick are brilliant strategists. They know something needs to change, but they¡¯ve been hesitant to escalate the conflict. They had too much to lose.¡± Mara glanced at Nick, but of course he wasn¡¯t following the conversation. He¡¯d caught sight of a hawk circling overhead and had his neck craned back to watch it, one hand grasping Eli¡¯s ear for balance. ¡°And now?¡± she asked, though she suspected she knew the answer. ¡°Now they have nothing to lose except their cause. His cause. They won¡¯t let it come to nothing.¡± He worded it carefully in deference to Nick¡¯s presence, but she understood him well enough to see the hidden implication¨Cthat he thought Davy¡¯s death and all the pain and suffering that resulted from their running were ultimately a good thing. Something that needed to happen. Realization struck her like fist to the temple. ¡°Is that why you rescued us?¡± This, too, had been a persistent question squirming around in the crowded places of her mind¨Cwhy had he run back to the Capital, risking his life and further exposing the rebellion¡¯s reach just for her and for Nick. Mere loyalty to a friend didn¡¯t explain that. But now she understood. He¡¯d seen an opportunity¨Cto force Davy¡¯s parents¡¯ hand by outing the rebellion at a time when they¡¯d be vulnerable to do what he thought was best: bring the fight out into the open. She stopped walking, heart thudding. ¡°Did you want this to happen?¡± He stopped as well and turned around, hands still looped around Nick¡¯s ankles. Her son had turned his attention toward her as well, and both sets of eyes bored into her. ¡°No,¡± Eli said. She fought to keep calm. ¡°It sounds like maybe you did.¡± He grimaced and shifted Nick¡¯s weight before lifting him down and giving him a gentle push, pointing toward a tree some yards away. ¡°Nick, buddy, I think we might fish during lunch. Can you flip that rock and see if you can find us some worms?¡± Nick scampered off to see to his task, and Eli stepped closer to Mara, lowering his volume to a harsh whisper. ¡°I came for you because Davy wanted me to. He asked it of me, I agreed, and I would sooner die than betray his trust. But you can disabuse yourself of the notion that I had any desire for any of this to happen.¡± As he spoke a burning heat radiated from the words, hotter with each syllable, and shadows of uncharacteristic fury danced around him. ¡°I admit, I¡¯ve wanted the rebellion¡¯s strategy to evolve for some time, but if I was blessed with any agency, this is not the path I would have taken to see it happen.¡± This was, she realized, the closest she had ever seen Eli come to heated anger. She¡¯d seen him fight, but his approach to combat was distinctly brisk. She¡¯d seen him irritated, but his patience tended to run too deep to see what lay beneath. But right now she caught a glimpse of embers in his eyes that would scorch if she tried to touch them. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, holding up her hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He blinked and swallowed, the shadows falling away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You were only asking a question.¡± ¡°A rude question.¡± ¡°A fair one.¡± They stood for a few breaths, studying each other, and Mara wondered if he searched in her for the same thing she sought in him¨Csome sign that the brief upheaval in their peaceful dynamic had truly passed. Or would there be aftershocks? Would subsequent moments of friction rise up and rub away at the veneer of polite regard they¡¯d painted between them? All she knew for sure was that this particular ripple had passed. In silent agreement, Eli left to check on Nick¡¯s progress with the worms and Mara went to a nearby boulder to hitch her pack atop it, taking some of the weight off her shoulders. She drank a few sips from her flask and marinated in what she¡¯d learned in the short conversation, the rusty gears of her mind turning over. Her most immediate concern was how it would affect Nick. What had before seemed like a wise enough choice¨Ctaking her son to the place where his family name could best protect him¨Cnow seemed rash and irresponsible. When Eli came back, Nick once more on his shoulders, she opened her mouth to ask him if it was too late to change her mind. Could they still turn south and sail the Stormway and find a new, less perilous life for her son in Ralin? They¡¯d only made one night¡¯s progress. Surely the window hadn¡¯t closed. But when she tried to voice the question, she thought of Lori. The warrior who had so calmly absorbed their guilt and fear and reflected it back as hope. She did not ask, and when Eli pointed them North, she fell into step behind him. (35) Rhythm Over the weeks that followed, they fell into a routine that could nearly be described as pleasant. Granted, Ashfall wasn¡¯t near so welcoming as Loftland. Every day it proved itself a greater nuisance than the day before, from sparse foraging to perilous screes to driving, icy rainstorms. The nights were a chorus of soft rustling and distant, snapping twigs, the mornings gray and dull, the evenings morose red. Mara went to sleep aching, woke up stiff, and went through the day with a constant pang of hunger gnawing at her gut. There were the dreams, of course. Since Cinder, there were no more flashes of jealousy or anger, and no mention of the flash that had occurred. There was only Davy and a soft bed. A low voice and a steady heartbeat. Playful banter, if she was in the mood. Idle dreaming of the life they had both yearned for but never bothered to plan. A small cottage and their own chickens. A dog for Nick and a quiet future for them. Even beyond the peace of the dreams, though, life wasn¡¯t so bad. They took a steady pace, stopping frequently to drink water and to eat, and for Eli to push a little healing magic at them if they needed it. For Mara, the trek was a steady discomfort but never a torment. For Nick, it was a grand adventure. She had never seen her son glow with such constant, unfettered joy, set alight by the constant cascade of new vistas, new rocks to turn over, new tricks of field craft, new stories, new hills to scramble up and slide down. Even Eli seemed to descend into something resembling contentment, though she could only see it in the evenings, when they sat beside the fire. And only if she let the silence linger. On the easier days, they resumed their lessons in magic. They reviewed the basic theory of persuasion¨Cnamely its reliance on the receiving party¡¯s own backlog of memory and emotional range. Basically, Eli explained, the more there to support the user¡¯s agenda, the easier the push. With that in mind, they focused first on the basics¨Ccapturing rogue emotion. It wasn¡¯t hard to find opportunity for practice, as Mara¡¯s inner sanctum crawled with rogue emotions, even on her calmest days. Fear, grief, anger. He taught her how to catch them before they ran free, how to follow the threads of each to their source and clip them off with her intent. Once she¡¯d grasped that, he taught how to sense persuasion. She thought that part would be easier, since his persuasion was so familiar, but it had no sense-able footprint when she was on the receiving end. To practice, he would hold a rock in one hand and nothing in the other. Then he would close his fists and ask which hand held the rock. On some rounds, he would send a push of persuasion, telling her she¡¯d seen it in the wrong hand. On some rounds, he didn¡¯t. Her job was to discern when his persuasion and her memory were conspiring against her. She was very bad at the game. It took her a week and a half to get the hang of it. A week and a half before she learned to turn her sensing inward to the soft, vulnerable space where her ribcage separated. In the presence of persuasion, she finally realized, that space always felt hollow. When she started winning the rock game, they finally put the two skills together. With her permission, Eli sent small, innocuous orders at her¨Cstand up, stop walking, sit down, pick that up, put it down¨Cthroughout the day, packaged with escalating quantities of persuasion. She had no warning when the orders would come, and her task was to pick up on her body¡¯s warning and corral the persuasive push the same way she did her own emotions. For three days straight, she failed even to notice the orders until she¡¯d already carried them out. But on the fourth day of practice, she felt it and from there it only took her two more days to successfully resist the commands. Aside from the lessons, she and Eli spoke to Nick more than they spoke to each other, taking turns wrangling and entertaining him. But sometimes, when Nick was napping or distracted, she asked him questions. Questions about the Enclave¨Cwould there be a school for Nick? Would there be somewhere for her to work? Yes and yes. Questions about him¨Cwas he excited to return home? What would he do when they arrived? Not particularly, and he didn¡¯t know. Whatever was asked of him. It was in the comfortable tedium of Ashfall that Mara began to develop a nascent curiosity about her guide that was driven not by mistrust and fear but by amusement and affection. Just an itch, really, a nagging little pressure to fill in the empty nooks and crannies in her knowledge of him. ¡°What gods do you worship?¡± she asked one day, pulling the question from the cool, damp air. ¡°Hm?¡± He had his back to her, Nick draped giggling over his shoulders as they picked their way through a thicket¨Cwhite vines with sharp black thorns and purple leaves. As a great believer in the intrinsic value of all life, it pained Mara that all she could ever see when she saw these brambles¨CLuxanna, unless she was mistaken¨Cwas that they were absolutely hideous. ¡°The gods,¡± she repeated. ¡°Which ones do you worship? ¡°You know it¡¯s illegal to ask me that.¡± ¡°Under Order law,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Which hardly applies to us, given the circumstances.¡± Free of the thicket, he swung Nick off his shoulder and set him on the ground, keeping hold of the boy¡¯s hand as he regained his balance. ¡°The old gods, I suppose.¡± Mara nodded. She had thought as much. Half the stories he told Nick were tales of the old gods, sometimes adapted for young years but recognizable nonetheless. Gwyneth and the Hawk, only it ended with the hawk giving his mistress a stern talking to instead of pecking out her eyes. Ragadoth¡¯s Tower, where everyone miraculously evacuated the building before it fell and the ruinstar grew, not from the corpses buried in the rubble but from the remains of Ragadoth¡¯s abundant larder. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°The old gods abandoned us,¡± she teased. ¡°Or hadn¡¯t you heard?¡± They¡¯d reached a new patch of luxanna, crawling low and stealthy across the forest floor. Eli bent and snagged Nick by the back of his coat, eliciting a squealing giggle, and draped him once more over his shoulders. ¡°At least I¡¯m not a death worshiper.¡± ¡°Are you implying I am?¡± She balked with indignation, although the assessment was accurate. Perhaps because the assessment was accurate. ¡°What would give you that notion?¡± One hand occupied with Nick, he waved the other at the vines through which they tiptoed, carefully not to snag their clothing on the thorns. ¡°Your plant obsession, for one. All plant people worship the Depths.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± It very much was. ¡°Maybe you don¡¯t all start out that way, but once you get to fretting over the dirt, it¡¯s a steep slide into Depths worship. And I¡¯ve never met someone who frets so much over dirt as you do.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t fret over dirt.¡± She very much did. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you couldn¡¯t tell me right now what plants would grow best in the soil we¡¯re walking on?¡± ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t go so far as to call this soil,¡± she said, scuffing her boot through the sooty powder that covered the ground. There¡¯d clearly been a wildfire here recently. The trees were scorched, the groundcover all but nonexistent. ¡°It¡¯s still mostly ash. It¡¯s no wonder we keep running into these brambles. Hardy vines and berry plants are always the first to repopulate after a wildfire.¡± ¡°Mmhm,¡± he hummed, swinging Nick back down. ¡°As I was saying¡­¡± She scowled at his back. ¡°Alright, you can have that point. But just so you know, I had you pegged for a pagan weeks ago, so you¡¯re just as transparent as I am.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± ¡°Mmhm,¡± she mimicked. ¡°Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t put the pieces together. That story you told, when we first entered Loftland? About the deer?¡± ¡°What about it?¡± ¡°What kind of deer was it?¡± He didn¡¯t answer, which was answer enough. ¡°It was a Rho deer,¡± she answered for him. ¡°A wounded Rho deer. You could have killed it, stashed the body, come back later. The antlers alone would have set you up like a king. And instead you saved it? Nobody would have done that who didn¡¯t worship the old gods.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t worship the old gods,¡± he said tightly. ¡°You respect them.¡± ¡°I¡¯m right though?¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you always?¡± And so it went, day after day. They walked, they wrangled Nick, they talked, they trained. The days clipped themselves together into weeks, and before long the terrain began to change once more. Steep mountains tumbled down into rolling hills, the air growing thick and warm. The trees shrank, the soil softening beneath their boots. Mara wasn¡¯t sure the exact day that she caught the first glimpse of the Great Ribbon, a tiny wedge of silver-blue glistening at the sharp divot where two distant hills met. Weeks had passed since leaving Cinder, but she¡¯d stopped keeping track of the days. She pointed out the faraway glimmer, and Eli confirmed it. ¡°We¡¯ll reach the bank early tomorrow,¡± he said, dropping back to walk beside her. ¡°Make a camp and get some rest. We¡¯ll cross after dusk.¡± He hadn¡¯t shared that aspect of the plan with her yet, perhaps because he knew that it would prevent her from sleeping once she heard it. She¡¯d been dreading the Ribbon, in a background simmering sort of way, all along. She found water frightening, in no small part because she didn¡¯t know how to swim. The thought of crossing during the day, when she could see, had frightened her. Crossing at night, when the water was inky and unknowable? She tried to keep her fear to herself, and failed miserably. That night, after Nick had gone down, she sat cross-legged by the dimly glowing darknight fire, prodding at the dirt beside it with a stick and thinking about drowning. Eli sat beside her. ¡°Are you nervous about the river crossing?¡± he asked without preamble, leaning back on his hands. ¡°Of course I am.¡± Forcing a deep, calming breath, she shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to swim. I¡¯ll get us all drowned.¡± ¡°No, you won¡¯t. I have a plan.¡± ¡°Does your plan involve a boat? ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± he said, a smile in his voice. ¡°But it also doesn¡¯t involve anybody drowning.¡± ¡°Not even on accident?¡± ¡°No. The worst case scenario for my current plan is that we get swept downstream to the rapids and bashed to death against the rocks, in which case we won¡¯t have the chance to drown.¡± A laughed burst out of her. ¡°Oh, good. What a relief.¡± ¡°I knew you¡¯d think so.¡± Mara waited, but he didn¡¯t say anything more. She poked him in the leg with her stick. ¡°I¡¯m ready to be comforted now. No jokes this time.¡± He reached out and snagged the stick from her hand, using it to stir things about in the fire until the glow emitting from the pit flared. ¡°I won¡¯t let you or Nick drown. I also won¡¯t let you get bashed to death against the rocks, or picked up by an Order patrol, or freeze to death, or any other calamity. It¡¯s going to be unpleasant and cold and probably frightening. But I¡¯m confident I can see you safely across.¡± She studied his face in the low, yellow glow of the darknight fire. He looked sincere. Almost painfully so, his mouth bracketed by little grooves of tension. ¡°No calamities?¡± ¡°None I can¡¯t see you through.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± She still wasn¡¯t going to sleep tonight, but she did feel a minute lightening of the tension in her neck. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re alright for your shift?¡± Mara nodded. If it was an option, she¡¯d let him sleep through his own since she wouldn¡¯t be able to rest anyway. But letting him sleep wasn¡¯t in her power, since she never had to wake him. He always stirred to life just when her watch was ending, like some clock had buzzed in alarm inside his head. He bedded down as he always did, stretched out alongside the fire, close enough that she could hear him breathe. And when, three hours later, he roused from sleep with his usual uncanny accuracy and relieved her, she slept as well. Soundly. And she dreamed of Davy, telling her not to give up. (36) Now They arrived at the banks of the Great Ribbon, as Eli had predicted, late the next morning. The hills fell away swiftly to a broad, flat stretch of land on the near side of the river. Across the water, steep cliffs cast a shadow that reached the near bank even with the sun so high overhead. Mara had seen the river before, of course, but out west it was just a tumble of white-blue rapids, cutting a path through green farmland. Here, it was swollen and winding, still a powdery white-blue and swift moving, but calmer. In the midday sun, it resembled the ribbon it was named for, snaking through the broad white-pebbled shores along its banks. Eli held them back in the hills to make camp until nightfall, as there would be no way to stealthily cross that great flat expanse during the day. Mara couldn¡¯t sleep, in part because of the bright sunshine, in part because of the looming task ahead of her. Nick napped contentedly, head on her lap, while she sat and stared at the glints of silver through the trees. Eli had left as soon as they were settled, taking only the bow. When she asked if he intended to hunt, the answer was a single shake of his head, eyes flicking to Nick, and a low, ¡°Not for food.¡± He didn¡¯t return until the sun cast long, red-lined shadows and painted the river crimson. His posture was tight, expression grim. It lightened when Nick ran up to hug him¨Ca habit he¡¯d formed near the eastern boundary of Loftland¨Cand show off the worms he¡¯d dug up beneath a nearby tree. As soon as Nick wandered back off to keep digging, though, he tightened back up. ¡°More Order patrols than I expected,¡± he told her before she could ask. ¡°Can we still cross?¡± She knew she oughtn¡¯t hope for ¡®no,¡¯ but she wouldn¡¯t mind taking the long way if it meant taking a bridge or a boat instead of whatever cold, frightening method he had in mind. He sat beside her, stretching his legs out with a sigh as he dug through his pack for a water flask. She didn¡¯t care for the knowing glance he shot her over the top of the flask. ¡°Yes, Mara.¡± ¡°Oh. Good. So¡­¡± she rubbed her sweaty hands down her thighs. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll wait until dark. Move down to the water. There¡¯s driftwood all up and down the banks. We¡¯ll find one decent-sized. Lash the packs to it. With your permission, I¡¯ll have Nick sleep. You¡¯ll hang on to him and the driftwood. I¡¯ll tow you across.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll tow us across,¡± she repeated, disbelief souring her voice. He frowned at her. ¡°I¡¯m a strong swimmer.¡± Mara squeezed the bridge of her nose and tried not to scream. He wasn¡¯t doing anything wrong. He was doing everything right. He was keeping her and Nick safe, taking them where they needed to be. But she was just so tired of being so useless. His entire plan for the river crossing was for her to flop about behind a piece of driftwood while he towed her across! ¡°Is there¡­¡± She took a deep, steadying breath. ¡°Is there anything I can do? To help? I can¡¯t swim, but I could¡­ I could¡­¡± She couldn¡¯t do a Depthsbound thing. ¡°You¡¯ll be hanging on to Nick. It¡¯s too dangerous to tie him. And you¡¯ll be holding on, yourself. And you¡¯ll be kicking.¡± ¡°Kicking?¡± ¡°Yes, kicking. Helping to propel us forward and keep yourself warm.¡± ¡°Is the water cold?¡± She was watching his face and caught the subtle wince.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Very.¡± ¡°What about Nick?¡± ¡°I can use magic to keep him warm. You too, if the exertion isn¡¯t enough.¡± She narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°And that won¡¯t be too much? You¡¯ll still be able to swim?¡± He tsked, dropping his head back against tree with a long-suffering sigh. ¡°Your lack of faith is getting hurtful.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not the one about to be towed across the river like a sack of flour.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t transport a sack of flour this way. What use is wet flour?¡± ¡°Oh, good. So I¡¯m heartier than a sack of flour.¡± ¡°With respect to waterproofing, anyway.¡± ¡°Oh, ha,¡± she drawled, tossing a spiny pinecone at him without much velocity. With a bracing breath, she pulled her pack toward her and rummaged through what few supplies they had left. ¡°You hungry?¡± They ate a small, cold meal while the sun faded, which Mara barely tasted. When Nick¡¯s eyes grew sleepy, she tucked him in with a shower of extra hugs and kisses, trying not to let her fear show in her eyes or come through in her voice. Once Nick had fallen asleep naturally, she let Eli put some magical weight behind her son¡¯s slumber and they set about packing up their hasty camp. They waterproofed their bags as best they could, transferring everything they didn¡¯t want to get wet from the outer pockets to the insulated interior, protected by oiled canvas, and Eli explained that the bags would float on their own if they did the job properly. He kept a spare waterproofed sack free for their boots and outerwear, the implication being that she would have to remove her boots and outerwear, which would leave her in her underwear. She got so far as to open her mouth to ask if that was really necessary before common sense caught up with her. For one, she didn¡¯t have to know how to swim to know that waterlogged clothing would make it harder. She¡¯d done enough laundry to appreciate the weight of wet cloth. For another, if Eli had lascivious intentions towards her, she¡¯d have sensed them long before now, and she hadn¡¯t. For yet another, even if he did want to see her in her underthings, he¡¯d picked a terrible night to trick her into it. There was no moon, and by the time they finished preparing their things, she couldn¡¯t see her hand in front of her face. Without fanfare, they set off into the darkness, picking their way slowly through the trees. Eli went first, Nick draped over his shoulders, and Mara followed behind him, holding onto his pack so as not to lose him in the dark. He led her around the trees, but her feet kept finding holes and branches to stumble over, and she felt his body lurch a time or two as he stumbled as well. Then they broke out of the trees and Mara gave up on watching her footing and simply hung her head back on her neck to marvel at the stars. She¡¯d never seen such a sky. All her life, there had been either buildings or trees to obstruct the view. She¡¯d never seen the scattered stars sprawl from one horizon to the other, forming a perfect, cloudless dome. She felt like a toy, displayed before eyes that saw more than her own. Were the stars laughing as they watched her little drama play out? Did they scoff to see her her traipse about the earth in her soft, perishable body, all worked up about the outcome of her life as if it had any bearing on the way the world turned? Did it bore them, watching her mourn her husband, her precious marriage that had begun and ended in the blink of a celestial eye? Rocky earth gave way to stones beneath her feet, and she lowered her attention back to her body¨Ca body tense and shivering with dread and anticipated cold. The midsummer air was balmy, but the water ahead was an undulating satiny black amidst the shifting velvet darkness all around. To the depths with the stars and their grandiosity. All she could think was that the water looked frigid. They stopped near enough to the bank that Mara could hear not just the steady hum of the river but the happy little laps and splashes of wavelets against the rocky shore. Eli gave her Nick, and she fumbled with his floppy body, her balance askew in the darkness. ¡°Stay here,¡± Eli whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll be back.¡± She waited, standing awkwardly with her feet braced against the uneven rocks, hugging Nick¡¯s warm body to her and yearning more for Davy than she had since she first learned of his death. The dreams, mysterious as they were, had held her grief at bay. It was hard to feel his loss when she passed every night in the warmth of his embrace with his voice in her ears and the scent of him all around. It was hard to feel his loss even during the day, occupied as she was with survival. But right now, she missed him to the core of her being. She was frightened. She was cold. She was alone beneath a vast and condescending sky. She wanted his arms around her now, shielding her and Nick both. She wanted his voice in her ear now, murmuring reassurances and promises to keep her safe. She wanted him now, on the banks of the frigid river. Not later, when she slept. Now. (37) The Great Ribbon Eli didn¡¯t seem to notice the tears on her face when he returned, or perhaps he just didn¡¯t have time to address them. Either way, he said nothing as he set a log down at the edge of the water that was as big around as Mara and half as long, its edges poorly defined against the background of the water. They worked mostly in silence, having discussed the plan while they ate. Mara set Nick carefully on the rocks and undressed herself and her son to their underclothes, cramming their boots and clothing into the spare bag while Eli lashed their packs to the driftwood. Then she simply stood, toes curling around sun-warmed river rocks, Nick once more in her arms. At Eli¡¯s behest, she¡¯d crisscrossed a short length of rope around her son¡¯s torso like a harness, so she¡¯d have something easy to grasp once they were in the water, and tied that in turn to her own waist in case the worst happened and she lost her grip on him completely. The rough hemp scratched at her own skin through the thin fabric of her soft linen undershirt, reminding her of what was at stake. Eli pushed the log into the water where it bobbed gently in the wavelets, held in place by a length of rope that Eli had looped around his own waist. Then he came to her and checked the knots securing her to Nick. ¡°Ready?¡± he whispered. ¡°No.¡± His teeth caught starlight as he smiled, and then he took her by the elbow, helping her balance as she stumbled and minced her way into the water. Warning signals shot up from her feet, her toes aching with cold before the signals even reached her brain. It is cold! They shrieked. Dank and festering depths, it is cold! Turn back! Turn back! It is cold! Shuddering, she ignored the shrieking of her nerves and obeyed the gentle but insistent press of Eli¡¯s hand on her elbow, urging her forward. The water lapped at her ankles, her shins, her knees. She clenched her jaw. ¡°An energy meditation might help,¡± Eli whispered to her, and she wondered if he was just trying to get her to breathe. Regardless, her lungs refused to inflate in the smooth motion needed for a proper meditation, instead jerking the air in and out of her in spasmodic gasps. He drew them to a halt, his hands a burning heat on her shoulders. Warmth spread from his touch down into her chest, cascading through her belly and down her legs. The sensation was almost ecstatic, utterly unlike anything she¡¯d felt before¨Cto be enveloped by cold and consumed by heat. Her muscles unclenched, but she still couldn¡¯t draw a full breath. ¡°Mara.¡± His hands tightened. ¡°I promise to keep you safe, but you cannot panic. If you panic, you¡¯ll drown us both. I¡¯ll have to use persuasion. Do you understand?¡± She jerked her head in a nod, realized he probably couldn¡¯t see her, and managed a strangled, ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Take a breath for me. It¡¯s okay if it¡¯s shallow.¡± She sucked in a thimble full of air. ¡°Good. Now another one, and breathe out fully. Use your belly.¡± She pulled in another shaky breath and pushed the air out through pursed lips, using the muscles in her abdomen and imagining the deeper pockets of her lungs emptying out. She didn¡¯t need his prompting to repeat the cycle again, and again. And with control of her breath came control of the wild panic lighting up her mind. Closing her eyes, she reached out and snatched the strobing thoughts, stuffing them down through her body, through the soles of her feet and into the rocks. She opened her eyes. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m okay now.¡± His hands fell away from her shoulders and he took her elbow once more, leading her deeper into the water. It reached her thighs, and it must have lapped at Nick¡¯s feet because he tensed with a squirming whimper before going limp once more, lulled by Eli¡¯s magic. Then it reached her belly, and her muscles clenched, this time with cold rather than panic. She forced herself to breathe through the onslaught. Eli¡¯s hand moved from her elbow to her wrist. He waited for her to shift Nick¡¯s wait fully into her left arm before guiding her hand to a loop of rope he¡¯d tied like a handle in the middle of the log. ¡°Once it gets deeper, try to keep your elbow over the log,¡± he reminded her. ¡°With our bags lashed on, it shouldn¡¯t want to roll, but if it does, don¡¯t panic. Let yourself go under, keep hold of the rope, pull yourself up, and roll onto your back.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± she said through chattering teeth. ¡°Good. The ground will drop away suddenly. I¡¯ll be right here. I won¡¯t let anything happen to you, but keep your hand on that rope from here on.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Okay.¡± She nodded, for no reason. He couldn¡¯t see her. She couldn¡¯t see him¨Cjust a warm shadow against a background of stars. Already the current had grown to an insistent push against her body, buffeting her so that she drifted sideways with each step forward. She tried not to let it worry her. If he didn¡¯t think they could make it to the far side before the current carried them into danger, they¡¯d be starting the crossing farther upstream. She had faith in his assessment. Between one thought and the next, the ground beneath her disappeared, leaving her floating in the cold, submerged up to her chest. With a gasp, she yanked Nick against her and tightened her grip on the rope, rough wood scraping the underside of her arm as levered herself farther up out of the water. She pointed her toes, reaching instinctually for the ground, but found only cold darkness to stand on. Eli was still beside her, his shoulder butting against hers as the current tossed them gently about. ¡°Once we start moving, start kicking. You¡¯ll have a sense of which direction we¡¯re going, and where the current is. Kick against the current or kick with me. Whichever is easier. You got Nick?¡± ¡°I got him,¡± she sputtered, teeth hammering against each other so hard she feared they¡¯d crack. ¡°Worst part¡¯s over,¡± he said, and his hand pressed to the back of hers, warmth rushing through her veins. Then his touch disappeared, and she felt Nick¡¯s body heat up against hers as he received the same treatment. ¡°I¡¯ll check on you every few minutes. Just keep kicking. Keep breathing. If the log rolls¨C¡± ¡°Don¡¯t panic. Roll onto my back,¡± she finished for him. ¡°I¡¯m okay. Go.¡± Without another word he simply disappeared beneath the water, and for a terrified moment she thought he¡¯d been snatched by some hidden whirlpool and was drowning somewhere beneath her feet. But then she felt the log shift, tugged against the gentle but relentless sweep of the current. She was sitting too low in the water to see much beyond the log beside her face and the undulating waves of darkness around her, but she could tell they were moving in the right direction by the way the water gathered around her body, little rumbles and bubbles against her side as the downstream flow broke against her, her body moving across the current rather than with it. With nothing else to do, she began to kick. It took a moment to find the right rhythm. If she kicked too hard, the motion lifted her body up to parallel with the surface, which made it harder to keep Nick¡¯s lolling head out of the water. If she kicked too feebly, the current snatched at her legs and tried to whip them around and under the log. Even when she found a good, steady rhythm, it still wasn¡¯t enough to keep her warm. At first the chill was merely uncomfortable, the worst pain in her fingers and toes. But as time went on, the cold seeped into her bones, calcified her muscles, seized her lungs, muddied her sense of up and down. The worst, though, was the warmth of Nick¡¯s body washing away with the current, his slow breaths coming ever farther apart. ¡°Doing okay?¡± She blinked. Eli¡¯s sudden appearance would have startled her if her brain hadn¡¯t been half frozen. His head just popped up out of the water beside her, his hand on her elbow. Heat. Blessed heat, crawling slower up her limbs than it had before. She wondered, distantly, if the change was a reflection of his own fatigue or a precaution. She knew from experience not to warm people up too fast when they were badly chilled. His touch left, and Nick warmed against her. ¡°Okay?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°What do you do if the log rolls?¡± She pried the words loose from the ice. ¡°Let myself go under. Roll onto my back. Don¡¯t panic.¡± ¡°And hang onto the rope. You¡¯re doing great, Mara. Keep kicking.¡± He disappeared again before she could respond. Eli had estimated that it would take them less than thirty minutes to make the crossing, but it felt like at least an hour just between each check in. The cold slowed down not only the blood in her veins but the passage of time itself. Each kick was a lifetime of effort, each beat of her heart a second stretching into a year. She fought to keep her eyes open, fought to keep her mind on her objectives: hold the rope, keep Nick¡¯s head above the water, kick. Hold the rope, keep Nick¡¯s head above the water, kick. All else faded. Even Eli¡¯s check-ins drifted into background noise. The heat he brought was welcome, but no longer touched the deepest parts of the cold. Her soul itself was webbed in icy tendrils, the chambers of her heart pumping slush into her veins, the marrow of her bones frozen through. ¡°Mara.¡± The voice came from far away, but she forced her head toward it. Her neck was stiff. A dark shape that must be Eli hovered close enough she could feel the heat of his breath. She wanted to hold her numb hands to it like a fire. Then he grasped her hand, and heat trickled up her arms, seeping slowly into her chest. ¡°Mara,¡± he said again, more urgently, and she nodded, laboring to hike Nick higher on her shoulder. ¡°Hm?¡± ¡°There¡¯s an Order patrol coming toward us from downstream. We need to get lower in the water.¡± No. Please, no. But she complied when he helped to pry her fingers loose from the handle. Her hand clenched reflexively around nothing as her body plunged deeper into the frigid dark. She gasped, sputtering, flailing as she fought to keep Nick up, to pull herself up. What was it he¡¯d told her to do? What was it¡ª¡± Warmth banded around her, and she realized only distantly that it was Eli¡¯s arm, pressing her hard against his body. The world spun, and she was blinking at the stars, Nick resting limply against her chest. ¡°Stay quiet.¡± Eli¡¯s breath burned the frostbitten skin of her ear, and she felt the words rumble in his chest against her back. Heat suffused her everywhere they touched, and she didn¡¯t know whether it was his magic or just him. Either way, it calmed her, warmed her enough that she was finally able to register what was happening as light swept across the surface of the water at their feet--a pure white beam of it, turning the waves silver. Her cold, stiff heart seized, and Eli¡¯s arm tightened around her. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Just a routine patrol. Close your eyes and keep your breath shallow.¡± She obeyed instantaneously. Not his magic, she knew. She knew, now, how that felt. No, this was something much more insidious. More dangerous. Trust. (38) Cold Treachery Mara closed her eyes, and tried not to flinch. Tried to be calm¨Ca peaceful piece of floating debris in the river¨Cas the light flashed against her eyelids. She didn¡¯t dare breathe, lest the cloud of her breath give them away. She didn¡¯t dare think of Nick, who was so helpless and innocent, caught between the treacherous cold of the river and cold treachery of the Order. She turned her focus to the only thing that did not frighten or hurt her¨Cthe warmth. Warmth against her back. Warmth, drawn tight across her belly. Warmth, brushing against her legs amidst the pitch black cold below. Warmth in the heartbeat, thumping against her back. In the shallow puffs of air against her neck. Was it his magic, or was it just him? She still didn¡¯t know. ¡°You can open your eyes.¡± She blinked them open and found the distant beam, farther upstream now. ¡°Will they be back?¡± she slurred, her lips numb. ¡°Maybe, but not for a while. Are you alright to hold yourself up?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll stay close. Give it a try. You can kick good and hard, now that you¡¯re on your back. Keep your knees straight and kick from your hips.¡± He guided her hand to the rope attached to the log, and then his weight, his warmth, dropped away from beneath her. She immediately began to kick, hard as he¡¯d advised. Eli helped her adjust her grip so that she could hold herself and Nick out of the water, asked one more time if she was alright, and then disappeared. Seconds later, she felt the tug as they started moving once more against the current. She marked time by the occasional puff of Nick¡¯s exhalations against her cheek, by the rhythm of her own kicking, and by Eli¡¯s check-ins. Twenty kicks between each breath, one hundred breaths between each check-in. The cold rapidly returned to the innermost parts of her, encasing her heart, spreading frost tracks through her brain, cracking her bones. The gift of heat that occasionally crawled up her limbs barely touched it¨Ca candleflame in a blizzard. Eli¡¯s voice rang in her ears, far away and senseless. She kicked and felt Nick¡¯s breath and held onto the rope and counted. ¡°Mara¡­¡± She understood her name, but nothing else he said. Pressure wrapped around her wrist. Prickling heat crept up her arms. She kicked and felt Nick¡¯s breath and held onto the rope and counted. The heat hurt, as it hadn¡¯t in the beginning. It poked needles into her skin and twisted her stomach, and she realized gradually, foggily, that this check-in had gone on longer than normal. She blinked her eyes open and found Eli at her hip¨Cone hand on her wrist, the other on Nick¡¯s back. He was higher up out of the water, almost as if he was¨C ¡°You can stand,¡± he said. ¡°Oh.¡± Her numb lips ached as she forced them around the single syllable. ¡°I¡¯ll take Nick.¡± She couldn¡¯t let go of her son. If she did, the current would sweep him away. She¡¯d had nightmare upon waking nightmare of the rope coming loose, her arms giving out, his body carried away from her, his little lungs filling with frigid water. ¡°I got him, Mara.¡± ¡°No.¡± She held Nick closer and forced her body to obey her, to stop kicking and twist in the water so her legs dropped down. Her feet were numb, but she felt the uneven pressure of the rocky ground beneath them. She stood, rising up from the cold water into air that felt somehow even colder. Water trickled down her arms and glued her shirt to her belly. She tripped over an errant rock and almost fell, but Eli¡¯s arm was around her waist, holding her against him. More heat spread through her, everywhere they touched, the trickle opening up to a steady flow. She could see the bank, now, the white rocks reflecting just enough starlight to distinguish themselves from the water. It was close. She forced herself to breathe, held Nick tighter, and kept walking. Leaving the water was as painful as entering it, but she was numb to the discomfort, her senses aware of it but her mind unwilling to engage. She shivered and shuddered, stumbling over her aching feet, over the jumble of rocks. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Then the rocks were at her back. How and when they had come to be there, she didn¡¯t know. But there they were¨Cthe rocks at her back, the stars whirling over her head. Nick had gone warm, his breaths more regular. He sniffed in his sleep and cuddled closer to her, and she closed her eyes in relief, coming apart into water and sliding through the rocks to land amid a tangle of soft sheets, her body covered by a heavy duvet. The covers lifted, letting in a wash of cool air, but glorious body heat followed, and Davy¡¯s calloused hand slid across her belly. ¡°I just added a log to the fire.¡± She moaned in deep, delighted contentment as he wrapped his body around hers. She was so blessedly warm¨C Something heavy dropped with a clatter of river rocks, somewhere by her feet. She peeled her eyes open to the canopy of stars. Davy¡¯s heat was gone, the blankets were gone. Her body spasmed with cold, the only warmth in her world the heavy weight of Nick¡¯s body on her chest. Her teeth didn¡¯t even chatter, her jaw clenched so tight her molars ached. More river rocks clattered, accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing. Shadows drifted about in the outskirts of her vision and she closed her eyes, desperate to return to the warmth of the dream. ¡°Mara.¡± She blinked her eyes open. A shadow blotted out the stars above her. Cold stone gripped her shoulder. For a moment, she thought this was some manifestation of death, come to escort her to the depths. ¡°There¡¯s another patrol coming. We need to move off the shore. I¡¯m going to take Nick, and then I¡¯ll come back for you.¡± Not death. Just Eli. She waited for the press of warmth, but it never came, and she was too cold to resist when he tugged Nick from her arms. Too cold to keep her eyes open. So cold she was warm. The deathly warmth broke apart like a shattered eggshell, releasing the world back into her consciousness, but the world was odd. Amorphous and shifting, twirling about her in a clumsy, swaying dance. Her body was heavy and floating at once, soaring and lingering. And then it was laid to rest in a thick beam of dark that hid even the light of the stars. Soothed by the stillness, she drifted. Not fully into sleep, but bobbing about on the surface of consciousness. She listened to the rustle of fabric, to rasping breath, to mumbled sounds that refused to coalesce into words. She was aware, distantly, of a burning in the center of her that singed its way slowly outward. She flinched, her muscles locking, cramping in protest as the burn reached them. ¡°Shh, you¡¯re okay,¡± the universe murmured, and she realized she was whimpering. She pressed her lips together and swallowed the pain. ¡°You¡¯re okay.¡± She couldn¡¯t be. How could she? Her body hurt as if she¡¯d been beaten, pummeled to the brink of death. There were bloody bruises on her bones. And then, there no longer were. But still, her muscles were tied into knots. Until they no longer were. But still, her blood was an icy slush. Until it longer was. The pain faded, the spasms eased to shivers eased to gentle trembling. The world slid back into focus. ¡°Nick,¡± she croaked, reaching, but her hands met only cold stone. She struggled to sit. ¡°Easy.¡± The pressure on her shoulders was muted, and she realized she lay beneath a thick blanket. ¡°He¡¯s fine. You can sit, but go slowly.¡± The world spun as she slowly eased to a sitting position, Eli¡¯s hand on her shoulder to steady her. She swallowed with wince, her throat scratchy and dry. When she was upright, she saw a small, dark mass by her side. Nick. She reached out to rest her hand on his back. He wore dry clothing, his back rising and falling steadily beneath her touch. ¡°Thank you,¡± she rasped. ¡°The patrol?¡± She looked around. She could make out little in the darkness, but from the shape of the shadows she could tell they were tucked between the cliff face and a patch of scrubby vegetation. ¡°They¡¯ve passed.¡± He set a bundle in her lap. She ran her fingers over the individual objects as he spoke. ¡°Water, food, and dry clothing. Change first. Then eat. Take it slow if you have to, but finish everything there, both food and water. Your body needs the energy.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Something about the urgency in his directions caught her attention. ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡± she guessed. ¡°Just for a while. I have to find the trailhead. You¡¯re alright?¡± She was. Neither she nor Nick had drowned or been frozen to death or bashed to death against the rocks. The Order patrol had passed them by. She reached out blindly and found Eli¡¯s sleeve in the dark, following it to his wrist. ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered. He didn¡¯t answer right away, tendons flexing against her palm, playing out some silent inner battle. Whatever the sides looked like in that battle, what finally won was a quiet, bemused, ¡°It¡¯s no trouble. And you won¡¯t be thanking me for long. We still have to climb that.¡± She looked in the direction she guessed he¡¯d be pointing if it wasn¡¯t so dark. The cliff loomed over them, a stark blackness that stretched up and out of sight. Climbing it during the day would be a fool¡¯s game, Eli had explained. With Order patrols on the far banks, they would be comically easy to spot, outlined against the brown-red cliff face. They had to traverse the entire thing under cover of darkness. Tonight. (39) The Climb Within the first thirty minutes of the climb, Mara wanted to be back in the water. Eli went ahead, of course, which was good because Mara couldn¡¯t have found the trailhead if her life depended on it. Although, to be fair, without him she¡¯d never have found herself on this side of the river in the first place, so finding the trail wouldn¡¯t have mattered. In any event, they crept about in the shadow of the cliff for ten minutes before reaching the starting point¨Ca ledge barely the width of her foot, obscured behind a large, aggressively thorny shrub. The path had been cut by some enterprising sadist into the cliff wall, perilously narrow at first but wide enough after the first few zig-zagging turns for an adult with a pack to walk up the middle without much risk of falling. Nonetheless, Mara held close to the wall, one shoulder brushing it for balance in the dark and for reassurance. Ahead of her, Eli¡¯s shadow was misshapen by Nick¡¯s body, once more slung over his shoulders. As they traveled higher, Mara¡¯s mind spun to life, conjuring a host of terrible scenarios. What if Nick woke and flailed and tore loose from Eli¡¯s grasp, plunging over the side? What if Eli stumbled and dropped him? What if the strap of his pack broke and threw him off balance, and Nick slipped off his shoulders and tumbled over the edge? What if the exhaustion of the swim and all the magical expenditure caught up with him and he fell into a faint, toppling and taking her son with him? Even when her muscles started screaming and her lungs began to burn with exertion, she kept enough in reserve to leap forward to Nick¡¯s rescue should he need her. She watched Eli closely, wary once for every possible warning sign of every possible nightmare scenario. She planned how she¡¯d leap into action in each situation and sorted them into cases where she¡¯d be able to save them both and ones in which she¡¯d have to sacrifice Eli¡¯s life for her son¡¯s. A macabre exercise that her mind took to the way her body took to the climb¨Cwith pained reluctance. The path grew steeper, and their walk slowed to a trudge. Once, Mara glanced over the edge, but they¡¯d come farther than she expected and the height was more dizzying than even the central hall in the Hive. She glimpsed the Ribbon¨Ca shining trail of stars framed by bands of light gray amidst the black. She saw a beam of light, far upstream¡ªthe Order patrol. And then she got dizzy and turned her attention back to the cliff wall at her shoulder. To Eli and Nick, moving steadily up the path ahead of her. She was damp with sweat by the time they took their first break, exhaustion weighing her down as effectively as her pack. Slumping against the wall, she eagerly accepted Nick when Eli handed him over. She cradled his small, boneless body in her arms and pressed kisses to the crown of his head. Lulled by the security of his presence, she found herself suddenly waking in the four-poster bed, Davy¡¯s body at her back, his familiar scent enveloping her. She shifted in his arms, and he mumbled into her hair and tugged her tighter against him. She woke to Eli¡¯s hand on her shoulder, his brusque voice so jarringly unlike Davy¡¯s sleepy murmuring. ¡°Time to go.¡± She stood and handed Nick back over, and they continued on. The path wasn¡¯t as steep as the mountains they had climbed, but it was a steady ascent, the trail switching back every hundred strides or so. She didn¡¯t dare look down again, and her one attempt at looking up had set the stars to whirling overhead and almost sent her careening off the trail with a nauseating wave of vertigo. So, she kept her eyes on Eli and Nick, and she judged how far they¡¯d come by the air. The fresh scent of water on stone gave way as they climbed to a dry dustiness. The wind, which had been playing coyly with her hair, tugged at it more insistently, whipping her clothes against her skin and howling mournfully against the cliff face. They stopped often, as they had those first days in Ashfall, never speaking much. Eli asked a few times after her feet and whether she was still chilled, but stopped after she promised to tell him if she needed any healing. Truth be told, she didn¡¯t plan to tell him even if she did need it. Magical burnout was no joke, and no matter how smug he acted about his limits, he must still have them. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Onward and upward they trudged, until a haze of gray tinged the eastern horizon. They were taking a break when she saw it, the distant horizon a safe enough place to fix her gaze¡ªbetter than straight down or up, anyway. ¡°Sunrise is coming,¡± she noted, alarmed. She didn¡¯t realize how much time had passed. ¡°We have a couple hours yet before dawn. And we¡¯re getting close.¡± ¡°How long, do you think?¡± ¡°Half hour, maybe.¡± She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing against the cliff face and smoothing her hand down Nick¡¯s back. ¡°And then how long after that to your friend? The one with the horses?¡± He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. She never puts down in exactly the same place, but she always settles near the cliffs during the high summer. It shouldn¡¯t take but a few days to find her.¡± Mara thought grimly of what sparse provisions they had left. Even if the hunting in the plains was better than Ashfall, they were running dangerously low. She¡¯d been taking smaller helpings for weeks, and she knew Eli had been skipping meals entirely. They¡¯d be in trouble if they didn¡¯t resupply soon, especially after the energy lost to the river. ¡°What¡¯s the plan for the rest of the day?¡± she asked, dreading the answer. ¡°We¡¯ll find a place to hole up before the sun rises, sleep through the day, and travel at night,¡± he answered, raising his water flask for a sip without opening his eyes. ¡°Cover is hard to come by in the plains, so we¡¯ll stay low during daylight hours and move at night until we reach the Smokestacks. She nodded, relieved that this day, at least, was nearing its conclusion. ¡°That makes sense.¡± ¡°Ready to go?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Off they went again, up the narrow path, with that paleness on the eastern horizon ticking like a clock at their backs. By the time they reached the top, the gray had expanded to a broad arc, suffocating the stars. They wasted no time celebrating, eager to put some distance between them and the river. Now that Mara was no longer freezing to death or breathless with exertion, the reality of how close they¡¯d come to discovery haunted her. The hairs on her neck prickled at the memory of that light flashing against the side of her face. ¡°Did you know the patrol would ride by while we were crossing the river?¡± she asked, the question a sudden revelation. She could make Eli out a little better now that dawn was coming, still an overlapping series of shadows, but now with more distinct edges, more details. She could see the curve of his nose, the whites of his eyes as he glanced at her. ¡°Why do you ask?¡± ¡°It just seems like something you¡¯d have anticipated.¡± He chewed for a while on his answer, as he was wont to do. Mara, thinking she at least owed him some patience, turned her attention outward while she waited. The plains hid their secrets beneath the veil of darkness, but she could tell that the ground was eerily flat, and that there were no trees. Just low shrubs and tufts of dry grass that brushed against her shins and occasionally tried to trip her. ¡°I thought it might be a possibility,¡± Eli finally said. ¡°I take it you¡¯re angry that I didn¡¯t tell you?¡± She jogged a little to keep up. ¡°No.¡± ¡°No?¡± His voice was almost high-pitched, such was his obvious surprise. ¡°No.¡± She shuffled forward again. The man walked quickly on flat ground. Davy was like that, whenever they walked in the city¨Chis leggy stride gobbling up cobblestones while she half-jogged to keep up. ¡°I can¡¯t be angry with you tonight. You¡¯ve been too heroic in too many different ways. I¡¯ll be angry with you tomorrow.¡± ¡°Tomorrow as in when the sun comes up, or tomorrow as in tonight, after we¡¯ve rested?¡± ¡°Tomorrow as in next week, or maybe never.¡± He huffed out a laugh. ¡°So the lesson is that I can lie to you with abandon, so long as I pair my lies with acts of heroism?¡± ¡°Yes. That¡¯s the formula.¡± ¡°Interesting. But in sincerity, I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t fully honest with you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry I was a blubbering, panicky mess for the entire crossing.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t notice any blubbering. Shivering, yes. Panicking, sure. But no blubbering.¡± ¡°Are we mutually forgiven, then?¡± she asked, grinning. ¡°Hm.¡± He shifted Nick¡¯s weight again before answering. ¡°I say yes.¡± ¡°Then I do too. We¡¯re forgiven.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± As light as the words were meant to sound, there was a tinge of warmth to them. A whisper of genuine gratitude. And for some reason¨Cshe didn¡¯t know why¨Cthat made her sad. (40) Stay They made camp beneath a sky painted with brushstrokes of pink and purple and dusky blue, the air heavy with looming daybreak. Although the ground was mostly flat, as the light came up Mara saw that there were hills here and there¡ªlittle rumples in the earth that seemed sad and puny after so many days amidst the striking, rocky landscape of Ashfall. Small as they were, the hills were scored by draws, deep grooves in their sloping sides carved out by time and flowing water. They bedded down in one such draw, the ground loose and sandy. ¡°This is a creek bed¡± she noted, picking up a handful of earth. She¡¯d never felt anything like it¨Cthe uniformity of the course grains hypnotic as they ran through her fingers. ¡°It never rains this time of year,¡± Eli told her before she could voice her concerns. She didn¡¯t want to go swimming twice in one day. ¡°The safety of high ground isn¡¯t worth the risk of being sighted. If weather does come, we¡¯ll move.¡± That was all the reassurance Mara needed. Not bothering with the cumbersome shelter, they merely rolled out their sleeping rolls in the sand. As soon as Eli confirmed that Nick would sleep through the day, his body exhausted by the ordeal of the river although he hadn¡¯t been awake to endure it, Mara tumbled after her son into sleep. She woke in the four-poster, alone and not alone. Davy sat across the room by the window, shoulder against the wall, peering through the glass at the vista beyond. The window, she knew, overlooked a stunning valley¡ªsteep, pine-studded mountains plunging down into a sky-blue lake. She pushed herself upright and leaned back on her arms, studying her husband. He was pensive, dark brows drawn down over his eyes, arms crossed, jaw clenched. ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± she asked, and he started, turned towards her. Usually he wore sleep clothes. Or nothing. Today, he wore his Order uniform and boots. A pair of leather gloves were tucked into his sword belt, and his eyes were serious and hard, glinting emeralds in the sun-drenched room. She knew this version of her husband. It was the one she¡¯d sent off on dozens of missions, including the one from which he hadn¡¯t returned. ¡°I hate this,¡± he said, taking a step toward the bed, and then stopping. ¡°I hate walking out that door.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°So don¡¯t,¡± she said, trying to keep her voice calm and sweet despite the acid suddenly burning in her belly. ¡°Come back to bed.¡± His face twisted, fists clenching. He took another step toward her. ¡°Mara,¡± he breathed, anguish dripping like bitter honey from each laden syllable. ¡°I¡¯m useless, here. I can¡¯t stay.¡± ¡°You can.¡± The words came out like darts as she scrambled to toss off the covers and clamber from the bed. ¡°You can, love.¡± She reached him, took his cold, trembling hands in hers, and raised them to her lips. ¡°You can stay with me here,¡± she said, pressing a kiss to the back of his right hand, then his left. She stepped forward, sliding the balls of her feet over the slick toes of his boots and shifting her weight just enough to show that she would hold him here with her body if she had to. ¡°You can stay as long as you want.¡± In a single move, he tugged his hands free from hers and wrapped his arms around her, face buried in the crook of her neck. ¡°I love you,¡± he murmured into her skin, hot and wet. ¡°I love you,¡± she crooned back, her hands trapped between them. She pushed back and began working at the straps of his leather armor, and he stood beneath her attentions like a weary child, shoulders slumped, eyes misty and fixed to her face, adoring and intense. ¡°Stay.¡± She removed the armor, tossing it onto the armchair by the window, and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. ¡°Stay.¡± Dropping to her knees, she tugged off first his right boot, then his left. Then she stood and unclasped his belt, dropping it and the sword unceremoniously to the ground with his boots. ¡°Stay.¡± He raised his arms as she pulled off his shirt, and she ran her hands up over his skin until the little hairs rose to prickle her palms. Sliding her hands to his shoulders, she squeezed the knotted muscles there and rose onto her toes, capturing his mouth in a kiss. ¡°Stay,¡± she whispered against his lips, and then he was walking her back to the bed, tumbling her onto it. Davy, ordinarily an attentive, gentle lover, devoured her like she was his last meal. He tore her nightgown in his effort to move it aside, his hands bruising where they gripped her thighs, his kiss plunging and insistent. Mara, for her part, lay beneath the welcome onslaught and let him use her until thoughts of his leaving had been driven from both their minds. When he speared into her¨Cabruptly, without any warning or preparation¨Cthe pain was a blissful relief and she dug her fingers into the warm, living flesh of his back and drew him harder against her. ¡°Stay,¡± she moaned, as he lifted her legs and pounded out the last of his doubt into her body.. ¡°Stay,¡± she gasped when he finished and slumped over her, sweaty skin sliding against sweaty skin, his head heavy on her chest. ¡°Stay,¡± she whispered, wrapping her legs around him when he moved to pull out. He stayed. She, of course, did not. (41) Petulant Silence Mara woke near sunset, her entire body aching, and for a fraction of a moment, she imagined that she was laying beside Davy, spent and used. But the illusion couldn¡¯t persist for long. Not with the hard ground beneath her, the rough wool blanket scratching at her chin. Not with Nick¡¯s tinkling chatter somewhere distant, laid over the low rumble of Eli¡¯s voice. Immediately, she sat up, pushing the blankets off and looking around. The entrance to the draw lay ahead of her, offering a glimpse of the open prairie¨Cyellow-brown soil cast in orange by the setting sun, pocked by tufts of pale grass and scraggly shrubs. It didn¡¯t look much different in the day than it had at night. She twisted around and found her companions higher up the draw, near to where it formed, an abrupt crease, like some old god had pinched the fabric of the earth and drawn it backward into the hill. Nick and Eli knelt side by side, fiddling with something on the ground made of sticks and twine. Curious, Mara pulled on her boots and went to see what they were up to. ¡°Hi, Mama!¡± Nick said when he saw her, flashing her a toothy grin. ¡°Morning, my love.¡± She crouched at his side. ¡°What are you two working on?¡± ¡°Sner!¡± Nick declared happily, senselessly. Mara looked to Eli. ¡°A snare,¡± he clarified. ¡°We saw something skittering back here and thought we¡¯d try to catch it.¡± Mara eyed the jumbled assortment of sticks and twine at her feet. ¡°It looks perfect, Nicky,¡± she said, pulling him in to kiss his cheek. He pushed her away and went back to his project. When she looked back to Eli, he just shrugged. She knew that shrug. It was the ¡®at least he¡¯s entertained¡¯ shrug. She gave him her own patented ¡®at least he¡¯s quiet¡¯ shrug and turned her attention toward the opening of their little ravine and the vast expanse of prairie beyond. ¡°Where would you say is the best place to get some privacy, here?¡± she asked. It hadn¡¯t even come up the night before. Her body¡¯s only need had been a resounding, demanding thirst for sleep. ¡°You can leave the draw. There¡¯s a stand of trees to the left. Just keep an eye out. If you see anything, get low and hurry back.¡± She did her business by the trees he¡¯d described, appreciating the view before her now that she could see more of it. The plains were nothing like the majesty of the towering Loftland pines or the severe austerity of Ashfall. There wasn¡¯t much to them at all. Just soil and scrub and the occasional hill like the one they¡¯d made camp in, little more than wrinkles in the otherwise smooth fabric of the earth. The landscape was so starkly different, she felt as if she might be on an entirely different planet. Jarring simplicity aside, there was undeniable beauty in the vast, unbroken emptiness. The wide, clear dome of the sky stretched from one horizon to the next so that she could mark where the vivid red and glowing orange of the sunset faded upwards to pink and gold and then to pale blue. The sight made her heart quiver, made her fingers twitch. She wanted to run, not away from anything but towards some unknown but magnificent adventure. Leaving behind the view, she returned to the draw and joined Eli, who was repacking his bag. Nick played happily in the corner with his bungled snare. ¡°Should I worry he¡¯s going to catch the skittering animal you saw?¡± she joked as she knelt and opened up her own pack. Eli snorted. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t add that to your list of concerns, no.¡± ¡°Thank you for entertaining him.¡± ¡°It¡¯s no trouble. He¡¯s a good kid.¡± They¡¯d had this conversation dozens of times over the past weeks, but something was different. There was a subtle tension in his voice, a low hum of dishonesty that she recognized immediately. She¡¯d heard that same tension in her own voice, back when Davy used to come home and she¡¯d spent all day wrangling their son. This is a labor of love, but today it¡¯s more labor than love. She looked up from her pack and studied his face¨Cnot something she did often. He¡¯d proven himself a man who didn¡¯t care for intense scrutiny. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked, scrutinizing intensely. It was hard to see anything in his face, half-covered as it was in weeks¡¯ worth of beard growth and always so studiously impassive. But the shadows under his eyes weren¡¯t usually so heavy, she didn¡¯t think. ¡°You promised you would sleep.¡± He¡¯d sworn that they didn¡¯t need a watch. That he could stretch his senses further in the plains and they would wake him if there was any danger. His brow scrunched in a frown as he glanced at her, still transferring items from the waterproof bag back to the outside pockets of his pack¨Ccompass, map, fishing gear, soap.¡°Of course I¡¯m alright.¡± ¡°You look tired.¡± Dark eyes flicked to hers, then back down. ¡°So do you. It was a long night.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I don¡¯t feel as tired as you look. Was it all the magic you used? You might be close to bur¨C¡± ¡°Mara,¡± he interrupted, voice hacking off the end of her sentence with all the finesse of a dull blade. ¡°For the last time, if ever I am stupid enough to extend myself to the point of burnout, I will tell you. I wouldn¡¯t keep something to myself that would put you in danger. I promise.¡± Mara slumped back onto her heels, chest hollow. She had no right to have her feelings hurt after all the times she¡¯d snapped and snipped at him, especially in the mornings when she was still waking up and all he¡¯d done to earn her ire was be kind and make her tea. But her feelings were definitely hurt, if that ache behind her sternum was any indication. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, turning her attention back to her pack and stuffing her little drawstring bag of toilet items into one of the smaller outer pockets. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I asked.¡± Eli finished reorganizing his pack and rose without speaking, disappearing out the mouth of the draw, bow in hand. While he was gone, Mara finished as well, packing up her sleeping roll and lashing it to the outside of the pack, grateful that she didn¡¯t have to cram everything inside like she had the night before. She set the pack aside and went to check on Nick, who wanted nothing to do with her and shooed her away when she tried to help him construct his snare. At least the day was consistent, and maybe that was why her feelings were so hurt. She was used to helping. Her dream of Davy, erotic as it had been, had left her less with a feeling of sexual release and more with a warm sense of being needed. Davy had been so distraught, the despair in his eyes a poignant ache that only she could soothe. And she had. Here in reality, she couldn¡¯t even play with her son or inquire after Eli¡¯s well-being without being cut off at the knees. She was running in circles, it seemed, caught in an endless cycle of resolving to make herself useful and discovering that there was no use for her to fill. Over and over, panicking in the tunnel, despairing in Loftland, hiding in a tree in Ashfall, tearing her feet up, nearly drowning, frozen insensate, dizzy with the heights, too weak, too inexperienced, too nosy. Over and over. Resolve and collapse. Determination and disappointment. Footsteps drew her attention to the mouth of the draw, a long shadow preceding Eli¡¯s return. He carried a dusty-brown hare in one hand, its body limp. In the other, the bow and a small collection of sticks. He knelt a few feet away and began digging a hole for a darknight fire. Without speaking, she took the hare and began dressing it. ¡°I owe you an apology,¡± he said before she could offer her own. ¡°If I burn out, I can¡¯t protect you properly. You¡¯re entitled to inquire if you think I¡¯m nearing a limit.¡± Mara focused her attention on the hare, slicing a clean, shallow line across its back and pulling the skin away from the flesh. It was a skinny thing, nothing like the fat game of Loftland, or even the rangy, muscular animals of Ashfall. Mostly bone and gristle. ¡°I¡¯m not worried that you can¡¯t protect us,¡± she said, once she was calm enough to say it quietly. ¡°I just want to help. I can¡¯t swim and I can¡¯t hunt and I can¡¯t fight, I know.¡± She sliced off the hare¡¯s head. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to protect me from every little thing.¡± She separated the tail. ¡°You can let me do a little more of the work around camp, especially if you¡¯re tired.¡± She hacked off the four feet and set them aside with the head and the tail. ¡°You didn¡¯t even wake me when Nick got up. You just took care of him. You take care of everything.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± That edge was back in his voice, and it punctured the ballooning ache in her chest. She wanted him annoyed. He should be annoyed. She was. There was meant to be friction in a relationship as constant as theirs had become. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said pertly, carving the hare¡¯s body open from anus to breastbone. ¡°I forgive you.¡± ¡°How fortunate.¡± More fortunate was that the fuel he¡¯d gathered was as dry as his tone. She heard the crackle as it caught fire, smelled the smoky scent of burning. Her mouth watered in anticipation of the meal to come, her body desperate for fuel. They didn¡¯t talk anymore after that. Mara glanced once at his face, but it was set in stony lines reminiscent of Ashfall, his eyes shuttered. After that, she kept her focus on her task, slicing what little muscle the hare had into thin strips to roast over the fire. The mutual petulant silence carried on through dinner, each of them interacting with Nick but not with each other, and they managed to exchange a mere eleven words through the course of breaking camp¨C I¡¯ll carry Nick from Eli and We¡¯re running low on water. One flask left from Mara. Darkness fell, and they set off into the night, and Mara wondered if Eli felt as suddenly and profoundly silly as she did beneath the uninterrupted dome of stars. She lagged behind, head thrown back, drinking in the immensity overhead, letting it engulf her own troubles and worries until serene acceptance washed over her in a warm wave. Breaking into a shuffling jog, she drew even with him. ¡°I was acting like a child,¡± she admitted, the words flowing easily into the thin, dry air. ¡°Which is ironic, considering the whole crux of my argument is that you don¡¯t need to treat me like one.¡± He didn¡¯t speak for a few steps, and her irritation flared at the idea that he might not accept her apology. Then¨C ¡°A friend of mine loved reminding me that I can be ¡®stiflingly overbearing.¡¯ Those are his exact words,¡± he said, and from the edge of sadness in his voice, she knew who that friend had been. ¡°He was right. So are you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not overbearing,¡± she said, because he wasn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t try to control her or tell her what to do. With rare exception, he was honest with her, even when the truth was unpleasant. He just did everything himself, including things she ought to be doing. Which was somehow worse, because in addition to being annoyed, she also had to feel guilty. ¡°I understand you¡¯re just trying to do right by us. And I¡¯m grateful. I¡¯m so grateful. I just want to help, that¡¯s all. If you can teach Nick to make a snare, you can teach me, and then that¡¯s one more thing I can do so that you don¡¯t have to.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± As nice as that was to hear¨CMara was only human, and therefore loved to be told she was right¨Cthere was a burning tension in her stomach that told her the conversation was incomplete. More needed to be said, though what it was eluded her. She couldn¡¯t even tell who needed to say it, whatever it was. ¡°Thank you for looking after Nick,¡± she tried, and knew immediately that wasn¡¯t it. ¡°But next time wake me up.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± She couldn¡¯t see his face in the darkness, but she could hear him smiling. ¡°And I will.¡± That wasn¡¯t it, either. (42) A Whole Sentence ¡°Is your friend a Wanderer?¡± Mara¡¯s thighs burned as she joined Eli at the crest of a hill overlooking the destination they¡¯d been searching for two nights in a row, which appeared to be a nomadic homestead. Not that she¡¯d ever seen one, but she¡¯d seen paintings¨Cthe iconic hexagonal tents, crafted of hide, the horses, ranging free among other livestock. ¡°Half,¡± Eli said, swiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. ¡°On her father¡¯s side.¡± Mara¡¯s mind stuttered for a moment, as it did every time Eli reminded her this friend of his was a woman. For some reason, when he¡¯d mentioned a friend in the plains who would give them horses, Mara¡¯s mind had conjured up a grizzled horse charmer with a bushy mustache and one those felt hats with the broad brims. She¡¯d seen them from time to time, usually at the equinox fairs, leading massive, muscular horse about by a piece of rope that didn¡¯t seem up to the task. She¡¯d never seen a woman horse charmer. ¡°The Order lets her observe Wanderer customs?¡± she asked, peering down at the three white tents, glowing pink and shadowed with the rising sun. ¡°They look the other way. Her warhorses are exceptional, and she keeps to herself out here. They¡¯re not worried about her spreading the lifestyle, and antagonizing her isn¡¯t worth losing her business.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± For some reason, all Mara could think was that this half-Wanderer friend of his could probably have swum across the Great Ribbon on her own. ¡°Does she know we¡¯re coming?¡± ¡°No, but she won¡¯t be surprised to see us.¡± ¡°More vague nonsense, courtesy of Eli,¡± she sighed, putting some extra drama into the breath so he¡¯d know she was kidding. ¡°You like the vague nonsense,¡± he said, taking Nick¡¯s hand and heading down the steep slope of the hill. ¡°It gives you somewhere to put your brain while we walk so you don¡¯t get distracted by plants.¡± With an indignant sound, she skidded through the first few steps downhill to catch up with them. ¡°That¡¯s awfully presumptuous. I can occupy my own brain, you know..¡± ¡°Can you?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°Because every time I turn around you¡¯ve darted off to stick your head down a badger hole, looking for mushrooms.¡± Nick giggled, and they both looked down at him, shocked. He didn¡¯t usually react to the conversations they had around him. He was in an ¡®understands, but only when it¡¯s about me¡¯ phase of language development. ¡°Was that funny, Nicky?¡± Mara asked, leaning down and swinging him up into her arms. ¡°Does mama like to put her head in gopher holes?¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± he said sweetly, hand fisting in the collar of her shirt. ¡°Mama always looks for mushrooms.¡± Mara stopped, staring at her son. At his smiling mouth, pink cheeks, and the serious slash of his little eyebrows, drawn down in thought. ¡°You said a sentence,¡± she said, trying to sound calm and failing miserably. Her voice broke at the end. ¡°You said a whole sentence.¡± She looked over his head at Eli, who had also stopped. ¡°Eli, he said a whole sentence.¡± Eli smiled, hooking a thumb in the strap of his pack. ¡°He did.¡± ¡°A whole sentence!¡± ¡°Five words.¡± ¡°Perfect grammar!¡± ¡°Questionable diction.¡± ¡°A whole sentence!¡± ¡°I said a whole sentence,¡± Nick cut in, and she burst into tears. Happy, bubbly tears she thought she¡¯d forgotten how to cry. She had been so worried, for so long, that something was wrong with her son. He spoke so little¨Cjust a word here or there¨Cand what vocabulary he did demonstrate had come late compared to other children. But Davy had told her not to fret. He¡¯d spoken late too, so he¡¯d promised her. ¡°He understands us. He knows the words. He¡¯s just waiting to share them until he can put them all together. This is normal for a Linhart kid. You¡¯ll see.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. With a few deep breaths, Mara stemmed the flood, gave her son a kiss on the cheek, and let him down out of her arms before she traumatized him out of speaking again. Giggling, he set back off down the hill, promptly tripping over a rock and sprawling on his face. ¡°You okay, Nicky?¡± Eli asked as they caught up to him. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Come hold my hand, bud.¡± ¡°No!¡± ¡°Nick,¡± Mara said sternly, but he was already off. ¡°No!¡± ¡°That wasn¡¯t a sentence,¡± Eli drawled. Mara gasped out a laugh. ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± she breathed, swiping at a fresh tear before it could fall. ¡°I¡¯ve just been so worried about it, for so long I don¡¯t think I even felt the worry anymore. So when it lifted it was just¡­ a lot. He didn¡¯t even start babbling until nearly ten months, did Davy tell you?¡± ¡°That¡¯s pretty normal for a Linhart kid.¡± She nearly choked on another laugh. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what Davy used to say. I think that¡¯s why I started crying. He was right.¡± ¡°Hm.¡± The ensuing pause was so long and thoughtful, she knew whatever followed would be both wise and soothing. ¡°Would it help if I was smug about it on his behalf?¡± ¡°To the Depths, Eli,¡± she gasped, wiping at a fresh flood of inexplicable tears. ¡°Don¡¯t make me laugh. I¡¯m already crying. If I laugh I¡¯ll look hysterical, and I want your horse wrangler friend to like me.¡± ¡°Well don¡¯t waste energy there. Tiff is slow to warm with anything that walks on two legs.¡± Ahead of them, Nick tripped again, this time apparently over his own feet, landing hard in the dirt. Mara sighed. ¡°At least she¡¯ll like Nick.¡± Eli stooped and plucked her son off the ground, propping him on a hip and taking his hands one by one, turning them over to inspect the palms for scrapes. Mara had to admit it was handy having a healer on call for all the little scrapes and bruises. But part of her also worried that having all his hurts soothed immediately away was giving Nick a false sense of invincibility. Not that she¡¯d tell him to stop. What kind of mother said, ¡°No, go ahead and let him hurt. It¡¯s good for his character.¡± A good one, probably. ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± Eli said, handing her son over as they reached the bottom of the hill and started walking toward the tents. ¡°She¡¯ll have seen us coming, but let me go ahead a bit from here out. And make sure to keep hold of Nick. She¡¯s got dogs.¡± With a nod, Mara slowed and let the distance between them grow, stopping to crouch and show Nick the delicate purple blossoms of a Siklo bush. ¡°They only come out at dawn,¡± she told him, touching a finger to one of the petals. His brows pulled down and he mimicked her soft touch. ¡°They¡¯re purple.¡± ¡°Yes, they¡¯re purple! But they¡¯re very poisonous.¡± ¡°Yuck.¡± ¡°Yes. Yuck. Exactly. Never eat purple flowers. Can you say that for me?¡± ¡°Never eat purple flowers,¡± he rattled off, and was it really that easy? Eli was right¨CDavy would be unbearably smug if he was here. She¡¯d refused to listen to him, too devoted to her fears to believe his claim that it really was normal, that every remembered generation in the Linhart line had been slow to speak, including Davy himself. She wanted to lay down right here and take a nap just so she could see him, have his reaction in proximity to the event. Even if all he said was that he¡¯d told her so. Pushing to her feet before a fresh flood of tears could come, she followed after Eli who had shrunk into the distance and was beginning to pass through the scattered livestock. Sure enough, she heard the barking of dogs and slowed almost to a stop, watching from afar. Eli stopped walking as three dark shapes bounded up to him, and just when she was lifting her hand to cover Nick¡¯s eyes and shield him from the sight of their protector being shredded alive by angry hounds, the fierce, deep barking rose in pitch to happy yowls. Eli knelt, and Mara lost sight of him as the dogs converged in a writhing, tail-wagging mass. A woman emerged from the door of the flap of the largest tent. A tall, lean woman in leather pants and a baggy white shirt, hair tied up in a colorful scarf. Even from a distance, Mara could make out that her features were immaculate, carved into striking, angular lines. She started walking toward Eli, and maybe it was just the context, but Mara thought she moved like a particularly powerful horse¡ªslow and purposeful with a hint of lethality. I could cave in your sternum, but I¡¯m going to meander gracefully instead. ¡°She could definitely swim the Great Ribbon,¡± Mara told Nick, cautiously resuming her approach. She wasn¡¯t sure what exactly she expected of the meeting between Tiff¡ªhalf-Wanderer horse charmer, and Eli¨Cstoic rescuer of imperiled widows and children. A few stern words, perhaps. A crisp, competent nod of the chin. Whatever she expected, it must not have been that Tiff¡¯s stride would lengthen as she got closer, that her eerily beautiful face would collapse into an expression of anguish as she broke into a run. She definitely wouldn¡¯t have predicted the full body hug. The arms twined around his neck, face buried in his shoulder, body sagging against his. ¡°This is starting to get ridiculous,¡± she told Nick absently as they began sidling past tawny cattle and dirty white sheep. The dogs¡¯ ears perked up, eyes turning her way, but a muffled word from Tiff¡ªwhose face was still pressed to Eli¡¯s shoulder¡ªhad them sitting, tails thumping idly against the dirt. Tiff pulled away from the hug just as Mara reached them, brushing tears from her face as her eyes darted from Mara to Eli and back to Mara. ¡°Mara, this is Tiff,¡± Eli said as she drew to a stop. ¡°Tiff, as I was saying, this is Mara, Davy¡¯s wife. And his son.¡± ¡°Right,¡± the woman said, wobbly lips turning up into a smile. Eli must have filled her in some during that hug, because she didn¡¯t mention Davy¡¯s death, though she clearly knew. ¡°Come in, then.¡± She turned, leading the way back to the tent. ¡°You all must be tired.¡± (43) Orderbred Timidity Mara sat cross-legged on a pillow, Nick under her arm, and watched Tiff boil tea on a small pot-bellied stove. The woman¡¯s hands shook, the clattering of the pot lid like a gong in the otherwise silent space. Eli stood from his seat beside Mara and went to Tiff. He placed a hand on her arm and leaned in, murmuring something in her ear. She nodded once as he spoke, and once more when he finished. And then she turned and simply left. Only one dog¨Ca shaggy thing with arthritic hips¨Chad followed them into the tent. It trailed after her, head hanging. ¡°Is she okay?¡± Mara murmured as Eli straightened the lid and adjusted the teapot atop the stove. ¡°She¡¯s alright.¡± He returned to the low table, resuming his seat beside her. ¡°News is slow to reach her, and she¡¯d received some inconsistent information. She¡¯s relieved we made it here.¡± Judging by the woman¡¯s reaction, Mara guessed that the inconsistent information was an account of Davy¡¯s passing that included Eli in the body count. She couldn¡¯t verify that guess with Nick present, and didn¡¯t really want to think about it anyway, so she decided to press for a different class of information. ¡°She seems extremely relieved. I thought you said she doesn¡¯t like people.¡± ¡°I said she was slow to warm, not that she was incapable of it.¡± ¡°More vague nonsense,¡± she grumbled, reaching for one of the puffs of fried dough Tiff had set on the table before she went off to wage her losing battle with the teapot lid. ¡°She certainly seems to have warmed towards you. Oh, sweet Depths, this is delicious. Here, love,¡± she placed what was left of the bread in her son¡¯s hand before he could reach for it¨Che always preferred food she¡¯d already started to eat¨Cand took another. ¡°They¡¯re called kokas.¡± Eli took one himself. ¡°You were telling me about Tiff¡¯s warmth towards you,¡± Mara prompted when she was done chewing. ¡°Was I?¡± ¡°I believe you were, yes.¡± ¡°We¡¯re friends.¡± ¡°Mm.¡± ¡°I help with the herd now and then, when we¡¯re passing through.¡± ¡°Hm. You¡¯re warming to the truth. Not as warm as Tiff, but¡ª¡± ¡°Mara.¡± ¡°So you helped her horses.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it. Tiff keeps mostly to herself, so when she makes friends they¡¯re of great value to her.¡± He shoved an entire koka in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. ¡°And when she comes back, don¡¯t ask her if she¡¯s alright or act concerned. That¡¯ll annoy her.¡± ¡°No wonder the two of you get along.¡± He took another koka, only to hand it over to Nick¡¯s grasping hand. ¡°You¡¯re full of spit this morning.¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry. I think I¡¯m just excited that Nick talking,¡± she admitted, ¡°and that we¡¯ve made it so far. I¡¯m feeling hopeful. We crossed the Ribbon! Well, you crossed the Ribbon. I bobbed about attached to a log.¡± ¡°Nonsense, you were instrumental.¡± She opened her mouth to retort, mostly to the obvious sarcasm in his tone, when the flap lifted, spilling bright yellow sunlight and intimidating woman into the tent. Mara clapped her mouth shut and watched Tiff toe off her boots by the opening, as they¡¯d all been instructed to do upon entering the tent. The ground was covered in an overlapping assortment of rugs, the walls similarly bedecked, giving the entire place a claustrophobic coziness. There were no windows, but light poured in through the open flap and seeped through the hide that formed the ceiling, though not through the walls, muffled as they were by the rugs. As Tiff moved about her small kitchen area, she passed occasionally through the beam of light from the open flap, and Mara could see tear streaks on her cheeks, but her face had assumed a stern, unfeeling mask. This, Mara thought, was more what she had expected as Tiff set the tea on the table and sat down across from them, folding her long legs gracefully beneath her. ¡°I apologize for my dramatics,¡± she said to Mara, pouring a cup of tea. ¡°Would you like cream and sugar?¡± ¡°Oh! I can prepare it, you don¡¯t have¨C¡± The back of Eli¡¯s hand tapped her knee beneath the low table, clearly communicating that she needed to stop talking. Mara thought of the books she¡¯d read on Wanderer culture, back when she was a girl and enamored of the nomadic lifestyle. Hospitality was at the root of most Wanderer customs. ¡°Cream, thank you,¡± she corrected. ¡°Just a dash is fine.¡± Tiff prepared her tea, then Eli¡¯s, without asking how he took it. Her eyes flicked to Nick. ¡°Does the child drink tea?¡± ¡°Oh. Um¨C¡± ¡°Goat¡¯s milk?¡± ¡°Yes! Yes, please.¡± Tiff poured a serving into a small earthenware mug, and for the next ten minutes all Mara could focus on was Nick and wondering whether Tiff would let her help carry the rug out and wash it when he inevitably spilled. Eli, of all people, carried the conversation, though ¡®conversation¡¯ might have been too generous a word. Tiff¡¯s reticence put even his to shame, and the entire exchange resembled an interview, all dry questions and monosyllabic answers. ¡°How are the horses?¡± ¡°Good.¡± ¡°Got any in foal still?¡± ¡°Three.¡± ¡°Any issues this season?¡± ¡°No.¡± So it went on, and Mara was forced to set aside her theory that Tiff and Eli were lovers. She¡¯d never witnessed less sexual tension in her life. But there was still that initial hug, and Tiff¡¯s fingers continued to tremble, furtive eyes darting up to Eli¡¯s face and then back down to her teacup like she wanted to take in every inch but didn¡¯t dare do so all at once. Though perhaps not in the way of a lover, scraping together tawdry details. More like the way Mara spied on Nick when he was playing on his own and she wanted to watch without drawing his attention.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Mara drank a cup of tea, and then another, and the sun and stove warmed the interior of the tent until the air was thick and bright. She leaned back on a cushion braced against the sturdy wall of the tent, every muscle in her body telling the story of weeks in Ashfall, the frigid river crossing, the endless zig zag climb of the cliffs. Her eyelids grew heavy. Nick curled up beside her, head on her lap, fingers toying listlessly with the fringe of the cushion he lay on. ¡°Mara?¡± She startled. Eli crouched beside her, Tiff somehow having materialized across the room at the stove. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, licking dry lips. ¡°I think I fell asleep.¡± ¡°Tiff is going to get you and Nick settled.¡± Tiff chose that moment to turn around, wiping her hands on a rag and fixing Mara with shrewd, watchful eyes. ¡°My partner is away on business in Clearwater. You can stay in his tent while you¡¯re here.¡± ¡°Oh, thank you.¡± She had wondered where they would sleep, if they would sleep, or if they¡¯d just collect the horses and be on their way. It was a relief to learn there would be some respite, even if the offer roused a new litany of questions she didn¡¯t know how to broach. Hadn¡¯t Eli said that Tiff kept to herself? And now she had a partner? ¡°He won¡¯t mind?¡± Tiff shook her head with a slight quirk of her lips. ¡°Raz follows the Sisters. Sacrifice, Generosity, and Communion are the air he breathes. He¡¯ll only be sorry he wasn¡¯t here to make a show of sleeping in the dirt on your behalf.¡± ¡°Oh. Um.¡± Mara looked to Eli for guidance on how to receive this bizarre revelation, but he was pointedly studying his tea, brow furrowed and lips pressed tight in poorly masked amusement. ¡°Okay, then.¡± ¡°Shall I take you?¡± ¡°Oh. Now? Sure! Yes. Let me just¨C¡± She wrangled Nick¡¯s sleepy form upright and stood, hauling him into her arms. He snuggled against her chest with a contented murmur. ¡°I¡¯ll get your bag,¡± Eli said quietly, and they followed Tiff out of her tent and across a short expanse of bare, trodden dirt to another, slightly smaller tent. Tiff untied a series of leather straps and pulled the flap aside, gesturing for them to enter ahead of her. This new tent was similar to the other in structure, though the carpets lining the walls and floor were in varying shades of blue and green where Tiff¡¯s had been an uncoordinated muddle. It, too, had a stove in the corner though it was clearly cold and unlit. Opposite the stove, a pallet on the floor was piled with pillows, blankets, and treated furs. ¡°This space is yours for the duration of your stay,¡± Tiff said, and Mara turned to find her still standing near the entry flap. Mara¡¯s pack sat beside her feet, and Eli was nowhere to be found. The delicate sheen of tears had long since dried from the woman¡¯s face, and she struck an imposing picture, silhouetted against the sunlight streaming in the open entryway. ¡°I¡¯ll select your horses while you rest. Eli wants you to be off by dusk.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Mara said. ¡°Thank you so much. For everything. Your hospitality. The horses. If there¡¯s anything I can do to¨C¡± ¡°May I borrow you for a short conversation?¡± Mara fought not to keep her face neutral as Tiff stared her down, no uncertainty in her expression or posture. She¡¯d asked the question like she already knew the answer. ¡°Of course.¡± She glanced at Nick, already asleep. ¡°Should we step outside?¡± Tiff ducked through the entryway by way of answer, and Mara followed her, wincing against the bright light. The two women moved away from the doorway and then stood awkwardly by the wall of the tent. Or, Mara stood awkwardly. Tiff merely stood¡ªstill and sure¡ªnot deliberately elegant, but elegantly unaffected by deep social conundrums such as what to do with one¡¯s hands and where to look during protracted conversational pauses. She stared steadily at Mara. ¡°So,¡± Mara crossed her arms, decided that looked too confrontational, uncrossed them and propped her hands on her hips, decided that looked too cocksure, clasped her hands in front of her, decided that looked too insecure¨C ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss.¡± Blunt. Abrupt. And by the warmth in Tiff¡¯s unblinking amber eyes, genuine. Mara re-crossed her arms over her chest. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Davy was a good man. Courageous.¡± Mara thought of the fear he let her see in his eyes, the desperation with which he clung to her. ¡°He was.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve met Rorick and Elise. Several times.¡± Mara frowned, unsure how to participate in this disjointed conversation. Fortunately, Tiff continued without provocation. ¡°They¡¯re strong people. Courageous people. Like Davy.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ve heard.¡± ¡°They thought highly of him. And he thought highly of you.¡± ¡°I¡­.¡± How exactly did one respond to a vague, impassively delivered secondhand complement? ¡°That¡¯s nice to hear.¡± Tiff¡¯s eyes bore into her, and in seeking respite from the intensity of the woman¡¯s scrutiny, Mara finally caught sight of Eli. He wandered idly amid the herd of livestock. As she watched, a goat trotted up to him, butting his thigh gently with its horns. He stopped and rested a hand atop its head for a few heartbeats, and then moved on. Tiff said, following her gaze. ¡°Eli is treating you well?¡± Mara frowned, curiosity drawing her more comfortably into the conversation. ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a good man as well.¡± ¡°I agree.¡± The other woman gave a perfunctory nod, as if to validate the correctness of the answer. ¡°May I give you a piece of advice that is not properly mine to give?¡± ¡°I¡­ sure?¡± Another perfunctory nod, and then Tiff¡¯s turned away from Eli and pinned Mara once more with her stare. ¡°Davy was very important to the Linharts, and when you go to them,¡± she tipped her chin toward the tent, where Nick lay sleeping, ¡°you¡¯ll be bringing a piece of him with you. That alone would be enough to earn their confidence. But Davy also loved you, and spoke to them of his admiration for you. As such, they will bring you into their family as a beloved daughter.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s true.¡± ¡°It is. My advice is not to squander the value they assign you,¡± Tiff said evenly. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me saying, you carry an air of Orderbred timidity that will not serve you well in the elevated seat the Linharts will undoubtedly craft for you.¡± Mara pulled her head back, unsure if she was feeling more confused or more affronted. Orderbred timidity? The fact that Tiff¡¯s assessment was accurate only made it more annoying that she¡¯d leapt to it so quickly. All she could manage was, ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not trying to insult you.¡± Not trying, perhaps, but succeeding nonetheless. ¡°Was I to take ¡®Orderbred timidity¡¯ as a compliment?¡± Tiff¡¯s mouth widened in a delighted, almost predatory smile. ¡°Of course not. But I don¡¯t believe you are timid. I believe living as you have in the Capital has made you behave that way, and I¡¯m imploring you to leave that behavior here in the plains where the wind and sun can have their way with it. It has no place at Elise and Rorick¡¯s right hand at a time when they are most in need of a strong and quelling presence.¡± Mara didn¡¯t know if she wanted a place at Elise and Rorick¡¯s right hand, and if it was a quelling presence they needed, she was hardly the most qualified person for the job. ¡°I think you should be having this conversation with him,¡± she said, gesturing toward Eli, still winding through the gathered animals. Tiff shook her head sharply. ¡°It¡¯s for his sake that I am having it with you.¡± She sighed. ¡°But I know I have no place offering such personal advice. I hope I haven¡¯t overstepped too severely.¡± Mara¡¯s life didn¡¯t have many¨Cor any¨Cboundaries these days, so it was hard to say what overstepping even entailed. ¡°You haven¡¯t. You¡¯ve just given me something to think about is all.¡± ¡°Thank you for giving my word consideration.¡± Tiff glanced over at Eli once more. As they watched, he stopped beside a flagrantly pregnant mare and rested a hand on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯d best go stop him,¡± she said, unmistakable fondness rounding out the sharp edges of her voice. ¡°On Poli, the man has a sickness.¡± Mara was befuddled, but at this point in her journey, befuddlement had become a steady state and she hardly registered the fresh wave. Even if she had asked for clarification, Tiff was already gone. She ambled purposefully toward her herd, leaving Mara to slink back into her tent, wondering with newfound tension what truly awaited her at the end of this journey. (44) Liota Root ¡°Have you ever ridden a horse before?¡± Mara swallowed a sigh. ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry.¡± She¡¯d slept through most of the day, waking to a tent gone hot and stuffy with the afternoon¡¯s warmth, Nick sprawled sideways on the broad pallet with his feet at her hip and his head pressed against the wall of the tent. Confident that he couldn¡¯t break anything in the tent and would call out for her when he woke, she left him to rest and went in search of other life forms. When she¡¯d emerged, she found Tiff standing nearby, beside a small paddock, two horses enclosed within the flimsy fencing. ¡°No need for apologies,¡± Tiff said. ¡°Eli said you might need a lesson before you leave this evening.¡± ¡°Where is Eli?¡± ¡°Sleeping. Let¡¯s get her saddled. Mizzo, vai.¡± She clicked her tongue, and the smaller of the two horses¨Ca sleek black creature with a gray mane and tail¨Cwandered over, nosing at Tiff¡¯s ear. The woman pushed the massive head away with a twitch of her stern lips and slipped smoothly between the top and middle rungs of the fence. ¡°Come,¡± she said, waving for Mara to follow. Mara eyed the narrow space between the two rungs. She¡¯d be more comfortable¨Calbeit less elegant¨Cclambering over the top, but the fence appeared to be more of an illusion of containment than a true barrier¨Cnot something that could bear the weight of a grown woman. Or a small girl. Or a strong gust of wind. With a sigh, she tried to emulate Tiff¡¯s smooth movements, stepping over the middle rung and bending to slip her body through. She didn¡¯t feel very graceful, but she made it. Until, of course, she tried to bring her other leg through, at which point her toe caught on the rung and she¡¯d have fallen if not for Tiff¡¯s hand on her arm. Mara clung to her savior, face aflame, and disentangled her leg from the fence. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°No need. You say you¡¯ve never ridden before, but do you know your way around a horse?¡± ¡°I know not to come at them from behind.¡± Tiff nodded, as if this was a promising sign for Mara¡¯s horsemanship and not the absolute bare minimum of common sense required to move about in a world driven by horseflesh. ¡°It¡¯s probably best you¡¯ve not ridden. Mizzo is trained to voice and heel commands, which can be difficult for those more accustomed to riding with bit and bridle.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Mara said, because Tiff was doing that thing again, where she said things and then watched, waiting for some kind of answer. ¡°Here, I¡¯ll show you how to saddle her.¡± Strange mannerisms aside, Tiff made an adept teacher. She let Mara do the work, offering instructions and corrections only when needed and otherwise letting her puzzle things out on her own. The saddle was a simple construction, nothing like the ornate war rigs she was used to seeing on Order mounts, and light enough that she could lift it herself onto the horse¡¯s back. Mizzo¨CRizzo was the other horse in the paddock, a tawny thing with dark mane, tail, and stockings¨Cwas as mild as Tiff promised, standing placidly beneath Mara¡¯s fumbling handiwork with the saddle. Once she was saddled, Mara peeked in on Nick¨Cstill sleeping¨Cand went back for the rest of her lesson. Tiff taught her how to mount and dismount and walked her through basic commands¨Chof for left, zeet for right, chak for forward, yoom for back, woo for slow down. Once she memorized the commands, the rest was fairly intuitive, as the horse was trained to respond to tone of voice and the pressure of her heels against its side. A sharp, abrupt command and a hard press induced a sharp, abrupt change. A light command and a tap of her heels induced a gradual one. Tiff decided, between one round of instruction and the next, that Mara was competent. ¡°Eli was right,¡± she said as Mara dismounted, giving the ever-patient Mizzo a pat on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re a quick learner.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The complement was so unexpected she almost stumbled back. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll take good care of her too.¡± Not a question. If it was, Mara doubted she¡¯d be leaving with the horse. Nonetheless, she nodded. ¡°I will. I promise.¡± ¡°I need to start supper. You get the saddle off and fetch your son.¡± Mara did as she was told¨Chappy to practice a task that felt useful and important and relevant to her current predicament. Tiff wandered off, but a shadow soon fell over the dirt by her side. ¡°Good lesson?¡± She looked up, shielding her eyes with her hand until Eli stepped to the left so that his body blocked the warm evening sun. ¡°Hey! I was starting to worry about you. How did you sleep?¡± He shifted on his feet, running an aggravated hand through his hair. ¡°Fine, thank you. Tiff says you¡¯re a natural.¡± ¡°Tiff said that you said that I¡¯m a quick learner,¡± she shot back, hefting the saddle to rest over the top rail of the fence as Tiff had instructed. She stood for a moment after she set it down, hands hovering over the leather, certain that the weight would send the whole construction toppling. Eli watched her, lips quirking up in a smile. ¡°You can trust the fence.¡± ¡°This fence tried to kill me earlier, I¡¯ll have you know.¡± He sighed wearily, hanging his head. ¡°I leave you alone for, what? Three hours? And you¡¯re being attacked by rogue fencing?¡± ¡°You think I¡¯m happy about it? Step back.¡± She shooed him away from the fence so she could revisit the harrowing effort, this time paying extra attention to where her feet were, which of course meant she lost track of her head and smacked it hard on the upper rail. ¡°To the Depths,¡± she growled, rubbing the back of her head as she straightened. Eli stood with his arms crossed, watching her with deep, paternalistic pity. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to offer a healing session?¡± she asked spitefully. ¡°Healers can¡¯t fix wounded egos, Mara. A physik ought to know that. Perhaps a potion¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re a terrible friend,¡± she grumbled, pushing past him. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you in Tiff¡¯s tent. Nick¡¯s been sleeping like the dead. If I don¡¯t get him up soon you¡¯ll have to spell him to get him down tomorrow morning.¡± They parted ways, and she roused her son, repacked her bag, and carried both to Tiff¡¯s tent just as the sun was beginning to set. Tiff prepared them a simple rice dish, frowning in abject disbelief when Mara proclaimed it, quite honestly, to be one of the best things she¡¯d ever tasted. ¡°You¡¯ve been in the field for too long,¡± the woman muttered, looking down at her own bowl. ¡°Well, yes. But I¡¯d enjoy this anytime. It has to be the spices. There¡¯s flavors in here I¡¯ve never tasted. Do you have a recipe?¡± Tiff shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s mostly just liota root and pink pepper.¡± Mara searched the annals of her mind, wishing it wasn¡¯t bad manners to leave the table and retrieve her Codex. ¡°Liota is the one with the pink flowers?¡± Tiff shrugged. ¡°Couldn¡¯t say. It only grows at the border of the Wastelands, and I¡¯ve never been farther north than Prosco. I buy it powdered. I can package some for you when you go.¡± ¡°Oh, I couldn¡¯t¨C¡± Eli¡¯s spoon clacked against his bowl¨Can uncharacteristic bit of clumsiness. ¡°Thank you,¡± she adjusted. ¡°Thank you, very much. If I remember correctly, it has medicinal properties too. It¡¯s good for blood flow.¡± Tiff nodded. ¡°Makes you sweat, my father said. Good in the summer months.¡± And the winter months too, Mara imagined, thinking of numb fingers and toes and the ache of cold, sluggish blood. When they finished eating, Tiff slipped a generous serving of vivid green powder into a waxpaper envelope, and Mara tucked it into her special seed box where it would be safe, mind already conjuring new brews in which to use it. Ingredients were always more potent when they were gifted, even if they had no inherent magical properties. Their farewells were brief and unemotional. In the fading dusk, Tiff shook Mara¡¯s hand like they were merchants concluding a business transaction, but her eye contact was relentless and pointed. Don¡¯t forget what I told you, it seemed to say. Tiff didn¡¯t hug Eli goodbye, but they did stand close for a few moments before he mounted Rizzo, heads bent and talking in whispers that Mara couldn¡¯t make out, and not for want of trying. At the end, Tiff nodded once, crisply, and squeezed his forearm. Mara decided there might be sexual tension there. It really was difficult to say. They mounted, Nick with Eli until Mara had some practice under her belt. Mara promptly demonstrated the soundness of this decision by accidentally sending Mizzo on a slow walk backwards. She corrected, ignoring Eli¡¯s raised eyebrows and the fierce disappointment surely lurking behind Tiff¡¯s blank expression. Once they were all headed in a forward direction, Tiff walked them to the edge of the herd. She stopped there as they rode on, standing with the dogs milling at her feet, and Mara watched over her shoulder as the woman¡¯s silhouette shrank to a miniscule shadow and was finally swallowed, and all that remained of her homestead was a white slip of smoke winding up to dissipate amongst the stars. (45) Incendiary Traveling on horseback came with both benefits and drawbacks. One of the chief benefits was that the horse did most of the work. Mizzo picked her way competently across the terrain, her gait slow and steady, leaving Mara free to engage her mind elsewhere. She marveled at the stars, she ruminated on Tiff¡¯s comments, she planned how best to ask Eli what Tiff might have meant and what her life at the Enclave would look like. Once she was competent with the horse, she took Nick to ride ahead of her and she pointed out shapes among the stars, trying to find the constellations she¡¯d read about and sharing their stories with him. It was nice, being able simply to sit. Her feet certainly appreciated the rest. The primary drawback of riding was the cramping. Her legs, which had grown accustomed to constant movement, vehemently protested their static position. First her bottom cramped, then her calves. Then the former spread to the backs of her thighs, the latter to her feet. The first time Eli called a halt, she nearly collapsed when she slid off the horse, her knees stiff to the point of sharp, stabbing pain. After that, she made a point of pulling her feet free from the stirrups periodically as they rode, moving them around and wiggling her toes to keep the blood flowing. They passed two nights and days in an uneventful, quiet equilibrium, traveling under cover of darkness and bedding down for the day in whatever concealment the land presented. Little changed around them as they traveled, the terrain a dull and seemingly endless sea flat earth and sparse vegetation. Little changed in her dreams, either. Davy continued to meet her, with no further threats to leave. She continued to lay in his arms, grateful for the respite, for his continued presence in her life, however it looked. She didn¡¯t make any efforts to ask him hard questions, too anxious she might provoke him once more to leave. Eli, however, she had no such qualms about interrogating. Late on the third night after leaving Tiff¡¯s, they rode abreast with the gray eastern sky at their right. The warmth of the previous day still lingered in the thick air. Nick sat in front of Mara, leaning back against her chest, fiddling absently with the length of rope lashed to the front of the saddle and blinking sleepily. Mara guessed they had at least an hour of travel left before they started looking for a campsite. Plenty of time. ¡°Eli?¡± ¡°Hm?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering¨Cwhat do you think life will look like once we reach the Enclave?¡± He turned his gaze to the north. ¡°Whatever you want it to look like, I imagine.¡± ¡°But what if I don¡¯t meet their expectations?¡± ¡°Whose expectations?¡± ¡°Davy¡¯s parents¡¯. What if he¡¯s built me up into something I¡¯m not, and I can¡¯t rise to whatever role they expect me to fill?¡± Eli slowed Rizzo, who had drawn a bit ahead, and turned to study her. The waxing sliver of moon overhead cast just enough light to make out that he was frowning. ¡°What¡¯s behind this line of questioning?¡± ¡°Nothing in particular.¡± ¡°Mara.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just something Tiff said to me.¡± ¡°What did Tiff say to you?¡± ¡°I forget how exactly she phrased it, but she implied that the Linharts will probably¡­I don¡¯t know¡­ value my opinion? That by virtue of Davy, I¡¯ll be given some kind of responsibility. Do you think she was right?¡± He shrugged, turning his attention back to the north. ¡°She was, in a sense. An advising position will be yours to claim, should you want it.¡± ¡°But all I did was marry Davy,¡± Mara argued. ¡°That hardly qualifies me for an advising position, does it?¡± ¡°No it doesn¡¯t, but you didn¡¯t just marry him. You did good work before your marriage, and after it, and you constantly took Davy aback with your resilience, your compassion, your competence, your knowledge, your wisdom. Don¡¯t forget, it was his job to seek out recruits and he saw your value beyond the bounds of your relationship. That¡¯s what he shared with Elise and Rorick, and that¡¯s what will have earned you their trust and respect. Not your marriage oath.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think it will make others angry? Won¡¯t it look to them like I¡¯ve been given power just because I¡¯m family?¡± ¡°No, because everyone at the Enclave knows Elise and Rorick. Their faith in Davy himself was earned, not given. It had little to do with him being their son and everything to do with his possessing the qualities they want in an heir.¡± And now, Mara thought, they had lost that heir. She tightened her arm to support Nick¡¯s increasingly heavy weight. His head lolled forward, and she tipped it back and sideways to rest against her arm before returning her attention to Eli. ¡°What do you think I should do?¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Whatever you want. As I said at the beginning, your life at the Enclave will take whatever form you wish it to.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t even know what the options are.¡± They had spoken briefly on the matter in Ashfall, but all she¡¯d gleaned was that there were jobs to be done, not what those jobs actually were. ¡°Well, you could always work as a physik. There are two healing centers, and from what I hear, they¡¯re always short of manpower. You could take a position as an advisor to Elise and Rorick. Your opinion on intracity tactics would be invaluable, considering your familiarity with the Capital and the years you spent moving about undetected within it. Not to mention you¡¯d offer a fresh perspective on more established strategies. If you want to be out of doors, you could join the Scouts or the Sentinels. You move well in the woods, and if you work a bit more on your sensing you¡¯d make an excellent tracker. You could teach, you could wash laundry, you could help build homes, you could manage refugee intake, you could¨C¡± ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Mara laughed. ¡°I get it. Options abound.¡± ¡°They do.¡± ¡°But what about Nick?¡± ¡°Each neighborhood has designated caretakers for the children and the elderly, and there are the schools we talked about before, for older children. If you want to be around children, you could be a caretaker or a teacher. Of course, if you want to keep to yourself, you can do so. You¡¯ll have Elise and Rorick¡¯s support, no matter what you choose.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll have my support as well.¡± ¡°No, I mean what will you do? What are your options?¡± Silence lingered as his gaze dropped to the horizon ahead of them. ¡°I don¡¯t know, exactly. It depends on where I¡¯m needed.¡± ¡°Maybe we can both advise the Linharts. Tiff said they might need a quelling force, and you¡¯re a lot more quelling than I am.¡± He snorted. ¡°My effect on Elise and Rorick tends more toward incendiary than quelling. I¡¯m afraid Tiff was right to assign that task to you.¡± Straightening in the saddle, he stretched his neck and braced a hand on his thigh. ¡°I¡¯m going to ride ahead a bit. See if I can find a good place to put down for the night. You alright to keep the course?¡± She wanted to say no just to keep the conversation going, but even if she held him back, it was over. She recognized when a door had been shut in her face. ¡°I¡¯m alright,¡± she said. Already, he was pulling ahead. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in half an hour. Keep your senses wide while I¡¯m gone. See if you can pick up my footprint when I return.¡± This was their newest exercise, now that she¡¯d gained some mastery over resistance technique. When he rode out to scout, he would leave in one direction and return in another. She was meant to reach out with her senses and predict his arrival. She struggled with it, her perception vague and foggy in the presence of such sparse plant life. ¡°Okay. Be safe, please.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± he drawled, urging Rizzo into a canter and melting into the shadows before she could respond. ~~~ That night, Mara awoke in the four-poster and lay staring at the canopy of the bed. She¡¯d never before taken the time to appreciate the quality of the fabric draped overhead¨Cgauzy and light, dyed a pale cream color and decorated with tiny, perfectly embroidered red flowers. Each flower was unique, the delicately crafted petals in various stages of unfolding. She¡¯d never seen anything so intricate at the markets in the Capital. She turned on her side, away from the flowers, and propped herself on an elbow to study Davy¡¯s sleeping profile. Reaching out, she traced the bridge of his nose with her finger, smiling when he sniffed and turned away from her in his sleep. She continued her light perusal, feathering the pad of her finger over his jaw, his collarbone, down his sternum, until his hand came up and wrapped around hers, stalling the innocent quest. ¡°Good morning, my love,¡± he said without opening his eyes, raising their joined hands to kiss her knuckles. The rough, drowsy rumble of his voice engulfed her, lapping at her senses like a warm bath. ¡°Good morning,¡± she said, squirming closer as the sun warmed her back through the thin cotton of her nightgown. She lay back down, resting her head on his shoulder. He released her hand, and she set about tracing her name on his chest with her finger. ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± he said, like the miniscule world they inhabited didn¡¯t threaten to crumple every time she tried. Mara closed her eyes, breathing in the spicy morning scent of him. ¡°What do you think our lives will look like, once we reach the Enclave?¡± He tensed, and she went on before he, or the dream, could stop her. ¡°Nick and me, I mean. What do you think we¡¯ll do?¡± The muscles beneath her cheek relaxed, and he brought a hand up to trail his fingers idly over her arm. ¡°You¡¯ll be safe. You¡¯ll be cared for.¡± ¡°Yes, but what will we do? What will your parents expect of me?¡± He hesitated a breath, then sighed. ¡°Mara, my love, I know you¡¯re worried about how they¡¯ll receive you, but there¡¯s no need. They¡¯ll adore you. They already do.¡± It should be enough for her that Davy knew her so well. Well enough to read between the lines of her questions and recognize that she did worry over the Linharts¡¯ reception, despite Eli¡¯s reassurances. She shouldn¡¯t need more from him than that, especially when more might push the limits of what discussions were allowed and which would pull the dream apart at the seams. She shouldn¡¯t need him to hear what she was truly asking¨Cwhat burdens of responsibility had been placed upon her shoulders by his death. But the problem was that this didn¡¯t feel like a consequence of the dream. It didn¡¯t feel like some old, unknowable magic was shielding his eyes from the truth of her question, or like he was holding back his answer to protect their time together. It felt like he knew her deeply, but no longer completely. Like he was stuck here, living in this endless loop of starting anew in different versions of the same quiet place while she ran about in the noisy color of the world. Like he couldn¡¯t understand her question, her concern, because life since his death had changed her in ways he would never have the opportunity to understand. ¡°Thank you,¡± she murmured against his skin, hugging him close. ¡°You really think they¡¯ll like me?¡± ¡°I¡¯m certain of it.¡± When she began to cry, warm tears slipping over her cheeks and landing on his chest, he wrapped strong arms around her and didn¡¯t ask why she wept. Davy never had to ask. He always knew, always had the words to soothe her worries and her hurts. ¡°I promise you they will. I know you¡¯re afraid, but my family is yours, my love. You¡¯re not alone in the world.¡± She cried harder, and he held her closer, thankfully saying nothing more. (46) Sunshine and Hearth Six days crept by after Mara¡¯s conversation with Eli and the dream that had followed. Six nights spent traveling across the featureless prairie, six dreams spent in idle, sensual pursuits. Six cloudless starry skies wheeling overhead. Six pink suns warming the horizon, foretelling the end of another backwards day. Six times off with Mizzo¡¯s saddle, six times back on. By the third day, Mara could work the buckles in the dark. On the fourth, she offered to look after Rizzo as well, and Eli let her while he built the fire. Six darknight fires. Six hidden campsites. Mara had not counted the days in Ashfall, but she counted the days on the Morro Plains, because what else was there to do? Ponder her future? Interrogate Eli? Entertain her son? The first was pointless, the second futile, and the third impossible. Now that Nick was speaking in full sentences, he had endless thoughts to share. And it was not Mara with whom he wanted to share them. That honor went to Eli. She was jealous¨Cno point in pretending she wasn¡¯t. But she was also aware of her complicity in Nick¡¯s shift of allegiance. Even before Davy had died, she had been stressed. After he died, she¡¯d all but disappeared into herself. Of course Nick would gravitate toward someone more present. And on occasion, she would catch sight of them crouched side by side working on some project, their faces fixed in identical expressions of concentration or glowing with symmetrical amusement, and she felt neither jealousy nor resentment. Just gentle fondness that left her as one, but branched to twine around them both, wrapping them tightly, holding them together. Late on the sixth night, Eli pointed toward the northern horizon. ¡°You see the ripples?¡± he asked Nick, and Mara followed his finger as well. Dark as it was, she could see what he indicated¨Cdark bumps against the deep navy sky, a slight scalloped edge to the horizon. ¡°That¡¯s the Ripshaws. We¡¯re getting close.¡± Mara turned her attention back to the east, searching for any signs of a forest. ¡°The way the ground curves, you won¡¯t see the Smokestacks until we cross the Muddy,¡± Eli said, following her gaze. ¡°But you¡¯ll know we¡¯re close when the sun starts rising and the mists shift west.¡± They stopped an hour later to bed down, the dawn a gray, claustrophobic thing that settled like wet clothing on her mood. She waved her hand through the fog as she dismounted. ¡°I take it these are the mists?¡± ¡°These are the mists,¡± Eli grumbled, pulling Nick down from Rizzo¡¯s saddle and looking around. ¡°This time of year, the air shifts at dawn and brings them out of the trees and onto the plains. It¡¯ll burn off with the sun.¡± ¡°When will we reach the forest?¡± He rocked his head from side to side. ¡°Around midnight tonight. Maybe earlier. We¡¯ll¨C¡± he broke off mid-sentence, and Mara froze as she felt his magic unfurl in a wave of sensing. She stood with her hand still on the buckle of Mizzo¡¯s saddle, not bothering to reach out with her own senses. If she tried, she¡¯d just make more noise for him to listen through. Instead, she focused on pushing her fear down into the ground and swallowing her questions. Eli stood several strides away beside Rizzo, eyes closed, nostrils flaring with each slow, silent breath. Nick was on his hip, one small hand braced on his shoulder, looking around with wide eyes. Mara looked around as well, not that there was anything to see¨Cjust sifting, milky fog. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Eli¡¯s eyes snapped open and found Mara¡¯s. ¡°What is it?¡± she whispered. His hand came up to settle on Nick¡¯s back. ¡°Trouble.¡± All of her innards seemed to gather themselves up and shove against her lungs, clamoring for the safety of her ribcage. Nick emitted a little whimper and curled up, tucking his head beneath Eli¡¯s chin and clinging to his shirt, watery eyes on Mara. ¡°Head east.¡± Mara jerked her attention from her son back to Eli. ¡°What?¡± ¡°East.¡± He stepped briskly to Mizzo, pressed a kiss to the crown of Nick¡¯s head, and lifted the boy up into the saddle. ¡°Keep as fast a clip as you can safely maintain. We¡¯re a few hours from the treeline, at most. You¡¯ll have to cross the river, but it¡¯s shallow this far south. Give Mizzo her head and let her find her way across.¡± Mara went numbly to the horse when he gestured, hauling her aching body back into the saddle. Nick was crying, and she wrapped her arm around him. ¡°Where do we wait for you?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t. After the river, keep moving. At the edge of the woods, take your bag, the saddle, everything off the horse. Leave her there. She knows to head home when you don¡¯t come back for her. Turn into the woods. Nobody will follow you into the Smokestacks.¡± ¡°How do you kn¨C¡± ¡°Travel half an hour east to create some distance, and then turn north towards the foothills. It¡¯s a four, maybe a five day walk. Once the terrain starts to change, turn west and head back to the river. The guide will meet you where the water meets the foothills, on the eastern bank. The codeword they give you is ¡®sunshine.¡¯ You¡¯ll answer with the codeword ¡®hearth.¡¯ They¡¯ll direct you to the Enclave from there.¡± ¡°What guide? Eli¨C¡± ¡°What do you do when you reach the forest?¡± ¡°Head east. But¨C¡± ¡°For how long?¡± ¡°A half an hour.¡± ¡°Then?¡± ¡°North, four or five days to the foothills. Then west again to the river. Eli¨C¡± ¡°The codewords.¡± ¡°Sunshine.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°Hearth.¡± ¡°Good. Go. I¡¯ll catch up.¡± That was an awful lot of very rushed, very detailed instruction for a man who planned to ¡®catch up.¡¯ ¡°Where are you going?¡± ¡°To slow them down.¡± ¡°Slow who down? Eli, just come with us,¡± she begged, and later she would wonder what had come over her. In a moment so obvious rife with pressing, looming danger, why did she linger? Why did she waste time pleading with him not to protect her? Not to give her the head start she apparently needed? ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He looked it, too. Sorrow pinched at the corners of his eyes and hardened every angle of his face. ¡°But you need to go, Mara. Now.¡± He didn¡¯t wait for her to respond or even for her to go. Giving her his back, he stalked to Rizzo, swung up into the saddle, and kicked the horse into a gallop, heading west. The fog billowed out ahead of him and rolled back in behind. In seconds, all that remained was the sound of thundering hooves. Swallowing tears, Mara tightened her hold around Nick and urged Mizzo in the opposite direction. Toward the Smokestacks Alone. (47) The Smokestacks ¡°Mama?¡± ¡°Shh, my love, I know,¡± Mara tried to soothe, but the words tinged the back of her tongue with bitter tension. She heaved the saddle from Mizzo¡¯s back and lugged it into the trees, tossing it behind a log. Not exactly hidden, but at least not sitting there at the edge of the trees like a beacon pointing her way. ¡°Mama, I¡¯m tired.¡± ¡°I know, Nick. Just a second.¡± She removed the blanket and gave the horse a single pat on the neck. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m sorry to leave you like this.¡± Eli wouldn¡¯t have lied to her about the horse finding her way home, would he? Best not to think about Eli. Leaving the horse at the edge of the trees, Mara focused her mind resolutely on the next step. And the next step, at present, was to start walking. She went to where Nick sat with her pack and slung the bag up onto her shoulders. ¡°Mama, where¡¯s Lili?¡± Nick asked, pushing to his feet and rubbing at his eyes with his fists. ¡°He¡¯s going to catch up with us,¡± she said. Lied? Depths, what if she¡¯d now told this poor boy two lies about two men? What lovely bookends on his colorful shelf of childhood trauma. Not to mention the way her own heart clenched with fear. Don¡¯t think about it. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She tried, for a few steps, leading Nick by the hand, but he was tired and cranky and confused. And how could she possibly offer adequate soothing when she was also tired and cranky and confused. And scared. And worried. Don¡¯t. There was no one to catch her if she fell anymore. She was all Nick had. All she had. She bent down to heft Nick into her arms, and if he felt heavier than usual, that was just because he was growing so fast. Not because there was no one else to take him when her arms got tired. And anyway, she wouldn¡¯t get tired. She was strong. Holding Nick and ignoring her already protesting back, she plunged deeper into the woods. Already, with the trees still thin around her, she could tell that these woods were of a different character than those she¡¯d traveled before. Ashfall had possessed a rugged innocence, a newness that made it wild and forbidding but also simple. Easy to reckon with. Loftland had echoed like the cavernous entryway to the Depths, everything divine from the sunlight to the hush of the rainfall. Powerfully and overwhelmingly safe. The Smokestacks felt neither safe nor simple. Neither new nor divine. They made the holiness of Loftland into something pale and introductory. If that land of towering pines had been the entryway to the Depths, these vine-draped, fat-trunked behemoths marked the far end of the eternal journey, where the road circled around and spat the soul back into chaos, squalling with indignant despair. Here, the trees put down roots that dwarfed their thick trunks and heavy canopies. She felt them writhe their slow, searching dance beneath the earth, plunging down to where soil became rock and cracking that rock where it lay. Here, no inch of soil was untouched by growing things and by the ceaseless churn of life from death, the sweet odor of decay and new beginnings. Mara clutched Nick closer as trees pressed in and the way became a thick tangle. Thorns grabbed at her sleeves, and she was forced to turn and walk backwards, using the protection of her pack to force her way through a wall of prickly vines. She saw the trail she left behind, clearer than a scattering of white confetti. Broken vines, trampled leaves¡­ But Eli had said nobody would follow her, and she had to believe him. What else was there to do? Not think of Eli, to start. She walked for half an hour. When she looked up, she could see little pricks of white-yellow light through the overlapping leaves, so she knew the sun was out, shining diligently overhead. And as it climbed toward its apex, Mara plunged deeper into the forest and darkness crept in. Soon, it was too dark for the vines and thorny shrubs, thick underbrush giving way to damp, choking emptiness. All that remained was the mushy carpet of soft mulch and the occasional red-leafed fern. And the mushrooms. Once her eyes adjusted, Mara saw them everywhere. A dizzying number of sizes and shapes and varieties, some of which even she didn¡¯t know. She stopped to crouch beside a rippled wave-mold, cascading over the side of a fallen log. Even in the darkness, the streaks running along the surface were a vibrant, piercing blue, pulsing with eerie luminescence. ¡°This one is called Sea¡¯s Charm,¡± she told Nick, unsure why she did so. To convince him that everything was normal? To convince herself? She rose from her crouch and carried on. ¡°It¡¯s poisonous to eat, but if you mash it up really, really well and let the liquid separate, you can put it on burns to stop the pain.¡± Nick dropped his head against her shoulder. ¡°Mama, I¡¯m tired.¡± ¡°I know, my love. You can go to sleep if you like.¡± He did. Not right away, but slowly as she walked. His body quadrupled in weight, leaving her alone with her thoughts. What was her next step? Had half an hour passed? Which way was north? Was she still heading east? If Eli was with her, he¡¯d have insisted they stop for a break by now. He would have seen how she was sweating under Nick¡¯s weight. Don¡¯t think of Eli. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. She stopped, laying Nick carefully on the ground and pulling out her water flask, her compass, and the pocket watch. She didn¡¯t know what time she¡¯d entered the woods, so she had to guess. Resolving to go fifteen more minutes east, just in case she hadn¡¯t come far enough, she pocketed the watch and pulled out the compass. She¡¯d been heading more north than east, but had kept her course better than she expected. She drank a few sips of water and instead of thinking of Eli or whatever faceless enemy he¡¯d gone off to fight or what nightmares might visit her and Nick if they spent the night in this forest without him or how she could possibly finish the journey alone, she made a mental catalogue of all the food she had with her, and what she might have to forage to feed them. She also thought of her next step, which was to keep heading east for fifteen minutes and then turn north. Easy. Stowing her flask, she lifted Nick and made an effort to sling him over her shoulder like she¡¯d seen Eli do¡ªresting more on her pack than on her body. It worked well enough, and she set off with her arm clamped around his legs and the compass in the palm of her other hand. She could barely see the face of the compass in the dark, the north-pointing arrow a narrow sliver of white that could just as easily have been a glint off the glass casing, but she found her heading. As she walked, with Nick sleeping and vulnerable, her own vulnerability rolled over her like a cloud blocking out the sun. These woods¨Cdark and close and ancient and new¨Cpressed in on her back, screaming with life. The trees conspired beneath her feet and whispered secrets overhead. So, she did the only thing she could think to do, and she began to whisper secrets back. ¡°I know you don¡¯t want us here,¡± she murmured, looking up at the dense canopy. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to intrude. But we¡¯re on the run and we were in a lot of danger, and the people chasing us know they¡¯re not welcome here, either. And as much as I respect you more than them, I fear you less. Not that you aren¡¯t fearsome. You¡¯re very fearsome. I don¡¯t mean any offense, it¡¯s only that I don¡¯t get the sense you¡¯re malicious. And they are.¡± Somewhere to the right, distant but still too close, a twig broke. Mara almost stumbled, her heart rapping urgent knuckles against the backside of her ribs. ¡°I admit, though, I¡¯ve always wanted to visit. Even if I wasn¡¯t being chased, I might like to explore you a bit if you were open to it.¡± she said. ¡°I have a bit of a passion for plants, and I¡¯ve read in several sources that the Smokestacks boast the greatest variety of plants and fungi on the continent. Perhaps in the world.¡± She¡¯d also read that the Smokestacks boasted the greatest variety of animal life and an array of magical creatures surpassed only by the sea, which was more frightening to her than intriguing. But that didn¡¯t seem worth mentioning. Before she could go on, her eye caught on a vivid splash of yellow. A vine, the stalk thin but with broad leaves the width of her palm that clung to the trunk of the tree around which the vine had wrapped itself, contouring to the canyons and ridges of the bark. ¡°See, now, this is magnificent,¡± she said, not having to feign the excitement in her voice. ¡°Only a few leagues past the treeline and you¡¯ve got rubifel growing right up out of the ground like a charm.¡± She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the velvet softness of a leaf. She longed to take one of the leaves¨Cjust one. The milk of the rubifel leaf was the most magically potent mood enhancer in the natural world¨Cin league with the influence of a skilled persuasive magic user. Rubifel was also petulant and temperamental about its conditions and refused to grow in anything but rich, black soil and deep, persistent shade. ¡°I¡¯ve got rubifel seeds in my pack, you know,¡± she told the plant, the forest, the thick air around her. ¡°I brought them all the way from The Capital. I tried a few times to get them to grow, but I never could replicate the conditions. I was always accidentally exposing them to too much light. Did you know even direct lamplight is deadly to a rubifel sprout? You probably did¡­¡± She moved on, walking and talking, telling the forest the silly secrets of her heart. As time went on, she ran out of silly secrets and found herself confessing deeper, more painful truths. She told the woods of her dreams with Davy, of the lies she¡¯d told her son, of her fear that her time as Davy¡¯s wife, as glorious and sweet as it had been, may have softened her to the world in unwelcome ways. Of her uncertainty that there would be a place for her where they were going, and that she would be strong enough to take it if there was. When she started rambling toward her uncertainty that they would make it to the Enclave at all, without Eli, she decided it was time to wake Nick. An hour had passed as they moved steadily north, and according to her watch it was time for lunch. She stopped and roused her son, hoping she¡¯d be able to keep him up through the afternoon so he would sleep at night. His poor body would be so confused by the switch in sleep schedule without Eli¡¯s magic to help him adjust. Don¡¯t think of him. She plied Nick with bread and cheese¨Csome of the remains of Tiff¡¯s generosity¨Cand ate an apple, listening to the sounds around them. Birds chirped and rustled about in the canopy above, small animals scampering in the carpet of leaves below. There was a comfort in the constant chatter, albeit a raucous and headache-inducing comfort. There were more than birds and rodents in the Smokestacks, she knew. Land squids. Wooly trolls. Mammoth wolves. Striped boar. And worse¨Cdark, powerful creatures that even the strongest warriors couldn¡¯t kill or defeat. Only survive or evade. ¡°Mama, where¡¯s Lili?¡± Nick asked through a mouthful of bread and cheese. Don¡¯t. ¡°He¡¯s taking care of some things, sweet pea. He¡¯ll catch up to us.¡± Nick looked around, forehead scrunching. ¡°It¡¯s scary here.¡± The apple turned sour in Mara¡¯s mouth. There were so many sides of Nick she¡¯d learned to carry¨Ccranky, sleepy, hungry, angry, whiny. But she had never adjusted to his fear, which always draped itself around her like a dead body. ¡°What makes you say that, love?¡± she asked, swallowing her apple and squaring her shoulders against the weight. Nick lifted his own little shoulders and dropped them in a dramatic shrug. ¡°It¡¯s dark.¡± ¡°It is, yes,¡± she said thoughtfully, looking around. ¡°But we¡¯ve been in the dark a lot on our journey, haven¡¯t we? And we¡¯ve learned to use our other senses. What do you hear?¡± His nose wrinkled and he took another bite of his cheese, discarding the bread on the ground beside him. Mara sighed and picked it up, brushing off the leaf-matter it had accumulated and helping herself. Once Nick set aside a piece of food, he wasn¡¯t likely to pick it back up, and they couldn¡¯t afford to be wasteful. ¡°Nicky, can you tell me what you hear?¡± she prodded, trying to keep him engaged and out of his mind. Trying to keep herself engaged and out of her mind. ¡°Birds,¡± he said, then smiled mischievously at her. ¡°Chirp, chirp!¡± Mara laughed. ¡°That¡¯s right! What else do you hear?¡± He took another bite of cheese. ¡°Mama, where are we going?¡± Oh, well. But she¡¯d take curiosity over fear. ¡°We¡¯re going to the Enclave, Nicky. To visit your grandma and grandpa.¡± ¡°And Dada?¡± The bread lodged itself in her throat, and Mara had to take a sip of water to wash it down. For some reason, she actually wanted to tell him the truth. This felt like the right time¨Codd considering that there really could be no worse time. In the end, she trusted her intellect over her instincts and nodded with a rigid smile. ¡°Yes, and Dada.¡± Stowing her water flask back in her pack, she stood and slung it over her shoulders, reaching out a hand to Nick. ¡°Come on then, love. Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± (48) Alone During the day, the Smokestacks were like walking through a vague and mild nightmare¨Cmurky and unsettling but not overtly threatening. Mara wouldn¡¯t describe the state of equilibrium she found as ¡®calm¡¯ but she was able to keep up appearances for Nick. Which admittedly was a paltry metric for mental soundness, but at least it was a metric she could meet. Throughout the day, she entertained him¨Cand distracted herself¨Cwith the plants and the little sounds they heard out in the woods. She made up animals to go with each sound¨Csweet and ridiculous creatures with sweet and unthreatening lives. But as the day wore on, the light began to fade, as light was wont to do when days wore on. Enclosed as they were in the thick canopy, Mara had little indication that time was even passing, let alone that the sun might be sliding back toward the horizon. So she had little warning that day was about to turn into night. Between one stretch of woods and the next, the light was simply gone. Nick, who was walking beside her, his hand in hers, slowed. ¡°Mama?¡± ¡°I know, love.¡± She picked him up and pecked his cheek. ¡°We¡¯ll find somewhere to make camp for the night, shall we?¡± ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡± ¡°I know, my love. These woods are awfully dark and spooky, aren¡¯t they?¡± He nodded, his face a shifting charcoal shadow, lower lip protruding in a wobbling pout. ¡°But do you know why that is?¡± He shook his head, and she began to walk once more. ¡°The reason the woods are so dark is because these trees are just so big and healthy, their leaves are gobbling up the sunlight before it can reach us. And the reason it feels spooky is because there¡¯s so many stories here. Think of all the plants and animals we learned about today! We didn¡¯t have half that many different plants and animals in our little house, did we?¡± ¡°No.¡± His voice was thready and woebegone. ¡°And each plant has a whole life of its own. A whole story. And it fills the air with that story, so that we can hear it if we listen very carefully. And here, there are just so many lives and stories, our ears get tired.¡± He¡¯d laid his head down on her shoulder, so that his hair tickled her neck and the underside of her jaw. She felt his nod in the hollow of her throat. ¡°So it¡¯s not that anything is scary, it¡¯s just that it¡¯s loud here, but in a different kind of way that you hear with your heart instead of your ears. Do you think it would help to hear a song?¡± Again, he nodded, fingers wrapped around the strap of her pack, so she began to hum. She didn¡¯t sing, as a rule. Singing felt a little bit like flashing her breasts in the middle of a crowded street. There was nothing wrong with her breasts, per se, or even with people seeing them, just as there was nothing terribly wrong with her singing voice. But it still wasn¡¯t a pleasant thought. Some things were meant to be private. She didn¡¯t sing, but she did hum. She liked the way humming felt, the low and slow vibration in her chest and throat. It soothed her, she thought, as much as it soothed Nick. And Davy, when he came home weary so she brought him to bed and tucked them both between the covers, and they reversed their normal positions so that his head rested on her chest, and she stroked his hair and hummed until he fell asleep. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Her eyes burned, and the strain of the mournful melody she was humming caught in her throat. She cleared it out and came back to herself. Nick had fallen asleep, one arm dangling down by his side, the other hand still clutched around the strap of her pack. She squinted into the darkness around her, trying to find something resembling a safe place to stop and rest. But all she saw was trees and milky darkness. Something in her chest began to press outward¨Ca building need to scream. As the last of the gray light faded to black, the volume of the forest brightened to an incessant clamor, popping and cracking like a fire. The sounds wove together into a ragged tapestry that rippled like a flag in the wind, each sound at once distant and close enough to touch. The scream within her had crawled up to writhe around in the back of her mouth when she finally stumbled upon a half-decent shelter¨Ctwo trees that had grown out of the ground and then somehow twined together, thick trunks merging into a sloppy braid of light bark against dark. Their joining formed a sort of cave, small and shallow, but with enough coverage overhead and along the sides to provide some sense of security. Mara stomped on the ground beneath the overhang and kicked out the collection of dead leaves, grateful there wasn¡¯t enough light to see all the creepy crawlies she¡¯d no doubt unearthed as they wiggled across the newly bare patch of soil to find shelter elsewhere. Once the ground was clear, she knelt and laid Nick down, and shrugged out of her pack. Working blind¨Cnight had properly fallen¨Cshe worked the sleeping roll free from its straps and spread it across the ground beneath the overhang, shifting Nick onto it as she worked. Once the blankets were rolled out, she wheedled Nick¡¯s limp body under the blankets and then slipped in with him, boots and jacket still on. Tomorrow night, she would keep track of the time, find a campsite while there was still light, and do the proper thing. She would take their boots off, brush their teeth, change their shirts. She would do a lot of things differently tomorrow. But tonight it was enough that they had survived the day. Mara tucked them into the safety of the blankets, pulling her pack close so that it blocked the opening near their heads and looping the strap around her arm in case some enterprising life form tried to snatch it from her while she slept. She¡¯d turned the pack so that she had access to the large knife strapped to the side. She used the knife primarily to dig up tubers and split firewood and would probably be more danger to herself than others if she tried to use it in a fight. Still, she felt safer with it at hand. Eli had bought it for her back in Cinder. He¡¯d even given her a few lessons on how to hold it if she needed to defend herself. Stop thinking of Eli. Strange, how much safer it felt under here. There was really nothing protecting them except concealment, and that only from creatures that navigated with eyes that saw the way hers did. Their scent was everywhere, no doubt, the sound of their breathing deafening to anything that listened, their magical footprint a messy, intrusive human splotch against the slow interweaving of the plant life around them. But she did feel safer. Safe enough to slow her breath and imagine that she and Nick were not in fact humans but part of the trees that entwined around them. She thought of their roots, their slow dance down into the soil, the security of knowing that even if some creature came along and scoured their bark with a claw, they would still drink up the earth with their roots and breathe the sunlight and dance the dew from their leaves in the breeze coming down off the mountains. She thought of all the years they would have together, watching the sun rise and set across blue skies and behind the dull gray of the clouds. The roots of new undergrowth would tickle them beneath the soil, and then go still, and some time later worms would carry down the remnants of those other lives and feed those sweet and savory morsels into the soil, and she and her child would capture up the remnants and send them back up out into the sky for the sun to burn away. Her arms twined around Nick and she sank them into the earth, and slept so deeply even Davy didn¡¯t wake her. (49) Burnout ¡°Mara!¡± ¡°Mama?¡± ¡°Mara! Nick!¡± ¡°Mama, wake up.¡± A small, blunt finger poked her hard in the cheek and she startled awake, rapping her forehead against something hard and rough. ¡°Gah!¡± she gasped, clapping a hand to her forehead. ¡°Nicky! Mara!¡± She stilled, trying to pull her surroundings into a semblance of sense. Rolling her head to the left, she saw her pack. Her knife. A patchwork of wood and moss that curved overhead and ended where her pack began, their joining a crease of dim light. Also, was she still wearing her boots? Between one breath and the next, the previous day¡¯s memories came back, and it was only then that she finally realized someone was calling her, from the far side of her pack. Someone familiar. ¡°Mara?¡± Urgency teetered on the edge of outright panic. ¡°Eli?¡± she called back, pushing her pack aside. ¡°Mara!¡± All she could see was his legs as he swiveled around to face her. Then he dropped into a crouch and his face was six strides from hers, eyes wide and frantic. They met hers for several startled heartbeats, and then his head fell forward as if his spine had deflated. ¡°Thank the gods,¡± he breathed, running a hand down his face. Nick chose that moment to emerge from under the blankets wearing the most blinding grin Mara had ever seen. ¡°Lili!¡¯ he exclaimed, wiggling free of the blankets and her arms before she could think to stop him, and she scrambled to disentangle herself and follow. He slammed into Eli hard enough the man had to drop to one knee and put a hand down to keep from toppling. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Mara mumbled, crawling on all fours until she was out from under the covering and then sitting back on her heels. But Eli¡¯s arm had closed around Nick¡¯s shoulders, and he cradled the boy¡¯s head against his chest with his other hand. Face lowered, eyes closed, he simply held Nick and breathed as if he¡¯d just summited a mountain. Except she¡¯d seen him summit mountains, and he hadn¡¯t been near this undone by the exertion. When he looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed. ¡°I thought you were dead,¡± he breathed. Mara was struck with a sudden clang of realization. This man actually cared about them. Not as an obligation or a duty, or because he cared about Davy. Not because it gave him the opportunity to perform the endless acts of selfless heroism for which he was so predisposed. He cared about them in a way that hurt¨Ca hurt that Nick¡¯s joyful hug clearly soothed. Mara was then struck by a second sudden clang of realization. She actually cared about him. Not out of gratitude or admiration, or because he cared about Davy. Not because she needed someone else to carry Nick when her arms got tired. She cared about him in a way that, at the sight of him holding her son, bubbled up in a fizz of joy¨Cjoy that painted itself across her face in the form of a giddy, gleeful smile. She pushed to her feet and Eli stood as well, Nick sitting comfortably in the loop of his arm. ¡°Hey,¡± she said, because she didn¡¯t really know what to say in these circumstances. Last time she thought a man was dead, he really was. So she was a little lost this time around, when the man she thought was dead had found his way to stand here, breathing, before her. Eli only shook his head. ¡°Your footprint was gone. I followed it all the way here and then¡­¡± He shook his head again, bloodshot eyes fixed on hers. ¡°You were gone. Couldn¡¯t see you, couldn¡¯t sense you. I thought you must have¡­must¡¯ve¡­¡± He trailed off, staring listlessly at the hollow beneath the tree and her rumpled blankets. ¡°That wasn¡¯t there before. You weren¡¯t there.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure we were,¡± she said dubiously, reaching out and slowly extracting Nick from his grip. ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said, taking a shambling step back, attention swinging from the remnants of their camp to Mara and Nick, back and forth, back and forth. As she studied him more closely, the mottled shadows on his clothing revealed themselves to be dark stains, and his gaze was bright, almost feverish. ¡°Eli,¡± she said gently. ¡°Are you sure you know what that word means?¡± His eyes slid back to hers, and she made a show of scanning his body. He followed as if in a daze and stood for a moment, staring down at himself before declaring, ¡°It¡¯s not mine,¡± which would have been more reassuring were the words not born forth on a wave of bemused, philosophical uncertainty. Still, this didn¡¯t seem like blood loss. ¡°Did you expend a lot of magic?¡± When he looked back up at her, she repeated herself. ¡°Did you expand a lot of magic, Eli?¡± He nodded¨Ca single dip of his chin that wilted there in the middle and left him standing in the vague manner of a scolded child. ¡°Okay. That¡¯s okay. Why don¡¯t you come sit down for a minute.¡± She backed up and tipped her head toward the vacated chaos of blankets beneath the overhang. ¡°Take off your pack. I¡¯ll get you something to drink.¡± Mara hadn¡¯t had much occasion in her life to treat magical burnout. Innate magic users were vanishingly rare outside the Order¡¯s ranks, and her services weren¡¯t legal within them. But she knew the basic stages, and had seen the first in Davy a few times¨Ca slight headache and fatigue. From what she recalled, this was stage three at least, when the vacuum left by the magic began to leach energy from the body, wreaking slow, progressive havoc. It started with largely cognitive effects¨Cmalaise, confusion, blurred vision¨Cand progressed to observable signs, like diminished blood flow to the extremities, dilated pupils, excessive sweating, and nausea. She couldn¡¯t remember which symptoms fell into which stage, but that didn¡¯t matter. The treatment was the same¨Crest, replenishment, and rejuvenatives.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Eli shrugged his pack off and set it on the ground by hers, and then stood staring at it like it had asked him a riddle. ¡°Eli?¡± Mara said, setting Nick down and gesturing to the ground beside the pack. ¡°Sit down, okay?¡± He obeyed, bracing his back against one of the trees and sliding down to sit with his legs bent, arms draped over his knees. He dropped his head back and studied the leaves. ¡°I thought you were dead.¡± ¡°Well, you were wrong.¡± Crouching beside him, Mara turned one of his hands over, frowning at the blanched skin of his palms. In contrast, his face was flushed and burned hot against the backs of her fingers. She pulled the flask from his pack and turned to Nick, who sat on the blankets, watching Eli with somber, thoughtful eyes. ¡°Nicky, can you get the snacks out of Mama¡¯s pack?¡± He nodded and crawled over to tug at the straps of the pack, and she waited to see that he was suitably occupied before turning back to Eli. ¡°Hey.¡± She waved her hand in front of his face, and he blinked and lifted his head, eyes taking a moment to find and focus on her. She pressed the flask against the backs of his fingers, untwisting the cap when he accepted it. ¡°Drink. Slowly. And don¡¯t go to sleep.¡± She left him there to his slow drinking and not sleeping, and turned to join Nick at their packs. She helped him loosen the second strap and pulled the satchel with their food from its place at the top, handing it to Nick. ¡°Get out the dried apples and the crackers, okay?¡± He nodded and began rummaging determinedly through the contents as Mara pulled out her physik¡¯s kit and flipped down the first flap to reveal the little vials, held in place by loops of softened leather. She tugged one out and slipped it into her pocket before replacing the kit in her bag and shuffling back to Eli, who sat with the flask held aloft by the suggestion of a grip, his fingers loose around the neck. ¡°I¡¯ll take that,¡± she said, unstoppering the vial and swapping it out with the flask. ¡°Drink that for me. One swallow.¡± He lifted the vial and stared at it like he could divine what it contained just by studying the play of the light against the plain brown glass. ¡°Rejuvenative,¡± she said, nudging his wrist. ¡°Drink.¡± Though she didn¡¯t possess persuasive magic, she put a push of authority into her tone. Magic or not, he tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth, dropping his head back as he swallowed. ¡°Gods,¡± he breathed, eyes slipping shut. ¡°I thought you were gone.¡± I thought you were, too, she wanted to say, and probably would have if Nick wasn¡¯t right there listening. ¡°We¡¯re fine. We¡¯re right here,¡± she said instead, taking the empty vial and handing back the water. ¡°Drink this. Small sips.¡± For the next ten minutes she waited for the rejuvenative to take effect, offering dried apple and crackers and reminders about the water until his body had finally accrued enough fuel to relight the fire that had gone out inside him. It happened between one breath and the next, and Mara slumped back with a relieved sigh as he frowned and blinked his way back into his faculties. He lifted his head, looking first to Mara, who sat beside him, and then at Nick perched on her lap, silent and watchful. He cleared his throat and swallowed with a wince. Opened his mouth and then shut it. Dropped his head back once more and stared moodily at the canopy. ¡°Hello,¡± Mara said, graciously opening the conversation for him. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± The kinder act would have been to pretend the last ten minutes hadn¡¯t happened, but good physiking often required sacrificing what was kind for what was necessary. Eli looked down at his hands, flexed them a few times, and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That¡¯s never happened to me before.¡± ¡°That¡¯s interesting, but it doesn¡¯t answer my question,¡± she said, wrapping her arms around her son and resting her chin atop his head. ¡°I asked, ¡®how are you feeling?¡¯¡± She raised the volume on the question and enunciated the words as if speaking to someone hard of hearing. Not because hearing loss was a symptom of burnout, though. Purely to annoy him. He deserved it. He had worried her. Finally, he met her eyes, and she was relieved to see the sharp edge to his appraisal. ¡°I¡¯m glad your attitude is still intact,¡± he grumbled. ¡°I feel better, thank you.¡± ¡°Mm, that¡¯s not good enough. Nick, love, can you fetch the rabbit jerky for us?¡± Eli sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t need¨C¡± But Nick had already toddled off to dig through her pack. They¡¯d eaten the last of the rabbit jerky yesterday, but she wanted him occupied for at least a couple of minutes. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± she repeated, removing any trace of compromise from her tone. ¡°With details, this time.¡± ¡°Mara,¡± Eli groaned, scrubbing at his eyebrow with the back of his hand. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Honestly.¡± She reached out and snagged his wrist, turning his hand over and pressing her thumb to the center of his palm, still waxy pale and cold to the touch. ¡°Pins and needles, or completely numb?¡± Jaw clenched, he squeezed his hand into a fist and then released it. ¡°Pins and needles. It¡¯s getting better.¡± She held three fingers up. ¡°How many fingers?¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with my¨C¡± ¡°How many fingers, Eli?¡± ¡°Three,¡± he said through his teeth. ¡°Headache?¡± ¡°Mild.¡± ¡°Nausea?¡± ¡°Not anymore. The food helped.¡± ¡°Dizziness?¡± He swallowed and fixed his gaze to the canopy. ¡°A little. But¨C¡± ¡°Do you have any open wounds I should know about?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Broken bones?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Did you suffer any blows to the head?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Can you tell me what day of the week it is?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Can you tell me what day of the week it is?¡± Mara stroked her chin, making a show of appraising him. ¡°I think you¡¯ll be okay.¡± ¡°One might even say I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°I still don¡¯t think you know the meaning of that word,¡± she argued. ¡°But you did a really good job, answering all of those scary questions. I usually keep sweets for my clients who are frightened of the physik, but I¡¯m afraid all I have is dried apples. Would you like another, as a reward for being so brave?¡± She held out the waxpaper envelope, and he scowled at it, then at her. But in the end he did take a slice, shoving it grudgingly into his mouth. ¡°I should have left you in the river.¡± ¡°Chew first, then talk.¡± He chewed and swallowed, irritation sliding off his expression. When he spoke again, his tone was low and earnest. ¡°Thank you.¡± Mara shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s no trouble.¡± His smile tried very hard to be a grimace. Or perhaps it was the other way around. ¡°It¡¯s some trouble.¡± ¡°Nope. None at all. Now are you going to tell me what happened, or do I need to brew up another truth serum?¡± (50) Pocket Worms Eli insisted that they pack up Mara¡¯s makeshift camp and get moving . His insistence naturally sparked an argument wherein Mara took up the mantle of prudence, which bade them move slowly for the sake of his recovery and Eli took the stance of stubborn refusal to acknowledge that there was anything from which he needed to recover. In the end he won, but not by the strength of his argument. He just played to her curiosity by withholding the story she desperately wanted. Once they were on their way¨CEli with Nick perched happily on his shoulders¨Che told a sanitized version of what had happened after they parted ways. It was an Order patrol he¡¯d sensed¨Can entire company, bound for Prosco that had managed to pick up their footprint. When she asked what he did to slow them down, he answered vaguely. Apparently he¡¯d set up on a hilltop and slimmed their numbers down with the bow, then used ¡°a little mass persuasion¡± to ¡°deal with them¡± when they split up to surround him. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could do mass persuasion,¡± Mara said, awe leaking into her tone despite her efforts to contain it. Even for strong innate users, mass persuasion wasn¡¯t a common skill. It was an intricate and complex way to use magic¨Ccrafting a single persuasive push that would nonetheless influence a broad swath of people with varying motivations and experiences. The sensory pull alone could be overwhelming if one lacked the skill and discipline to organize it into usable information. And turning that information around into a successful push required an absurd degree of both raw power and fine-tuned finesse. For all that her understanding of Eli had shifted, she still hadn¡¯t thought him the kind to practice esoteric magic. Mass persuasion was the realm of sorcerers, not soldiers. ¡°I didn¡¯t either,¡± Eli admitted, ducking to avoid a low branch that would¡¯ve knocked Nick off his shoulders. The touch of unmistakable excitement in his voice made him sound almost boyish. ¡°I¡¯ve practiced the sensory pull, but practicing the push was always too risky. I didn¡¯t think it would even work.¡± ¡°So what did you do?¡± she pressed. ¡°How did you get them to leave?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°What did you persuade them to do, then?¡± A heartbeat passed before he answered. ¡°Turn on each other.¡± Mara couldn¡¯t find her voice. She stole a glance, half expecting him to have suddenly grown three feet and started glowing or something. But he was still just Eli. Scruffy, dirty, ordinary Eli. ¡°You know that¡¯s¡­¡± A chill raced down her spine. ¡°Eli, how?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Honestly.¡± Their footsteps were all but silent, boots sinking into the thick, soft layer of rich soil and dead leaves. ¡°But as long as we¡¯re on the subject of impossible magical feats, how about you explain yours.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t done any impossible magical feats.¡± ¡°You hid yourself. I lost your footprint, but I also couldn¡¯t see you. You know as well as I do, it takes at least a shadowcaster and a persuasive user to lay diversionary wards, and you¡¯re neither.¡± ¡°Maybe it wasn¡¯t a diversion. Maybe you just weren¡¯t seeing straight.¡± ¡°I was seeing fine. Don¡¯t look at me like that, I was. I searched all around those trees, and I wasn¡¯t so far out of my head I¡¯d have missed you laying there out in the open.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t out in the open! I picked that shelter carefully, Eli.¡± ¡°That¡¯s distressing to hear, but beside the point. Regardless, you hid yourself somehow. With magic. Maybe you didn¡¯t mean to, but you did.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t even have innate magic.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a physik, though. You can channel.¡± ¡°Not particularly well. I was trained by my mother, and her practice is old and diluted, and she was always more about the plants than the ritual. My lessons with you are the most magical instruction I¡¯ve ever received outside of books. I barely even know enough to brew competently.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± he grunted thoughtfully, then tipped his head back to look at Nick. ¡°What do you think, buddy?¡± Nick grinned and leaned forward, hooking his hands under Eli¡¯s chin like a bulky bonnet. ¡°Mama did magic with the trees.¡± Eli¡¯s eyebrows shot up, and Mara felt her own expression mirror his. ¡°What do you mean, love?¡± she asked. ¡°Mama did magic,¡± Nick repeated, sitting up straight and stretching his hands up toward the canopy. ¡°We were trees.¡± Mara looked at Eli. Eli looked at Mara. ¡°You heard the man,¡± Eli said, reaching up to brace a hand against Nick¡¯s back as the boy began to sway in a vague approximation of a tree bending with the wind. ¡°Apparently you did magic and turned into trees.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to. I was just sleeping.¡± ¡°What were you dreaming about?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡± If only she could explain how odd that was. ¡°Nothing remarkable.¡± ¡°What were you doing before you went to sleep?¡± Mara struggled to remember. It felt like so long ago¨Cyesterday¡¯s dark, unforgiving woods a product of another age. Now that she thought of it, though¡­ ¡°I was thinking about the trees,¡± she said on a breath, looking to Eli. ¡°I thought about how safe they were. How enduring. Do you really think I actually¡­ did something?¡± He laughed. ¡°You definitely did something, Mara.¡± He didn¡¯t sound as shocked as she felt. In fact, the only thing she heard in his voice was amusement. ¡°I¡¯m just surprised this is the first time it¡¯s happened.¡± Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°You¡¯re obviously proficient at sensing, and you mastered resistance technique in a matter of weeks, when I expected you to just be grasping detection by the time we reached the Enclave. Clearly you¡¯ve got natural aptitude, so it¡¯s not surprising you¡¯ve started channeling. We can practice, but you¡¯ll need to find a proper teacher at the Enclave. I only know the basics.¡± Mara¡¯s brain had snagged on something. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± ¡°Tell you what?¡± ¡°That I was learning faster than you expected.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t tend take well to compliments. If I said something nice you¡¯d accuse me of coddling your feelings or something.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have¨C¡± He cut her off with a sharp look, and she rolled her eyes. ¡°Okay, I would¡¯ve. I would¡¯ve. I admit. But from now on, I promise not to give you trouble for saying nice things to me.¡± ¡°Wow.¡± He looked up at Nick. ¡°Did you hear that, Nick? I have permission to be nice to your mama.¡± Nick giggled and bounced a little on his seat, flashing Mara a grin bright enough to whither any rubifel growing nearby. ¡°Lili¡¯s always nice to you, Mama.¡± She crossed her eyes at him, and he giggled, and Eli changed the subject to inquire about their day without him. She and Nick took turns sharing the parts of their solo adventure that they each found most pertinent. Mara shared that they had gotten along fine and detailed the current state of their food stores. Nick declared that he had been very brave, that the forest was loud, and that Mara showed him too many mushrooms. He also produced a worm from his pocket that he¡¯d apparently found the day before and had been keeping to show Eli. He¡¯d helpfully provided the poor thing with a fistful of wet earth as well, and by that kindness and a minor miracle, the worm survived to be let free after Eli had properly admired it. As they walked and chatted, Mara discovered that the Smokestacks were significantly less intimidating with company. Or, rather, with company composed of more than her helpless two-year-old son whom she loved with every part of her body and soul, and whose continued survival was imperative not only to her own continued existence but to the integrity of the world through which she walked. Not that she didn¡¯t care about Eli. But there was a large gap between ¡®unexpectedly cherished friendship¡¯ and the kind of love so precious it wove itself into the foundations of the earth. They made good time, plunging deeper into the forest as they kept steadily north. At times, the tree grew too closely together for them to walk abreast, so they formed a rough single file, picking their way over twisted, twining roots that rose fully up out of the ground and plunged back down like a mass of sea serpents diving in and out of a leafy brown surf. As usual, they didn¡¯t talk much except to Nick, which Mara didn¡¯t really mind. She¡¯d gotten used to it over the past weeks¨Cthe little check-ins throughout the day and otherwise being left to her own world. She began a walking meditation, breathing in the energy of the forest and sending little bursts of her own into the ground with each footstep. With her breaths, she focused harder on what she was hearing and feeling than what she saw¡ªthe rustle and chirp of birds overhead, the damp shuffle of their footsteps, the thick air against her skin. And with each step, she felt more at home, more as if this path she walked was made for her, planned and set forth over centuries with the slow-winding roots and the incremental buildup of loamy soil over hard-packed earth. The trees no longer whispered secrets, but were content simply to be where they were and feel the tread of her feet over ground they had always known she would travel. Eli called an early stop that evening for supper, and they only walked another half hour after eating before looking for a place to spend the night. Mara picked their campsite in the lee of a massive tree that must once have fallen and then stubbornly kept growing. Its trunk protruded sideways from the earth before curving upward, a tangle of exposed roots arching through the air at its base before diving into the ground. Eli and Nick set up the tent, and Mara gathered firewood. When she returned, she left Eli to build the fire and prepared Nick for bed. She made sure to brush his teeth and change his socks and shirt¨Cand to check his pockets¨Cbefore tucking him in. He was half asleep by the time she pulled the blanket over him, hands tucked beneath his cheek and utterly at peace. When he fell asleep, Mara went to rejoin Eli, who sat beside a crackling fire, staring into the flames. ¡°No darknight fire?¡± she asked, sitting beside him. ¡°No need,¡± he said absently, tipping his head up to watch the smoke dissipate into the canopy. ¡°Even if someone had a mind to track us in here and found a way to get a sight line above the canopy, they wouldn¡¯t see the smoke with all the fog. It sits right above the treetops all night. I should¡¯ve told you that before I sent you in here.¡± He dropped his head and looked to her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, by the way.¡± Mara drew her knees up and propped her chin at them, hugging her legs to her chest. ¡°Sorry for what?¡± ¡°For sending you in here alone, and for failing to adequately prepare you. I should have anticipated something like this happening, and you asked outright for me to teach you more fieldcraft. I should¡¯ve¨C¡± ¡°Eli.¡± He poked needlessly at the fire. ¡°Yes, Mara?¡± ¡°Stop inventing things to feel guilty about. If you need something to do, go get some sleep. That rejuvenative is going to rebound if you don¡¯t take care of yourself for the next few days.¡± He cocked an eyebrow at her in silent challenge. ¡°Don¡¯t make that face at me,¡± she said, lifting her chin with a sharp shake of her head. ¡°You forfeited your right to mind yourself when you stumbled into my campsite with stage four burnout. Clearly you need assistance defining your limits.¡± ¡°How long do you plan to use that against me?¡± ¡°As long as I need to. Would you like help preparing your bed, or¨C¡± ¡°I need to finish with the water,¡± he said, gesturing at the pot he¡¯d set the boil and the flasks that still needed filling.¡± ¡°I think I can manage to boil the water. Would you like help preparing your¨C¡± ¡°We need to sleep in shifts. I¡¯m not worried about an ambush, but the fire needs to stay lit to keep the wildlife away.¡± ¡°Okay. Would you like help preparing¨C¡± He glared at her, the intensity of the expression offset by the firelight dancing languidly in his eyes. ¡°You will wake me for my shift at midnight.¡± ¡°I will.¡± She held his gaze, until he heaved a great, melodramatic sigh and set about his usual evening routine. By the time the water boiled, he lay atop his sleeping roll beside the fire, his back to both her and the flames. ¡°If you let me sleep through my shift, I¡¯ll put worms in your pockets tomorrow,¡± he grumbled to the woods once he¡¯d settled. Mara laughed, using a stick to lift the pot from the fire and set it away from the flames to cool. ¡°I shudder to think what other innocent creatures have been smothered to death in that child¡¯s pockets.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± he grunted, voice already heavy with sleep. ¡°Davy used to collect beetles. Every day. Pocketful of beetles. Mum finally lost her patience. Cut out his pockets over it.¡± It was hard to imagine Davy young enough to stuff his pockets full of treasured objects. It was equally hard to imagine his mother¨Cthe great matriarch of the rebellion¨Cexacting such a silly, ordinary punishment. Mara had built the Linharts into legend in her mind. Even Davy, outside the sacred humanity of their marriage, was more myth than mortal. Try as she might, she couldn¡¯t picture him with dirt on his face, stuffing hapless insects into his pockets. And that felt like as great a loss as any of it. ¡°What other mischief did he get into?¡± Slow, steady breathing answered her, and she sighed and set another stick on the fire before turning her attention to the forest. She¡¯d just have to ask again tomorrow. (51) Bleeding Out Mara woke with the iron tinge of blood in the back of her nose. The warm-on-sickly-cool of wet sheets, rapidly drying. The thickness of blood caked between her fingers, sticking them together, the taste of it a salty film on her tongue. ¡°Nick!¡± she gasped, rocketing upright and looking around for the threat, the injury, whatever had her waking with blood in all of her senses. Not Nick. Not even reality. Davy lay beside her beneath the gauzy drapes of the four-poster, fully dressed, body taut and trembling in a rictus of pain. The sheets beneath him were stained shiny crimson and rusty brown, small coagulating puddles forming where the fabric had bunched beneath his body. ¡°Davy!¡± Mara twisted around so she was on her knees at his side, sheets winding around her legs with the motion. ¡°Davy,¡± she gasped, her hands hovering over him¨Cbloody hands, the sensation thicker on her palms, beneath her fingers. Streaks of blood ran up her arms. She hadn¡¯t even touched him. ¡°Mara,¡± he gasped, breaking off on a weak cough. Blood spattered across her face. It ran over his cheek to form speckles on the pillow case. Pain-bright eyes met hers, wide and flaring wider with each gasp for breath. He was so scared. She saw it, she heard it. But mostly she felt it, the nauseous tightening around her own midsection, the lead-heavy weight of it in her own lungs, the rictus of it casting her spine in braided ropes of burning, freezing terror. ¡°Where are you hurt?¡± she asked, her own voice trembling as her hands finally obeyed her command and closed the distance between them. She grasped his shirt and tore it down the middle, revealing the blood-smeared but unbroken skin of his chest, which jerked with his rapid, panicked breaths. ¡°Davy, where are you hurt?¡± He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his head on the pillow, the sounds of his labored breaths deafening in the small room. She shrank into a corner of her own body, watching as an observer might while she frantically searched for the source of all the blood. She found nothing. No wound, no bruising. ¡°Davy, please,¡± she breathed, framing his face in her bloody hands and forcing him to look at her. The veins and muscles of his neck stood out starkly as he gasped for air, fresh blood bubbling from his mouth, oozing from his nose, trickling from his ears. ¡°Where are you hurt? Where does it hurt?¡± Of course he couldn¡¯t answer. From the back corner of her brain, she screamed at herself. Get help! This is beyond you! She sent a press of love through the palms of her hands and then scrambled off the bed, disentangling herself from the sheets. The floor sent shocks of cold up from the soles of her bare feet as she dashed to the door, the knob equally frigid against her sticky palm. She twisted and yanked, and the door didn¡¯t budge. She saw no lock. No keyhole. Just the knob. She twisted the other way and pulled with all her strength. Nothing. ¡°Hey!¡± Releasing the knob, she slammed the side of her fist against the wood, the impact a dull ache radiating out from a sharp, bone-deep pain. ¡°Unlock the door! We need help!¡± She raised her other hand and hammered on the door with both fists, panic lifting the pathetic, wobbling whimper of her voice into a hearty screech. ¡°Help! Let us out! We need help!¡± Nobody came. Spinning on the ball of her foot, she ran to the window, but it was locked as tight as the door. When she picked up the nearest heavy object¨Ca table clock cast in pewter¨Cand hurled it at the window, it bounced impotently off the glass and landed with a thud. ¡°No,¡± she heard herself choke out as an angry, disembodied fist closed around her throat. ¡°No.¡± She ran back to the bed and scrambled up onto it. Blood soaked into the fabric of her nightgown where it covered her knees. The sheets were completely saturated, and the smell choked her, filling her lungs in place of air. ¡°No, Davy,¡± she whimpered, cradling his face in her hands. He still breathed. Somehow. And in a distant, unimportant pocket of her mind she knew that he shouldn¡¯t be. Even a man as large as Davy didn¡¯t have so much blood in him to lose. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, bending over him, pressing her forehead to his. The gurgle of his breath occupied every corner of her awareness. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. All the books she¡¯d read, the potions she¡¯d brewed, the people she¡¯d helped, and she couldn¡¯t fix this. She was a physik, not a healer. Eli. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said, pressing a kiss to Davy¡¯s forehead. ¡°We¡¯ll fix it. We¡¯ll fix it, my love.¡± But when she sat back and pulled in a breath to yell for Eli, her jaw locked tight, lips pressed together as if sewn. She tried, nonetheless. Eli! Eli! We need help! Davy needs help! Eli! But the words seemed to leave her lungs and build up in her head, swelling it until she felt it might pop. Eli! Help! ¡°Mara!¡± A hand shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes, unsure when she shut them, and found Eli¡¯s face hovering over her, half in shadows, half in flickering firelight. His eyes were wide, brow furrowed. ¡°Are you¨C¡± ¡°Davy,¡± she gasped, rolling her head to the side and seeing only the glow of firelight on dark leaves and the muddled greenish black of the forest beyond. She sat up, and Eli¨Con his knees beside her¨Cshifted back on his heels. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. Her lips tingled, and she raised a hand and pressed her fingertips to them, then to her jaw. ¡°Bad dream?¡± he asked. She nodded, mute, and continued to rub her jaw, staring with an unfocused gaze at the center of his chest. For some reason¨Cperhaps the terrible circumstances of the dream, perhaps the security of the darkness¨Cshe found herself doing the unthinkable. ¡°Not just tonight,¡± she confessed, bringing her eyes into focus and looking up in search of his eyes. Warm, quiet eyes. She¡¯d have felt better, in that terrible dream, just having him look at her like he was right now¨Clike he understood that nothing was okay, but he¡¯d do whatever she asked to make it better. ¡°I have these dreams. They¡¯re¡­. I don¡¯t know what to do. They¡¯re¨C¡± She broke off, swallowing a wave of nausea. ¡°Eli, I don¡¯t know what to do.¡± ¡°Well,¡± he said, in a voice like one might use to soothe a frightened animal. Soft. Low. Unthreatening. ¡°Right now, your options are to lay down and go back to sleep or come sit by the fire. What sounds better?¡± She looked down at Nick, still sleeping at her side, and Eli assuaged her worries before she could voice them. ¡°You weren¡¯t making much noise, not thrashing or anything. He hasn¡¯t stirred.¡± She nodded. Davy used to have nightmares, on occasion. She¡¯d wake to him tense beside her, helpless cries caught in the back of his throat, face wrinkled and pinched with distress. But he¡¯d never flailed about, never opened his mouth to scream. ¡°Can I come sit with you?¡± she asked. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll make some tea.¡± She nodded again. If she opened her mouth she would cry. Eli moved away, back toward the fire, and began the familiar rhythm of boiling water, preparing the tea leaves, adding a few extra sticks to the fire so that it flared high and bright. Mara continued to sit on her sleeping roll, Nick¡¯s body a glancing warmth against her hip. She reached a shaking hand inside her pocket and pulled out the watch, flipping open the cover. Just after four. Well on the way to morning. Shivering, she unearthed herself from her blanket and fumbled her boots on, covering Nick back up and leaving him to sleep. She went stiffly to the fire and sat on the ground beside it, legs crossed, shoulders hunched. She sat too close, the heat drawing her skin tight across her face, but she didn¡¯t move, and Eli didn¡¯t say anything. She held out her hands and watched the fine tremor of her fingers against the backdrop of the dancing flames. Eli moved about in her periphery, but she didn¡¯t pay him much attention, her mind caught in a hazy cycle of blood and helpless fear. What did it mean? Why, after so many nights of peace, had Davy come to her in such distress? Would it happen again? Was this how the dreams ended? How he left her? Bleeding and frightened and¨C ¡°Mara.¡± She started and looked up. Eli stood at her side, a blanket hooked over his finger. The fabric brushed her shoulder as he nudged it toward her. ¡°You¡¯re shivering.¡± She didn¡¯t feel cold, but she accepted the blanket and draped it over her shoulders, wool scratching at the back of her neck and the underside of her jaw. It helped, though, and she tugged it tighter around herself, clenching the bunched fabric in her hands and pulling until she was enveloped in taut, restrictive warmth. Time passed. Though she didn¡¯t feel the minutes tick by, she knew it must have been five, maybe ten, because when Eli returned he did so with a steaming mug of tea. She accepted it and cradled it in her hands, balanced atop her crossed ankles. She stared down into the liquid, the whorls of steam glowing yellow with the firelight. A log broke in the fire, collapsing with a shower of sparks, and she startled, scalding liquid splashing over the backs of her fingers. When Eli had first arrived at her townhouse and told her Davy was gone, she¡¯d thought she was in shock because of the warm calm that came over her. It had, of course, been his magic, and now she realized that she should have known better. Shock was not a warm calm but a cold one. A detached dissociation from the world and from oneself. She shivered, but she didn¡¯t feel the chill. She scalded her fingers with the tea, but the sensation lost its way somewhere between the part of her mind that felt it and the part that cared. Every time she blinked, Davy¡¯s face filled her vision, blood running in thick tracks over his cheeks, staining his teeth. But she felt nothing. Nothing. Eli sat beside her, close but not too close¨Cwithin arm¡¯s reach but not touching. He held a second mug of tea in his hands. He didn¡¯t speak. His words were in the tea, the blanket, the careful distance, the patient silence. ¡°I¡¯ve been having these dreams,¡± she finally said with her eyes fixed to the glowing white embers seething and popping beneath the fire. She didn¡¯t tell him for any particular reason, except that she knew, in the deepest part of her soul, that she could. ¡°Every night, since Loftland, I¡¯ve been dreaming of Davy.¡± (52) Unlocked Doors She ought to feel something in the midst of this confession. Something other than dull prickles on the back of her neck and a vague, steady headache between her eyebrows. ¡°They¡¯re not like regular dreams,¡± she went on. ¡°I¡¯ve had vivid dreams before, and these are different. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m falling asleep and waking up, it¡¯s like I¡¯m walking between one room and the next.¡± She looked up to gauge Eli¡¯s response, but he only dipped his chin in a shallow nod of encouragement. ¡°They feel so real. Almost always, I wake up in the same room, and I could tell you every detail about it. That¡¯s how real it is. It¡¯s a bedroom with a four-poster bed, with drapes with little flowers embroidered on the fabric. There¡¯s a window seat, and the window looks out, down a steep mountain slope onto a blue river. It¡¯s always the same. There¡¯s always a prezleret tree just outside the window, and I¡¯ve never even seen a prezleret except in drawings.¡± As she spoke, her voice grew more fervent, rushing out of her like it had been under pressure and needed to escape. ¡°I know the titles of all the books on the shelves, I know the paintings on the walls, I know the way the sheets feel against my skin. The room is real, and so is Davy. He¡¯s always there with me, and it¡¯s him. I swear, it¡¯s him. On my life, to the Depths and back, I swear it¡¯s him. Not a memory. Not a dream. It¡¯s Davy.¡± She no longer felt numb. She felt frantic. ¡°He¡¯s real. I don¡¯t know how, but he¡¯s real. You have to believe me,¡± she finished, her voice cracking unexpectedly. When she finally dared to look at Eli, she found him staring deeply into his cup. He twisted it one full rotation in his hands, and when he raised his head his eyes were somber and serious, his gaze taking the pressure from her before he even opened his mouth to speak. ¡°I believe you.¡± Mara dropped her gaze back to her own mug and blinked away a burning haze of tears. His gentle acceptance hurt. Her gratitude for it hurt. With Eli, there was always pain, as if he was handing his soul over to her in bloody chunks with each kindness, and all she could possibly do was to rip loose a commensurate chunk of her own to offer in exchange. Perhaps in the beginning she had been able to take him lightly, but that time had long since passed. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, clutching the blanket. ¡°You know it¡¯s no trouble, Mara.¡± He placed another log on the fire, moving things around so the flames flared bright and hot. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me, but I¡¯m assuming tonight was different? That they¡¯re not typically nightmares?¡± ¡°No, they¡¯re not.¡± Sipping her tea, she shifted back a little from the crackling heat of the fire. ¡°Most of the dreams are quiet. Uneventful. There¡¯s all these unspoken rules, where I can¡¯t seem to ask him meaningful questions, and we can¡¯t talk about the fact that he¡¯s¡­ that he¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°So, light conversation only?¡± Sniffing, she nodded. ¡°Yeah. Yes. For the most part. There¡¯s been some exceptions.¡± She decided to omit that first night in Cinder. She didn¡¯t know how to explain Davy¡¯s jealousy to the man of whom he was jealous without fumbling. So she skipped forward to the first night on the plains¨Cthe dream where Davy tried to leave. And then to the night where it seemed like he didn¡¯t truly know her anymore. And finally to the bloody nightmare. ¡°He was just bleeding,¡± she explained, setting her empty cup aside and hugging the blanket around her as she stared into the flames. ¡°I couldn¡¯t even find a source. There was so much blood, but no wound. I didn¡¯t know what to do. I tried to go for help, but the doors were locked. I tried to break the window, but I couldn¡¯t. I yelled but nobody came.¡± Technically, she reminded herself, someone had come. The exact person she¡¯d been calling for, no less. ¡°What do you think it means?¡± she asked, looking up to find Eli staring at the flames as well, his own empty cup dangling from a curled finger. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. You¡¯ve had these dreams every night?¡± She nodded. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°No exceptions?¡± ¡°No.¡± She straightened a little. ¡°Actually, no, that¡¯s not true. Last night, our first night in the Smokestacks, I don¡¯t think I dreamt of anything.¡± Now that she thought of it, it was odd. She¡¯d chalked it up to exhaustion, but she¡¯d been more exhausted in the past and still visited Davy. ¡°Do you think it was because I was channeling?¡± He nodded slowly. ¡°Maybe.¡± Beyond the circle of their shared confidence and the crackle of the fire, the forest was dark and quiet¨Cnot unusual for this time of morning, when the nocturnal creatures were all tucking themselves in to sleep and the diurnal creatures hadn¡¯t yet roused themselves to their day¡¯s work. She was grateful. She didn¡¯t think she could confess her fears and secrets anywhere else but in such a void. ¡°What about¡­ I know you don¡¯t know, but do you think last night was¡­ Do you think he¡¯ll¡­¡± Her throat closed against the question, and the words piled up behind a barrier of fear and despair. She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and cocooning her entire body in the blanket. The smoke from the fire shifted toward her with her movement, and she settled her chin on the divot between her knees and closed her eyes until it moved away. When it finally passed, time had carved out a notch in the blockage in her throat and the words trickled out in a tentative murmur. ¡°I¡¯ve always known how it ends. I know I can¡¯t keep him forever. I just thought¡­ I don¡¯t know. I thought he was seeing me through to the Enclave, or maybe just until the grief wasn¡¯t big enough to bury me, or just something. I thought it would end at some point that made sense. I knew it was coming, but I thought it would arrive when I could bear it. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do if last night was it. What if I never see him again? What if it¡¯s just over?¡± She shuddered, the cold a living thing within her. In her periphery, Eli climbed to his feet, and a fleeting hope passed over her¨Cthat he was standing so he could come closer. That he would sit and wrap her in his arms. She was coming apart into pieces and she didn¡¯t trust the blanket to hold her together, but she trusted Eli. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. He stood for a heartbeat beside her, unmoving. Then, ¡°We need more firewood. I¡¯ll be back in five minutes.¡± She couldn¡¯t blame him for wanting some distance. Though he¡¯d tolerated her emotional upheavals in the past, this one was different. She was inside out and bleeding her grief and need into the earth beneath her¨Ca messy, pitiful disaster. She couldn¡¯t blame him. She didn¡¯t blame him. But it still hurt. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, forcing herself to look up and offer him a tight smile. He frowned down at her, his face warmed by the light of the fire. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back, Mara. We¡¯re not done talking.¡± ¡°We can be,¡± she said, dropping her gaze from his concerned frown and the weight that accompanied it. ¡°We¡¯re not. Put a fresh pot on while I¡¯m gone, okay?¡± He left, melting into the darkness, and she disentangled herself from the blanket and did as he asked, setting another pot on the fire to boil. When Eli returned, it had just begun to rattle. He set the firewood down and fed some to the flames before preparing two more cups of tea, all without speaking, without so much as looking at her. Mara had managed to cram her jumbled feelings back into the overstuffed closet from which they¡¯d tumbled, though the hinges were straining and she wasn¡¯t confident they would hold against the pressure. If she sat very still and didn¡¯t think too hard, she might just manage not to cry. When the tea was brewed, the fire prodded into a joyful, crackling dance, Eil sat beside her once again and they both studied the flames and cradled their cups between their hands. As if disturbed by all their movement, the forest had begun to rustle to life. Something skittered along the branch of a tree to their left. A few early birds chirped a modest greeting to the day. Finally, Eli offered his own voice to the quiet morning song. ¡°I don¡¯t think last night was the end.¡± So much for not crying. Mara tucked her chin to hide her face. ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just think you¡¯re right. He¡¯s seeing you through, maybe to the Enclave, maybe to some other landmark. But I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll let go until you¡¯re ready.¡± She perked up at his choice of words. ¡°What do you mean? You think he¡¯s controlling this? You know what¡¯s happening?¡± He sighed and grimaced, tipping his head to the side in unspoken concession to the limits of his knowledge. ¡°Davy¡¯s persuasion was powerful. More powerful than mine, and more practiced. He knew the way into a person¡¯s mind, and persuasion is exponentially more effective on those the user truly knows. Familiarity and emotional intimacy open doors to the spaces in which persuasive magic is most potent. They expand the limits of what¡¯s possible.¡± ¡°So you think it¡¯s just persuasion?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s just anything. But it makes some sense that when he died, knowing that you were still in danger, he¡¯d have used what doors he could find to,¡± he waved a hand, eyes unfocused, ¡°slip inside, I suppose. Hitch a ride. Take care of you until you¡¯re safe.¡± Though the thought should have given her comfort, it sent a powerful shiver down her spine. ¡°Do you think he¡¯s here? Now?¡± she asked, feeling suddenly as if she stood inside a well-lit room, staring out into the night, her own reflection in the glass hiding whatever eyes might be watching from the darkness. She loved Davy, trusted him, missed him, but that didn¡¯t mean she wanted him watching through her eyes, riffling through the contents of her mind, seeing her when she couldn¡¯t see him. ¡°Do you think he¡¯s in my head?¡± She swallowed a surge of nauseous fear. ¡°Is he possessing me?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°No?¡± ¡°No.¡± He shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ve been practicing your sensing and your resistance technique. Have you ever felt his presence, anytime other than when you¡¯re dreaming?¡± ¡°No,¡± she admitted, ¡°but that doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s not there.¡± Depths, what if he was in her head, watching her suffer, watching her miss him and hate him for making her miss him? What if he felt the little bubbles of hot resentment forming in the cauldron of her grief? What if he had to watch through her eyes as his son came to worship another man more than he had ever worshipped Davy? ¡°Give yourself more credit, Mara,¡± Eli said, interrupting her mental tumble into guilty dread. ¡°Persuasive magic is subtle, but it¡¯s not undetectable, and persuasive possession would be impossible to ignore.¡± He looked down, swirling the tea in his cup before going on, his voice quieter but more firm. ¡°If he was in your head, you¡¯d know.¡± ¡°Then what about the dreams?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Think of that like a seed. It lies dormant in your mind during the day, and when you let your guard down in sleep it flourishes, feeding off the free magic of your dreams. Then, when you wake up, it retreats back into a seed. In some sense, I suppose it¡¯s possession, but he¡¯s only possessing your dreams. Not your waking moments.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± She trusted Eli¡¯s honesty in this, but did she trust his judgment? If Davy wasn¡¯t watching through her eyes, how did he know to be jealous back in Cinder? Then again, if he was watching through her eyes, why was he jealous at all? Shouldn¡¯t he have known that she had, at the time, wished fervently and constantly and cruelly that Eli was the man who was dead and Davy the one protecting her? Shouldn¡¯t that have allayed his jealousy? Mara rubbed her forehead, where the dull ache had begun to spread. ¡°How do you even know all this?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who can read, Mara,¡± Eli grumbled over the rim of his cup, taking a sip before he went on. ¡°And yes, I¡¯m sure. If he was there in your waking moments, you would know. And you wouldn¡¯t be a helpless victim of it. You¡¯d be able to box him in with your resistance technique.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you just tell me he was more powerful than you?¡± ¡°He was.¡± In life went unspoken, but she heard it clearly, and sudden guilt melted through her in a cold, sick wave. In all of this, she had somehow managed to forget that Davy was dead. His body was rotting somewhere, or reduced to ash, and still he lingered. Not by some divine providence as she had suspected, but by the sheer strength of his will and his love. He¡¯d reduced himself to a seed inside her mind so he could comfort her in her dreams, and her reflexive reaction had been not gratitude but fear? ¡°And you really don¡¯t think last night was the end?¡± she managed. Her voice was small. Pleading. ¡°No.¡± ¡°What was it, then? If it¡¯s Davy doing this, why would he do that?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. This is ancient magic we¡¯re talking about. There¡¯s record of the theory behind it, but if there was ever a practical handbook it¡¯s been lost to time. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say that he can¡¯t control the content of the dreams any more than you can. They¡¯re just a product of your fears and hopes, and of his.¡± ¡°He can¡¯t control the content, but you think he can control when they end?¡± ¡°No.¡± Eli leaned forward, placing another stick on the fire. She watched the moss on its surface shrivel and flare bright, fading to a dark spot of nothing before he spoke again. ¡°I think you can.¡± (53) The Polobath Grove Despite Eli¡¯s confidence, Mara spent the remainder of the day lost in her own head, fretting and wondering and dreading what awaited her in her dreams that night. But when she went to sleep, she woke in the bedroom, to Davy whole and well, sitting in the window seat with a book propped on his knees and his gaze turned out the window. She was too grateful, too relieved to initiate any hard conversations. And besides, what was the point when she knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to answer any of her questions? Instead she merely went to him and climbed into his lap, and they sat together and watched little songbirds flit about in the branches of the prezleret tree. When she woke the next morning, the sun was already up, weak tendrils snaking through little breaks in the leaves. Nick was up as well, climbing a tree on the far side of the fire while Eli hovered beneath him. At the sight of her, Nick scrambled down out of the tree and ran to hug her, Eli following behind, more slowly. ¡°Sleep well?¡± he asked, his serious gaze adding weight to the innocuous question. ¡°Really well,¡± she answered. With the simple exchange, the turbulence of the past several days and the intensity of their mutual concern for each other seemed to fade back into the usual distant rhythm. Focus returned to Nick and to the simple facts of survival. For two days, they walked and entertained Nick. They made camp and broke it. Found food and ate it. Boiled water and drank it. Eli wandered off into the woods to hunt. Mara wandered off into her mind to practice her sensing. Perhaps it was the richness of the forest, perhaps Eli was right and she did have some skill, but every time she practiced it got a little easier to tune herself into the language of the woods. Easy enough that she got bored with simple sensing exercises and started practicing some of the channeling drills Eli had given her. In respectfully small drabs, she began reaching for morsels of the Smokestacks¡¯ magic. The trees were easiest, their energy so old and plentiful it ran like a storm-swollen river beneath her feet. The hardest part with the trees wasn¡¯t channeling their energy¨Cletting herself get swept away in the current¨Cbut breaking free. The first time she tried it, she stopped midstride, anchored to the earth as if she herself had grown roots. Perhaps she¡¯d have stood there forever if not for Eli shaking her hard by the shoulders and jolting her back to her senses. After that, she stuck to smaller, weaker streams of magic. The squirrels¡¯ manic zest, the mushrooms¡¯ quiet industry, the birds¡¯ constant yearning for flight and song. The analogy Eli had recommended she use was spinning wool¨Cgrabbing just enough of the magic to twist into a short length of yarn and then snipping it off from the source so as not to take too much. It required intense concentration, but within a couple days she was at least able to reach out and pinch up a tuft of the energy. Spinning it was a long way off. Late on the morning of the third day, Mara walked beside Eli. They were passing through a polobath grove, a species known for its dual root systems¨Cone that plunged deep in search of water, and another that snaked along the surface like a net. The grove was a mess to navigate, the roots a persistent ankle-twisting hazard, but Mara was delighted nonetheless. Polobath was one of only three known species that shared a single root system. Though the trees rose up from the ground as individuals, the tangle of roots along the surface were a shared network. Perhaps it was fate that they were passing through the polobath grove. Perhaps it was just luck. Perhaps it was fate that Nick was occupied picking his way through the roots and Eli was pensive and Mara was bored enough to practice a little sensing as they walked. Perhaps it was just luck. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Either way, fate or luck, the instant she tuned into the hum of the grove, she knew something was wrong and stopped in her tracks as prickles rose up on her arms and the back of her neck. ¡°Nick, love, come here a second.¡± When she crouched and held out her arms, her son turned and toddled obediently into them. ¡°What is it?¡± Eli asked, stopping by her right shoulder as she stood, Nick clasped to her. ¡°I feel something.¡± He went still, but after a few breaths merely shook his head. ¡°I haven¡¯t got anything. What¡¯s it feel like?¡± It felt like jagged, dirty fingernails, dragged up the bare skin over her spine. But she didn¡¯t want to frighten Nick, so she caught Eli¡¯s eye over her son¡¯s head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Something different,¡± she said with her mouth. Something bad, she said with her eyes. Again, Eli went still. Again, she waited as he listened. Again, he shook his head, voice a hum. ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s not human.¡± ¡°You feel it?¡± ¡°No. And if it was human, I would.¡± He turned a slow circle, abandoning magical senses for the mundane. The forest was so close, Mara thought it was a pointless effort. Whether this thing was ahead of them or behind, they wouldn¡¯t see it until it was ten feet from them. They wouldn¡¯t hear it at all, so loud was the late afternoon chatter of insects and birds and busy scurrying. Eli finished his circle, taking her gently by the elbow and side-stepping to bring them next to the nearest tree. Its squat base spread out a web of gnarled roots that tried to trip her as he placed her against the trunk and turned his back. ¡°I¡¯ll keep watch. Go deeper. See what else you can sense.¡± Mara pressed her own back to the tree trunk, cradling Nick¡¯s head against her chest and closing her eyes. Now that she knew she could do it, now that she had practiced, it was second nature, sending her mind backward through the bark, into the heart of the tree, and letting the current sweep her up. She sank her roots deep and spread them wide, ignoring her bounty of stretching branches and dancing leaves for the dark, telling soil beneath. She could feel for ages, the web of polobath roots an instant connection to acres of woods. At the edges of the grove, the tapered ends of her tiniest roots twined ringlet-like around those of another¨Ca rubifel vine. And another, a dying sapling. Another. Again and again, more times over than her mind could comprehend, like the individual strands of Davy¡¯s hair, feathering against her fingers as she combed it. Like individual voices in a choir. A sensation of a thousand sensations. And from each of those connections, all of the connections of the other, again and again, until the entire forest was draped across her mind like a tangle of moss. And somewhere in that tangle, chillingly nearby to the locus of her sensing, something stank. Splotches of salty, bile-yellow ache spread in shallow pools just beneath the earth where it walked. Leaves wilted as they brushed against soft skin. Mara slammed back into her body, so hard she knocked the back of her head against the tree. As a girl, her favorite books had always been the myths. She¡¯d consumed those stories like water, gulping down heroic tales of epic battles and slain monsters. She lived in those stories, but even as a child she¡¯d known they were just that¨Cstories. Fabrications. There was a difference between legendary creatures and creatures of legend, between fantastic truth and fantasy. Perhaps she should have paid more attention to the message of the Rho deer¨Csome fantasies inhabited flesh and walked the earth. She¡¯d read this story. Knew this creature of legend¨Ca being of pure want, her form as beautiful as the rising sun, her voice like fresh water on a parched tongue. A lure to life in all its forms, she walked a path of yearning and destruction, her every footstep bending the very fabric of existence so that all that lived rushed down and inward toward the gaping maw of her endless hunger and laid itself, prostrate, at her feet. And there it died¨Ca silent, wilted band of rotting flesh and salted earth sloughing off the wake of her trail like the discarded skin of a molting snake. ¡°Eli,¡± Mara breathed, her heart already fluttering with excitement, her soul heavy with dread. His head shifted, a slight rotation to give her his ear without losing sight of the forest before him. Not that it mattered. Even he couldn¡¯t defend them from this. ¡°It¡¯s a Songbird.¡± (54) Listen Eli was always calm. Of all the many things she¡¯d come to appreciate about him, it ranked as one of her favorites. He was calm when she was sad, he was calm when she was frightened, he was calm when she was cranky. Admittedly, the last sometimes annoyed her, but that was beside the point. The point, of course, being that Eli was always calm. A point Eli seemed to have forgotten when he turned full around at her announcement and gave the forest his back, nostrils flaring, eyes wide. ¡°Are you sure?¡± She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. ¡°It¡¯s too late.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not too late,¡± he said, but the words came out as if fired from a loosely-strung bow, clattering feebly to the ground between them. ¡°It¡¯s too late,¡± she repeated, squeezing Nick tighter. Already, she could feel the Songbird¡¯s pull¨Cnot yet a call to run towards, but a tether, keeping her from running away. ¡°Can you run?¡± She saw him try. Saw the waver in his posture as he failed. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Depths,¡± she gasped, bending her head and pressing her lips to Nick¡¯s temple. She kept her face there, breathing in the scent of his hair. He still smelled like a baby. Like the early days, nursing him, holding him, loving him, weeping. He smelled of fierce, wrenching adoration. Of exhaustion and pain. Of animal possession. In the distance, she picked up the early notes of the Songbird¡¯s melody, the suggestion of music drifting through the branches. The forest roared its approval, the birds shrieking their joy, the trees shivering in anticipation. They were all going to die. The birds, the trees, Mara, Eli. Nick. It was too late to run. In minutes, the music would be clear, and they would follow the melody to the Depths. ¡°Nicky,¡± she said, her eyes on Eli¡¯s. His calm had returned while she was distracted, the brown of his eyes a deep, fathomless warmth. ¡°Time to take a nap, love. Would you like me to sing you a little song?¡± Nick nodded against her chest, the tickle of his hair beneath her chin as vital a part of her as the heart flailing in her chest. The sensation ached, bringing hot tears to her eyes. ¡°I love you so, Nick,¡± she whispered, smoothing her hand over the back of his head. ¡°Have a good, sweet sleep, okay? I¡¯ll wake you in a little bit.¡± And then, before her voice could betray her anguish, she began to hum. The song caught in her throat only once, when Eli dipped his head and reached out to rest a hand on Nick¡¯s shoulder. Nick¡¯s breath slowed and deepened, his arms going limp where they hung over her shoulders. She knew without asking that this sleep was deeper than anything Eli had put him in before. Mercifully deep. Mara stopped humming. ¡°Eli,¡± she whimpered, cleaving to the calm in his eyes like a drowning woman. ¡°She¡¯s coming.¡± ¡°I know,¡± he murmured. Another strain of notes warbled through the trees, and she saw the same shudder pass through his body as rattled her own bones. He closed his eyes, cutting her off from the calm. But when he opened them, there it was again, and she sank her fingers into it and clung. ¡°Can you channel the trees? Like you did the other night?¡± ¡°No.¡± She could barely concentrate on this conversation. The voice was so soft, so lovely, singing her into the sweetest sweep. ¡°I can put you under too.¡± ¡°No.¡± She didn¡¯t want to miss it. If she had to die, she wouldn¡¯t sleep her way to a silent end. She¡¯d die with the music in her ears. ¡°Mara, focus. You can use your resistance technique.¡± ¡°No.¡± She barely heard him, her thoughts crumbling into grains of sand ¡°Mara.¡± She watched Eli¡¯s mouth move with the shape of her name, a little behind the sound. Like time had come unstuck, and the world she heard was moving forward faster than the one she saw. It made her dizzy. She staggered forward a step to catch her balance, knocking into Eli. His hands came up to grip her shoulders. ¡°Mara, stop.¡± This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it She staggered forward another step. She couldn¡¯t bear to stand still. She needed to walk, to dance. Such beautiful music yearned for a body to move with its notes. ¡°Mara, listen. Listen to me.¡± Her eyes snapped to Eli¡¯s as his voice rang through her head like the peal of a bell. ¡°Listen to me,¡± he said again, and she did. She listened as the words, drawn forward on strained cords of desperation and effort, echoed through her. ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± she said, her own voice a flat, unmusical thing amidst the clamor. ¡°Sit down. Don¡¯t move.¡± With the languid clumsiness of the severely intoxicated, she folded her body into a sitting position. The roots of the tree made a lumpy, uncomfortable seat, but Nick lay safely cradled between her upraised knees and her chest. She stared at Eli¡¯s legs as he stood over her, arms hanging at his sides. She waited for him to join her. He needed to join her. He needed to sit down. To not move. It was important. It was imperative. Though she didn¡¯t know why. She watched his weight shift on his feet. He wasn¡¯t sitting. He was moving. Turning. She reached out, hooking stiff fingers over the top of his boot, clinging to the last wisps of his command. ¡°Sit down,¡± she bit out, her own conviction an echo of his. He dropped heavily to his knees, right where he was standing, his shoulder pressed against her legs. ¡°Tell me to listen to you,¡± she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut. She couldn¡¯t remember why. She couldn¡¯t remember anything. ¡°Listen to me,¡± he said, but the words had no music to them. They couldn¡¯t compete with the sweet, melancholy lure that lingered at the edges of her consciousness. ¡°Eli.¡± She reached out again, her fingers this time finding the sleeve of his shirt. She pulled, like a spoiled child. ¡°Eli, listen. Tell me to listen.¡± A pause. Mara heard the Songbird now, the voice as clear as spring water, dancing over piled stone. Bliss and terror twined like writhing lovers in her chest. ¡°Listen to me.¡± Eli. Finally. Her hand had fallen to the crook of his elbow, and she tightened her grip. ¡°Listen to me,¡± she whispered back. He nodded, and understanding passed between them finally¡ªa flicker of a plan, fumbled together in the haze of malicious magic drifting invariably closer. Mara lowered her face and breathed in the scent of Nick¡¯s hair, eyes screwed tightly shut. ¡°Listen to me,¡± Eli urged, looping his magic around her, distracting her from the Songbird¡¯s pull. ¡°Listen to me,¡± she demanded, closing the loop, restarting it. Back and forth. Again and again. Somehow, at some point, her hand found its way down his forearm, past his wrist, and she laced her fingers with his. Eli¡¯s voice rose and fell in her head like slow heartbeats, and at the bottom of each swell Mara listened to the music draw ever closer, approaching now distinctly from her right. She heard the mad scurry of clawed creatures across the ground around her, the flutter of dead leaves as insects rose up from little holes in the ground and swept in hordes across the earth. The whole forest raced joyfully towards doom, and her muscles tensed to join the stampede. To run, free and careless, into painless oblivion. Eli¡¯s hand tightened around hers. ¡°Listen to me.¡± His voice drowned out the cacophony, and she let out a sob of relief. She squeezed back. ¡°Listen to me.¡± With each rise and fall of their cycle, the Songbird grew closer, until Mara could feel her music through the earth itself, a vibration that found its way inside her and trembled in the deep parts of her being like the early shiver of a languid orgasm. ¡°Listen to me.¡± Eli¡¯s voice, closer now. ¡°Listen.¡± He smelled of sweat, his breath warm against her cheek. Their fingers were intertwined, their arms lifted so that he clasped her hand against his chest. She felt his heart hammering against the back of her hand. ¡°Listen to me,¡± she murmured, pulling him closer still. ¡°Listen.¡± The Songbird drew near enough that Mara could taste her¡ªdecadence and decay sweet on her tongue. She bit her lip until she tasted blood instead. She listened to Eli instead. She smelled the sweat of his fear instead, felt the warmth of his body instead. And in return, she offered him her own voice, her own scent, her own warmth. The entire forest raced toward the heart of the storm in swift rivers of desire¨Cscurrying, fluttering, straining. But Mara sat and she held onto Eli, drifting around and around in the safe, serene eddy where his strength met her stubbornness. A breeze caressed her skin, tickling the side of her face with loose tendrils of her own hair. She felt the Songbird¡¯s footsteps, the soft skin of her bare feet as she padded softly along, trailing destruction. The creature was so close, but Eli was closer. Some part of him had crawled beneath her skin and lingered there, weighting her down, holding her in this orbit of their joint creation. ¡°Listen to me,¡± he said, but he no longer needed to tell her. She couldn¡¯t have stopped if she tried. (55) Improbable, Impossible The first coherent thought Mara had when the Songbird passed was not that they had just¨Cimprobably, impossibly¨Csurvived a creature of terrible destructive power. Nor was her first thought a mental note about the absolute quiet of the woods around them. Nor a gasping gratitude to whatever deities were listening. Not even an inner complaint about her aching head. Her first thought when quiet finally descended was of Davy. Specifically, she hoped that Davy really was confined to her dreams, that he truly could not see life passing by through her eyes. Because if he could? If he could, he wouldn¡¯t like this. For all the uncertainty in her life, she was quite sure of that. Because the first thing she saw when the danger passed and she finally dared open her eyes and look around, was Eli. Eli, right there. Eli, kneeling at her side. Eli, fingers woven through hers, clasping her hand, pressing it to his chest with such force she could feel the drum of his heartbeat against the back of her hand. His other arm draped across the top of her pack behind her shoulders. The fabric of his sleeve tickling the back of her neck. His head bent close, not touching hers but near enough that strands of his hair tickled the clammy skin of her forehead. And she was also, for her part, right there. She was the one who¡¯d angled her body towards him, so that her face was inches from his and her knees were wedged against his side, caging Nick¡¯s sleeping body in a fortress of stubborn, fiercely protective flesh¨Chers and his. Face to face, backs to the world, their bodies Nick¡¯s only, their only protection against an engulfing danger. She was the one who had pulled him closer, off balance so that he had to brace an arm against her pack to keep from falling into her entirely. Of course, if Davy had been watching through her eyes up to that point, then he would understand the context. He¡¯d understand how they¡¯d come to be so close. How Eli had come to be right there in her space, and why she had done what she¡¯d done to occupy his. What he wouldn¡¯t understand is what she didn¡¯t understand herself. The actions¨Cinactions, rather¨Cof the present moment, as she blinked open her eyes and found herself still alive, the Songbird having passed, the moment of tension and danger behind her. This present moment when she found herself in the shelter of another man¡¯s arms, mingling her breath with his, squeezing his hand so tightly she could feel the lines of his palm intersecting with her own. Davy wouldn¡¯t like this moment, because she couldn¡¯t seem to leave it. She didn¡¯t want to leave it. She couldn¡¯t even blame the magic. Persuasion still reverberated between them, but already it had faded. Either from some intuitive understanding that the danger had passed, or simply because of their flagging reserves of energy. Whatever the cause, the current had ebbed. She could break free, if she wanted to. Instead, she breathed the air his body warmed and watched a single bead of sweat make a slow track down the bridge of his nose, watched it slope away to the right, swooping to chase the ridge of his cheekbone. She listened to the little huffs of air he exhaled through his nose. Listened to the low hum, deeper than her ear could capture, of his life as it raced along its path, a swift river cutting deep through the land it chose to travel. Listen to me. He hadn¡¯t spoken the words in some time, but they rang in her ears, the magic thick, tantalizing. She wanted to taste its source, salty sweat of effort on her tongue. No, Davy definitely wouldn¡¯t like this. For that reason alone, she tried to yank herself free of the magical current and found it held a little faster than she expected. The effort made her dizzy, like she¡¯d been spinning in circles and now wanted to stop, but the world just whirled faster beneath her clumsy feet. The direction of the current between them was an object of both their wills, but it was predominantly Eli¡¯s energy, the furnace of his body wheeling them around, propelling this frantic, swirling, dizzying¨C ¡°Eli,¡± she gasped, squeezing his hand until she met the resistance of his bones, and then squeezing harder. ¡°Eli.¡± His eyes flew open, inches from hers, and thirteen sluggish heartbeats throbbed in her ears as she waited. Waited, watching pink lines branch out in the whites of his eyes. Waited, as a new bead of sweat coiled through his right eyebrow and dropped heavily from the outer corner to race down the side of his face. Waited for him to realize what had happened, where they were, what they had somehow¡ªimprobably, impossibly¡ªmanaged to do. Listen to me. On the cusp of the fourteenth heartbeat, Eli blinked. The spell fell away, and it was as if that girl within her, spinning around with her hands clasped in his, had finally managed to stop. Vertigo assailed her, and instead of pulling away from Eli she found herself collapsing into him. Her forehead smacked his jaw and she heard his teeth meet with an audible crack. And still she didn¡¯t pull away. She lay with her forehead resting on his shoulder, like a woman so deep in her cups she couldn¡¯t hold her body upright, gulping for air, clammy and nauseous as the world rocked like a broken cradle beneath her. It took all the strength and command she possessed just to hang on to Nick. She didn¡¯t even think of Davy for those sickening moments, only of the waves of dizziness, the answering churn of her stomach, the bile burning the back of her throat. Eli shifted against her in a series of movements too fast for the slurry of her mind to assemble. All she knew was that he moved, his grip shifting, her own body a listless, clumsy thing too heavy to wield. At his more competent direction, she found herself leaning forward, sweat-damp hair combed back from her face and held away as she lost the battle with her insides and vomited a few coughing, bitter mouthfuls of bile into the hash of damp, rotting leaves. Then, just as briskly, she found herself manhandled back into an upright position, leaning back against her pack, head wobbling on her neck. She blinked, her fuzzy, splitting vision slow to come together into a coherent picture. Her ears worked alright, though. Well enough to discern that the blurry, double figure to her right was Eli, that he was now also hunched over, his back to her as he spilled his own guts with a wet splatter into the leaves. Well, at least it wasn¡¯t just her. She let her eyes drift shut when he finally went quiet. Cleared her throat and asked, shakily, ¡°You okay?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. She heard him clear his own throat, spit, and then the rustle of his clothing, the gentle jostle as he slumped down beside her, his pack nudging against hers. ¡°Are you?¡± She swallowed, wincing as her dry throat constricted around the residual burn. ¡°I asked first.¡± ¡°But you were sick first.¡± ¡°Why in deepest depths does that matter?¡± He sighed and the side of his hand nudged hers, and before she could pull back she felt the tingle of healing magic, little threads of concern racing purposefully through her veins to whisper polite, diagnostic inquiry to all the weary parts of her. After a moment, he moved his hand away. ¡°You¡¯re okay.¡± ¡°That¡¯s cheating,¡± she said limply. ¡°And I¡¯m not playing games with you. Are you okay or not?¡± ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± ¡°Do you need another rejuvenative?¡± ¡°Badly. And so do you.¡± ¡°But we¡¯re okay,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re okay.¡± She squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her arms around Nick, burying her face in his hair. They had survived. She hadn¡¯t yet looked at whatever twisted chaos the Songbird had left in her wake. The air was thick and sweet with rot, and deathly still, so quiet every word they spoke was muffled by the engulfing silence. All around them was death, but they had survived. Her son was still alive, and she was still alive to love him. ¡°Can you wake Nick up?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I should, just yet. We¡¯d better move. Can you stand?¡± Mara lifted her head and found it a little easier, at least, to blink her vision straight. The earth no longer swayed beneath her, either. She didn¡¯t feel so terrible. Just weak. ¡°I think so,¡± she said, pressing an absent kiss to Nick¡¯s temple. She heard Eli release a resigned, bracing breath before he moved, using the tree to push himself to his feet, slow and stiff as if he¡¯d been kneeling there beside her for hours. Maybe he had. When he reached down, she let him pull her to her feet as well. The world faded for a moment, but when it came back she was still upright, his hand on her upper arm, silver-gray sparkles dancing at the edges of her vision. When she was steady, he released her and they stumbled side-by-side toward the path of destruction that lay before them. It wasn¡¯t the way she imagined it would be¡ªthe trail of the Songbird¡¯s wake. It was narrow, for one, a band of shriveled foliage no wider than Mara¡¯s shoulders, pale, dry footprints trailing down the center. It seemed the creature actually had to touch a thing to kill it outright. But all along the edges of the trail¡­ Mara shifted until the length of her upper arm was pressed against Eli¡¯s. Thousands of animals lay strewn along the edges of the path. Small animals, mostly¡ªbirds, mice, squirrels¡ªtheir bodies whole but bloated already, somehow, putrescent rot spilling out from the sockets of their eyes, their gaping mouths. Larger animals lay here and there as well¡ªa deer to the right, belly burst from the force of its rapidly decomposing innards, swollen blue-black tongue resting at the edge of a pale footprint. The body of what appeared to be a jet black wolf lay some distance to the left. And over all, a thin carpet of lifeless insects, dark specks and splotches gathered in the fur of the dead animals and the curled remnants of the leaves. ¡°I don¡¯t want her between us and the river,¡± Eli said. ¡°I don¡¯t care how far south she is.¡± Mara nodded, understanding. The Songbird had been traveling north to south, and her path of destruction now lay between them and the distant guidepost of the river¨Ctheir ultimate destination. She didn¡¯t want that either. But that, of course, meant that they would have to traverse¡­ that. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s safe?¡± she asked, and in the periphery of her vision she saw him shake his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s safe?¡± Mara tried to feel, tried to listen, but her body and mind were both shaky and weak. She didn¡¯t think she could do a basic grounding exercise right now without falling into a faint. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. The pressure of his arm against hers disappeared as he leaned away and snapped a branch off a nearby tree¡ªthe foliage around them a bit dull but still alive. Before she could ask what his plan was, he tossed the branch into the center of the Songbird¡¯s trail. They both watched it, waiting, like she used to wait at the edges of the great summer storms. She¡¯d liked those storms when she was a girl. They made her feel cozy in the warm, dry sanctuary of her home. But the year she turned seven, one of those storms had ripped the roof from their house, and ever since then the winds tumbling down the slopes of the mountains had brought with them a twisting, anticipatory dread. She knew that same dread now, but the branch lay quiescent in the center of the Songbird¡¯s path, a grotesque green mockery of the death all around it. The leaves didn¡¯t wilt. Not after a few seconds, or even a minute. The Songbird¡¯s magic, it seemed, had gone with her. ¡°I¡¯ll go first,¡± Eli said, and before Mara could stop him stepped cautiously forward, avoiding the corpses as best he could. He reached the edges of the narrow band of pale earth, stepped over it in one large stride, and then picked his way to the far side until he reached corpse-less ground. He turned. Looked down at his hands, and then up at her. Shrugged. Barely ten strides stood between them. ¡°Do you feel¡­ cursed?¡± she asked, eyeing the path he¡¯d walked with acute distrust. ¡°Generally, yes. By this in particular? No.¡± Her gaze shot to his, and the smile that tugged at her lips almost hurt. ¡°Was that a joke?¡± He shrugged, the gesture a bit listless, smile weak but genuine. ¡°I think it¡¯s safe.¡± Gritting her teeth, she closed off all the parts of herself that were not a mother trying to carry her child to safety, and tiptoed mincingly through the field of carcasses. She managed not to step on any animal carcasses, but the dead insects were impossible to avoid, her boots crunching over hard shells and still wings. As Eli had, she stepped fully over the narrow strip of absolute destruction, and then proceeded with somewhat more confidence until she reached his side. ¡°Feel okay?¡± he asked. ¡°Not any worse than before,¡± she answered. ¡°Now what?¡± ¡°What time is it?¡± Passing Nick into his arms, she pulled the watch from her pocket and flipped it open, the effort requiring both hands, as she seemed to have left her manual dexterity on the far side of the crisis. ¡°Just after six,¡± she said, closing the watch. She¡¯d felt the Songbird coming just before their midday meal, and now it was pressing on dusk. They¡¯d lost half a day. ¡°Are you okay to walk?¡± Eli asked, with the wan intonation of a man who was not okay to walk. Mara didn¡¯t think she was either, but neither of them had much choice. They needed to get some distance and find somewhere to make camp, all before the arrival of the swift-approaching night. She turned, presenting him with her pack, and he wordlessly removed the physik¡¯s kit from the right outer pocket. He handed it to her, and she pulled out two blue-stoppered bottles, passing one to him and wedging the kit beneath her arm so she could pry the cork from the other. She tipped the potion down her throat, tongue immediately flaring with heat, lips tingling. She coughed and stoppered the empty bottle, pushing it back into its loop. Eli handed her the other, and she replaced that as well. The kit only had four rejuvenation tonics. They were down to one. ¡°When are you going to wake Nick?¡± Mara asked. Truthfully, she¡¯d rather her son sleep through the rest of the day and into the night. She didn¡¯t know if she could be a proper parent at the moment. But she was a proper enough parent in general to recognize that wasn¡¯t a very good reason to keep her son in magically induced slumber. ¡°Let¡¯s get away from all this first.¡± She nodded. Shifting Nick higher and supporting him with one arm, Eli pulled his compass from a pouch on his belt and flipped it open with his thumb, taking a heading that was¡ªMara guessed¡ªvaguely west and north. Away from the Songbird. Towards the Ripshaws. Towards safety. ¡°Ten minutes and then we¡¯ll take a break for food and water,¡± he said, nodding his head in the direction the compass pointed. ¡°You take the lead. North-northwest. Stop sooner if you need to.¡± With a bracing breath, Mara nodded and began walking, so tired it didn¡¯t even seem to matter anymore. All she could consider was the next step, and the next step wasn¡¯t so far. One step was easy. She could take one step all night. She could do it for days, all the way to the Enclave without stopping. Already, one step at a time, she had walked to the edge of the world she had once held as certain. What was one more? One more step toward that fuzzy horizon where impossible became improbable became a fresh new realm of certainty. She pulled out her compass, glanced at the face for her heading, and picked a distant landmark¨Ca tree with a twisted trunk¨Cto walk toward. One step at a time. (56) Negotiations Eli woke Nick at their first stop for water, and her son came to with a yawn, a stretch, and a smile that quickly turned to a confused frown as he looked around at the darkening woods. ¡°It¡¯s dinner time!¡± he observed, looking up at Mara, little brows knit together. ¡°It is,¡± Mara said, reaching out to pull him into her arms when Eli handed him over. She cuddled him close, nuzzling her cheek against his. ¡°You had a long nap!¡± If Nick sensed anything was amiss¡ªthat his abnormally long nap had coincided with a terrifying and cataclysmic Depths-defying experience¡ªhe gave no indication. As soon as they were off once more, and he was perched on Eli¡¯s shoulders, right returned swiftly to his world. He kept up a steady stream of chatter, regaling them with an indecipherable combination of babble and clear but contextless snippets of speech. Mara and Eli nodded and hummed and made vague exclamations whenever it seemed like he expected engagement. But otherwise, they simply walked, Mara in front with the compass, Eli behind with the chattering boy. They walked until dark began to seep up the trunks of the trees and ooze from between the branches. Then they stopped and made camp, eating a paltry meal of salted meat, hard cheese, and stale crackers. Nick fell asleep just after eating with his head on Mara¡¯s lap and his feet wedged beneath Eli¡¯s leg. ¡°I expected him to be up all night,¡± Mara mused, combing a lock of her son¡¯s dark hair behind his ear and studying the soft, cherished lines of his profile. ¡°He slept half the day.¡± ¡°Not proper sleep,¡± Eli said, grimacing as he placed his discarded jacket over the sleeping boy. ¡°I used a healing technique, not a persuasive one. I didn¡¯t harm him,¡± he promised, when she glanced up at him with alarm. ¡°It¡¯s just a different method. I can mimic real sleep with persuasion, but it takes continuous effort and I didn¡¯t want him waking if we¡­I didn¡¯t know what was going to happen. If we¨C¡± ¡°I understand,¡± she interrupted, and he fell silent. And in that silence, she felt his brewing contrition¨Cbubbling, acidic stuff that burned her own gut with echoes of shame and self recrimination. Odd, that she could sense it so acutely. Then again, given what had happened today, perhaps it wasn¡¯t odd at all. What she really couldn¡¯t wrap her head around was why he felt such potent shame. ¡°Mara, I¡¯m sorry.¡± She leaned back on her hands, studying his profile. ¡°For what?¡± ¡°For using persuasive magic on you. I swore to you I wouldn¡¯t.¡± Mara fought the reflexive smile that tightened her cheeks, pressing her lips together to hide it. ¡°Eli, tell me you¡¯re not serious.¡± He bowed his head, face dropping into shadows. ¡°I made you a promise.¡± ¡°Okay, well¡­ I¡¯m cancelling the promise. You made it to a version of me that didn¡¯t know you from the grocer, but things are different now and they have been for a while. I trust you, now.¡± He lifted his face and his eyes found hers. ¡°And I violated that trust.¡± ¡°In order to save our lives.¡± ¡°I should have asked you first.¡± Mara barked out a laugh that slashed like a knife blade through the softly chirping darkness of the forest. ¡°I was too far gone to answer. So were you, for that matter. You had no choice.¡± ¡°There¡¯s always a choice.¡± ¡°Okay, fine, there¡¯s always a choice. And I expect you to always choose the option that keeps my son alive. Preferably me, too. And yourself. Which you did.¡± ¡°Mara, I¡¯m being serious.¡± ¡°So am I.¡± Leaning her weight on one arm, she raised the other and swept her hand through the air. ¡°You¡¯re forgiven for your nonexistent breach of my trust. The price of my forgiveness is that you are no longer permitted to feel sorry.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°Ever.¡± He scowled, but his mouth twitched with a suppressed smirk. ¡°What if¨C¡± ¡°About anything.¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. He didn¡¯t make any further attempts to argue, and they faded back into mutual, exhausted silence. Mara would have thought her nerves would be drawn tighter after what they¡¯d just survived, but the reality turned out to be quite the opposite. They felt like overcooked noodles inside her. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been so tired,¡± she mumbled, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. He smiled wryly. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. I don¡¯t even know how to classify what you did today.¡± ¡°I think I do,¡± Mara said, grinning when his eyebrows shot up with unabashed interest. She so loved sharing knowledge, and she¡¯d come to appreciate how readily Eli received it¡ªthe way he¡¯d wander off with what she¡¯d told him and return hours or days later with questions and new discussion points, as if he¡¯d been chewing on it. ¡°Well?¡± he prompted. ¡°I have a collection of books from the sages of Ralin¡ªwell, had until someone burned my house down¡ª¡° ¡°I¡¯ve said I¡¯m sorry for that.¡± ¡°Less than a sentence in my story, and you¡¯re already interrupting and breaking my no-apologizing rule?¡± Finally, he smiled. The first real one she¡¯d seen since they¡¯d entered the Smokestacks. Maybe before. She knew it was genuine because it crinkled up the corners of his eyes and drew his brows together in an expression of bemused confusion. All of his genuine smiles had that little tinge of curiosity to them, like joy caught him off guard. ¡°Please,¡± he leaned back on his hands. ¡°Continue.¡± Lifting her chin, she did so. ¡°As I was saying, I have a collection of books written by the wise workers from the Sleepless Glades of southern Ralin. There¡¯s also references to it in journals from Polandria proper, and some ancient Provoncial texts. Really anywhere physiks were or currently are still allowed to prace, there¡¯s been subsects that focus on it. It¡¯s rare, but it¡¯s definitely real.¡± ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me what it is.¡± ¡°Oh. Yeah. Sorry. The Ralinian sages call it chaining. I don¡¯t know what the Polandrians call it. But basically, it¡¯s a form of channeling. But the energy being channeled is the magic of an innate user. Like I said, it¡¯s rare. It¡¯s not as if just any physik can channel just any innate magic. The innate user¡¯s natural barriers are too strong. It¡¯s meant to take years of practice just for one pair to get the hang of it.¡± It was also meant to require profound intimacy between the members of the chain, both physical and emotional. A few rare cases involved twin siblings. All the rest were lovers. But she was certainly not going to mention that. ¡°Years of practice or a few seconds of mortal terror,¡± Eli mused, blissfully unaware. ¡°But this is an established practice? Not just a myth?¡± ¡°Definitely. It¡¯s not common, by any means. But there¡¯s been whole manuals written about it.¡± ¡°Hm.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t suppose one of those manuals made it into your pack before I burned your house down, did it?¡± Her lips pressed themselves unbidden into a small smile. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose so, no.¡± With a dramatic sigh, he tipped his head toward her sleeping roll, already laid out and beckoning. ¡°You should get some rest. I¡¯ll take the first shift tonight.¡± She scowled. ¡°Every time I let you take the first shift, you let me sleep all night.¡± ¡°Oh no,¡± he drawled. ¡°You¡¯re onto me.¡± ¡°Eli.¡± ¡°Please, Mara. Forbidden apologies aside, it is meant to be my job to protect you and this is twice now you¡¯ve had to take the reins. Let me do you this kindness tonight. For my pride¡¯s sake, if nothing else.¡± Mara sighed. Truthfully, her sleeping roll was calling to her. Screaming, really. Pleading. Her eyelids sagged just at the prospect of slipping between the covers with Nick safe in her arms. ¡°What if we compromise? You can have the first shift, and you can even take more than your share, but you do still have to wake me before dawn. At least one hour before dawn. And you have to eat a full breakfast and let me break down camp.¡± He met her eyes steadily. ¡°I agree to eat a full breakfast.¡± She narrowed her own eyes and stared back. ¡°I will argue with you about this until we both collapse from exhaustion. Don¡¯t test me.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll eat a full breakfast and I will wake you before dawn.¡± ¡°At least one hour before dawn.¡± ¡°Half an hour.¡± ¡°One hour.¡± ¡°Half.¡± ¡°One.¡± He groaned and dropped his head back as if seeking patience in the trees. Mara grinned. ¡°I win?¡± ¡°You win. One hour before dawn, and a full breakfast. But I¡¯m not sitting like a king and watching you break camp.¡± Mara hadn¡¯t been all that invested in the breaking down of camp, of course. She wasn¡¯t a complete novice at negotiating. Not after spending the better part of her life haggling for ingredients on the shadow-market. She held out her hand. His grin showed a glint of teeth as he accepted it. ¡°Deal?¡± ¡°Deal,¡± she agreed, trying to ignore the prickle of awareness that sparked to life at the feel of his palm against hers, his fingers wrapped around the back of her hand. It felt almost indecent to touch him, even so casually, in the wake of such crashing, enveloping intimacy. Like she risked reigniting a fire that had only just begun to smolder and die. Eli tugged his hand from hers with a touch of controlled urgency, and her face heated. Had she been holding his hand too long, lost in thoughts of forbidden intimacy? Or, worse, had he felt it too? (57) The Guide ¡°So¡­ what now?¡± ¡°To the depths if I know, Mara. I haven¡¯t been here since I was twelve, and back then I was leaving, not trying to get back.¡± They stood together at what they agreed must be the unmistakable landmark where the river emerged from the hills and the guide would meet them, their words all but engulfed by the pounding crash of water. Mara tipped her head back, gazing up at the towering cliff from which the waterfall tumbled. They¡¯d come upon it with no warning. For three days after the Songbird, they¡¯d trekked through the Smokestacks with no indication that the terrain was changing. They could have been walking in circles for all she could tell, if not for the steady direction of the compass. And then, out of nowhere on the morning of the fourth day¡­ this. The cliff rose up over them, tall as a Loftland pine and broad enough she couldn¡¯t see where it fell away to either side. It stretched out in either direction, straight enough it brought to mind a manmade wall more than a geographic feature. Mara might have thought it was manmade, if not for the fact that it was clearly a thing of the land¡ªas if the ground had simply split apart, one half of the earth sliding down while the other shot up. Surely, this was where the guide was meant to meet them, but they¡¯d been waiting for four hours and night was about to fall. ¡°Is it meant to take this long?¡± ¡°Mara, I don¡¯t know.¡± Eli sat beside her on a fallen log, studying the pool with an expression of troubled confusion that didn¡¯t assuage her own growing trepidation. Nick played at their feet, digging a hole in the soft, wet earth for reasons unknown to Mara but nonetheless deeply important to him. ¡°Should we make camp here?¡± Eli sighed and looked to the sun, flirting with the trees on the far side of the river. ¡°Let¡¯s. Maybe they only come by once a day, and we missed the window today.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Mara said. ¡°I bet that¡¯s it.¡± They stood and hefted their packs, and Mara had just crouched to clean off Nick¡¯s hands when Eli froze. She went still as well, one finger pressed to her lips, eyes piercing her son with unspoken command. ¡°Human,¡± Eli whispered after a few heartbeats. ¡°Hide.¡± They¡¯d already formulated a plan for this meeting¡ªhow she and Nick would tuck themselves away in case whoever came upon them wasn¡¯t the guide, or in case it was the guide and something else went wrong. They¡¯d even picked out a particular hiding spot in the hours they¡¯d been waiting¡ªa tumble of massive rocks near the base of the cliff. She could watch from there, but the vegetation nearby was thick enough she could also slip away into the forest if needed. She took Nick there now and stood where she could just peek through a narrow slit where two of the rocks met. ¡°You have to be extra quiet, my love,¡± she told Nick, and in the back of her mind she wondered what long-term damage all this being quiet was doing to her son¡¯s development. Children were meant to be loud and inhibited. They shouldn¡¯t acquiesce as easily as Nick did, his little face fixed into solemn lines of understanding. Pressing a kiss to his cheek and closing the door on worries for which she didn¡¯t yet have the time, Mara turned her attention back to present worries. To Eli, who sat on the log where she¡¯d left him, placidly watching the water thunder down into the pool like he¡¯d wandered into the most forbidding woodland on the continent during his afternoon ramble and had simply stopped to rest his legs and enjoy the view. They waited for five minutes. Ten. Mara had just reached into her pocket to check the watch a third time when movement caught her eye and Eli stood. In no evident rush, he turned to face the man who emerged from the trees. Mara¡¯s first impression of the newcomer was simply large. Heavily muscled and broad as a barn, he stood at least half a foot taller than Eli, who stood several inches taller than Mara, who was herself no dainty flower. If she¡¯d had time over the last few days to conjure a mental image of the mysterious Smokestacks guide, the reality wasn¡¯t far from what her imagination would have conjured. Aside from his aggressive largeness, he wore a thick beard that concealed much of his face, and his hair hung in a tangle to his shoulders. His clothing, however, was well cared for, his leather boots and vest oiled to a smooth matte finish. He wore a broadsword at his belt and carried a crossbow in his right hand, quiver of bolts at his shoulder. Mara watched as the two men studied each other. She¡¯d learned, by now, not to underestimate Eli in a fight, but she still didn¡¯t like how this felt¨Cthis hiding, purposeless and impotent, while he stood between her and such a mountainous danger. She might have faith in his ability to protect her, but her concern for her own safety had evolved into concern for his. But before her pulse could trip from the steady hammer of anxiety into the flutter of outright fear, the hairy man¡¯s face broke into a grin so bright she could see it even through the heavy concealment of his beard. ¡°Enjoying the sunshine, are you, brother?¡± Eli¡¯s back was partly to her, so Mara couldn¡¯t see his face. But his tone held a smile no less bright when he replied. ¡°Best one can do to warm one¡¯s bones, this far from hearth and home.¡± With a guffaw, the bigger man yanked Eli into a hug that made Mara wince and flex her own shoulders in sympathy. Then he pushed him away, held him by the shoulders, and gave him a little shake. Took his head between two meaty paws, and gave it a little shake. And finally pulled him back in for another spine-cracking hug. Eli, for his part, received the affectionate assault with characteristic equanimity, thumping the man a few times on the back in obvious but restrained fondness. When they parted, Eli put a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder, leaning close. Mara could make out the low murmur of his voice but not the words and knew that he was giving this man the same briefing he¡¯d given every other person they encountered¨CI have Davy¡¯s widow with me, and his son. The kid doesn¡¯t know his dad is dead. Best if you don¡¯t spill the secret. As he spoke, the man¡¯s eyes shot unerringly to hers. How he could see her through the tangle of vines, Mara had no idea. But she was unmistakably seen. ¡°Hello, there!¡± he bellowed. ¡°You can come on out now, darling.¡± Mara hesitated until Eli turned to give her a reassuring smile, tipping his head for her to join them. Gathering Nick against her, she circled around the rocks and strode toward them. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Depths, but the man was huge. She¡¯d thought it might just be the perspective, but the closer she came the more he loomed. When she reached Eli¡¯s side, she had to tip her head back just to see the man¡¯s face. ¡°Hello.¡± Teeth flashed in a grin behind his beard, but his eyes were heavy with sympathy. He bowed his head and closed his eyes in brief, silent acknowledgment of her loss before his face brightened once more. ¡°Hello yourself, darling. I¡¯m Quint.¡± He stuck out a massive hand and she switched Nick to her left hip before extending her own. ¡°Mara.¡± ¡°A lovely name,¡± he said, his fingers engulfing her hand entirely before he gave it one small, gentle shake, ¡°for a lovely lady.¡± ¡°Gods¡¯ sake,¡± Eli muttered. ¡°Now I know why they stuck you out here.¡± Dropping Mara¡¯s hand, Quint flashed his grin at Eli before reaching out and engulfing him in another hug, which Eli made a token effort to escape, which transformed the hug into a loose headlock, which Eli managed to escape in earnest with at least the bulk of his dignity intact. Nick giggled from where he¡¯d hidden his face in his arm, which drew the giant¡¯s attention. ¡°And you must be Nick, then?¡± Quint said, and Nick peaked out. ¡°It¡¯s an honor to meet you, sir. My name is Quint.¡± Nick stared at the enormous hand held out to him, then looked up at Quint¡¯s face, then at Eli, and finally up at Mara. She raised her eyebrows and scrunched her nose into a silly smile to put him at ease, which warmed into a true one as Nick reached out and wrapped his hand around two of Quint¡¯s fingers. ¡°What do you say, Nicky?¡± Mara asked. ¡°Is nice to meet you too, Mister Kint,¡± Nick mumbled with a bashful grin. ¡°So,¡± Quint said, giving Nick¡¯s hand a final pump before turning to Eli. ¡°Let¡¯s get you lot to the house?¡± Mara¡¯s heart stuttered. Was this it? Was this man about to take them to the Enclave? Eli hadn¡¯t told her anything beyond this point¨Cit didn¡¯t seem that he could. Was it really so close? What would happen when they get there? Would Davy¡¯s parents be there? Tonight? Would she have to meet them in her stiff, smelly trekking clothes? Would she have to hug them and cry with them? Tonight? Would she have to tell Nick the truth? Tonight? Would Davy leave her to her lonely dreams? Now? She wasn¡¯t ready. She wasn¡¯t ready. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up and her gaze met Eli¡¯s. His expression was caught somewhere between question and concern, eyes searching. ¡°To Quint¡¯s house,¡± he clarified, and she wondered if he¡¯d seen her panic or felt it. The echoes of connection had faded for her in the days since the Songbird, but perhaps it lingered for him. She ought to ask. ¡°The guide¡¯s house,¡± Eli was saying. ¡°Quint can tell us more, but we won¡¯t reach the Enclave tonight.¡± Having missed the split second exchange that, for Mara, had stretched out into whole minutes, Quint threw his head back and laughed. ¡°No,¡± he chuckled, turning and heading back into the woods. Eli gestured for her to precede him, and she ducked her head and followed after Quint. Ahead of her, his chuckle slid into an amused sigh. ¡°You won¡¯t reach the Enclave tonight.¡± ¡°When will we reach the Enclave?¡± she asked. Maybe this man hadn¡¯t taken quite so many blood oaths as her companion and she¡¯d finally be able to learn something useful. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that kind of talk will have to wait,¡± Quint answered. Maybe not. Mara glanced back at Eli, who shrugged. ¡°The Enclave didn¡¯t have the protection of numbers, back when it was first settled,¡± he explained. ¡°Most of its defense is magical in nature, and the Guide is one of the weakest points in the defense.¡± ¡°Excuse you,¡± Quint said good naturedly. ¡°Especially when the position is manned by loud-mouthed giants who couldn¡¯t naturally retain a secret if their lives literally depended on it,¡± Eli shot past her. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say you understood why I was entrusted with this esteemed honor?¡± Quint lobbed back. ¡°I said I understand why they wanted to get rid of you for a year or two. I introduce you to Davy¡¯s wife and less than ten seconds later you¡¯re flirting with her.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t flirting.¡± Quint looked over his shoulder to Mara, and she felt like a small child invited to play with slightly older small children. ¡°Did you feel as if I was flirting with you, darling?¡± Mara bit the inside of her lip. ¡°Well nobody else but my mother has ever called me ¡®darling,¡¯¡± she offered¨Cher best effort at a neutral play. ¡°But you both seem to have forgotten that this repartee did start with me asking a question, to which I still haven¡¯t received an answer.¡± Quint laughed, offering her a pleased grin over his shoulder. ¡°And I¡¯ve gone and forgotten what the question was. But if I did remember, I¡¯d probably bet that I didn¡¯t answer because I can¡¯t. As Prince Eli, here, was in the process of explaining when I knocked him off his path, the Guide is indeed a weak point in the Enclave¡¯s magical defenses. As such, there are rituals upon spells upon rules to perform and abide by before I can tell you even the most basic details about where you¡¯re going or how you¡¯re going to get there.¡± ¡°Well at least this process is consistent,¡± Mara sighed, smiling at Eli¡¯s quiet huff of amusement from behind her. ¡°We rebels do seek consistency in our day-to-day,¡± Quint said agreeably. ¡°We only mean to topple the government, not your sense of equilibrium.¡± Having led them to a place in the cliff face indistinguishable from every other point along the towering granite wall, their guide stopped and turned around. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out three small carved-stone pendants, dangling from loops of twine.. ¡°You¡¯ll need to put these on before we go any further. Wear it inside your shirt. It needs to touch bare skin.¡± Mara eyed the stones dubiously as Eli reached out and took one. ¡°What are they?¡± Quint shrugged and jerked a thumb at Eli. ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask him. I haven¡¯t got an ounce of magic in me.¡± ¡°Everyone¡¯s got magic in them, you clown,¡± Eli grumbled, slipping the twine over his head and tucking the pendant beneath his shirt. He took the remaining two from Quint and turned to Mara. ¡°It¡¯s mostly shadow-casting,¡± he assured her. ¡°Specific to the illusions and wards over the Guide¡¯s outpost.¡± ¡°Mostly?¡± ¡°Mostly, yes. There¡¯s a thread of persuasion worked in. It tangles the words on the way out if you try to tell anyone else what you¡¯re seeing. It¡¯s how the Enclave protects all its avenues of approach.¡± That did make sense, Mara reasoned. If the place was protected by illusory persuasion, it would be safer if only a limited number of people were able to see through said illusions. And you wouldn¡¯t want those people able to articulate what they were seeing or a few good communicators with pendants could lead a successful, albeit fumbling assault. ¡°Clever,¡± she said, reaching a hand out and hovering her fingers near the stone pendants Eli held out for her. She didn¡¯t have to exert herself to hear the cool static of the shadows¨Cfamiliar after so long spent living with Davy. Dispelling the thought, she took the two remaining pendants and slipped one over her head. The second she tucked it under her shirt and the cool stone touched her skin, the world sharpened, though she hadn¡¯t even notice it had gone out of focus. ¡°Oh.¡± She blinked up at the cliff face, which was not in itself an illusion. What was an illusion was that the wall was unbroken. ¡°Oh my.¡± They stood before a narrow crevasse in the wall, and Mara peered into it¨Cbare earth with a few scraggly plants clinging to life against each wall, stretching into shadow and then into darkness. ¡°Nick, my love,¡± she said, turning to her son. ¡°I want you to close your eyes and help me do some magic, alright?¡± Her son obediently snapped his eyes shut, and she turned them so the cliff was at his back and slipped the last pendant over his head, tucking it under his shirt. ¡°Now when I count to three you¡¯re going to clap your hands and a big hallway is going to appear in the cliff. And Mister Quint will take us down the hallway to a nice warm house to sleep in. Are you ready?¡± Nick nodded vehemently, eyes still squeezed shut, and Mara had to pull her head back to avoid his forehead slamming into her chin. ¡°Alright, one. Two. Three!¡± Nick clapped and his eyes popped open and he looked up at her expectantly. ¡°Nicky, you did it!¡± she exclaimed, spinning around so he could see the cliff face. His little eyebrows shot up, and he looked at Eli. ¡°That¡¯s impressive magic, buddy,¡± he said with a solemn nod. ¡°Well done.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Quint said, leaning against the opening with a lazy grin hiding behind his bushy beard. ¡°Thank you for your help, Prince Nick. Now, come on, the lot of you. I¡¯d like to get home before dark.¡± (58) Dustlily ¡°Oh¡­¡± Mara stopped in her tracks and bent reflexively to pick up Nick, who had been walking at her side. ¡°My.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Quint said with a knowing sigh. ¡°It is a bit worse on this side of the wall, isn¡¯t it?¡± Their walk through the crevasse had been much shorter than Mara expected¨Cfifteen minutes at most. But the forest into which they emerged on the other side was somehow darker, denser, closer than the one they had left. She sidestepped until the sleeve of her jacket brushed Eli¡¯s, peering out into the trees. The thick trunks stood so close together, Quint would have to turn sideways to fit through some of the gaps, the canopy low enough to brush the top of his head. Vines hung like curtains from every low branch, and crept in a tangle over the ground. ¡°It¡¯s not far,¡± Quint said, leading the way into the forest, but Mara hesitated. And not because of the woods, although their new density was admittedly intimidating. It was the sense that their journey had entered its final stage. They might not reach the Enclave tonight, but they¡¯d reached a point where the future felt nearer at hand than the past. Ahead of her was the first person she had ever met who worked directly, openly for the rebellion. Not as a spy or an underground physik or a shadow-caster. As a guard, a wayfarer. He probably knew Davy¡¯s parents, not as distant leaders or as a lofty ideal, but as people. He¡¯d know what they looked like, where they lived. He knew the streets of the Enclave as well as Mara knew the alleyways of the Capital. She was so close to her destination. To Davy¡¯s parents, to his past, to the future without him. That future loomed over her as unscalable as the cliff face at her back, and she found herself pressed between the two, unable to move in either direction. ¡°Mara.¡± Eli¡¯s quiet voice wound through her rising trepidation, and his elbow nudged hers, a glancing reassurance. Her mouth opened, confession ready on her tongue, but several steps ahead of them and already half-obscured by foliage and darkness, Quint had stopped and turned. ¡°Alright back there?¡± he called, and before Eli could answer, to ask for a couple of minutes which he would no doubt spend escorting her gently through this new iteration of the same tiresome crisis, Mara finally captured her wits. ¡°Of course! Sorry.¡± She plunged after Quint, and a few seconds later heard Eli¡¯s footsteps behind her. Fortunately, the choking forest left little space for her thoughts. How Quint kept his way, Mara had no idea. He had no compass, and the trees were too dense for them to walk a straight line even if one knew which direction to travel. The path they followed wound through the trees, the terrain and the mad tangle of vegetation prodding them left then right in tight turns and wide curves. Several times, they had to stop and remove their packs to shuffle sideways through the gap between two trees. Mara thought of the tunnel beneath the city, the way it pressed in tighter as they walked, until they were forced to crawl. Cold sweat trickled down the back of her neck and along the curve of her spine. A scream buffeted about within her, and she itched to scramble up a nearby tree, climb until she reached the top, and breathe the fresh air above the canopy. All she could see was a sea of dark green and shadows. All she could hear was the rasp of her own breathing. All she could smell¨C ¡°How much farther?¡± Eli asked from behind her. ¡°About ten minutes,¡± Quint called back. Ten minutes. She could manage ten minutes. ¡°So how long have they had you down here?¡± Eli again, and Mara didn¡¯t need the lingering echoes of an obscure, nigh impossible magical connection to know his intention. She just needed to know Eli, who would have noticed from her posture alone that she was panicking and taken it upon himself to distract her. ¡°About four months.¡± ¡°Explains why you stopped answering my letters.¡± ¡°Sorry about that.¡± Quint turned sideways to fit between two trees, then immediately ducked beneath a low branch. Mara, thankfully, had to neither turn nor duck to follow him. ¡°Wasn¡¯t much warning. They told me I was coming down, and the next day we were off. I asked Bri to mention it. They didn¡¯t tell you?¡± ¡°Might¡¯ve. We left the city months ago and the birds were running slow all spring. Circuit winds were brutal this year.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me. I was on South Peak before I drew this assignment. Six months since I came off the mountain and I swear I can still hear the wind.¡± ¡°How long is this rotation?¡± ¡°A year.¡± ¡°Must be driving you mad.¡± Despite the teasing earlier, Mara heard genuine sympathy in Eli¡¯s voice. And fondness. Quint, she had deduced, must be a friend from childhood. Which meant he was likely Davy¡¯s friend as well. She wondered if Davy had exchanged birds with Quint, or with this Bri person. He¡¯d told her so little of the Enclave, except that it existed and that he¡¯d grown up there. He¡¯d told her so little of anything. ¡°It¡¯s not so bad. It¡¯s a paired duty with a six month offset for continuity. I¡¯ve been here with Vauntner. No idea who they¡¯ll send down to replace him, though.¡± ¡°Vauntner is a scout?¡± ¡°Two years now. Baby Vauntner, all grown up. You¡¯ll like him. Reminds me of you, a little.¡± ¡°Magic?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°What about¡­ what was her name? The Delosh girl his family took in. She¡¯d just been born when we were leaving.¡± ¡°Who, Franny?¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡± ¡°Bri didn¡¯t tell you? Franny just manifested last year. Shadow-caster.¡± ¡°How many does that make?¡± ¡°Current count is twenty-two in training, unless it¡¯s changed since I left.¡± ¡°Elise must be ecstatic.¡± ¡°She brought in a trainer from Polandria. Odd fellow. Wears robes.¡± ¡°How¡¯d she manage that?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask her.¡± ¡°What about fighters?¡± Their conversation droned on, and Mara listened with one ear, half fascinated and half distracted. Every new piece of information held echoes of Davy. Davy would have known this Vauntner person, and might have been eager to see him again. Davy would have been excited that the Delosh girl, whoever she was, had manifested as a shadow-caster. Davy would have taken up a training role for the next generation of shadow-casters. Davy would be curious about the state of the fighting force, about the Enclave¡¯s defenses, about the gardens and the fields through which the settlement fed itself. Davy should be walking behind her. Davy should be here. Davy should be coming home When the trees finally broke ahead of them, and the log cabin came into view, she knew she should¡¯ve been charmed by the chaotic garden that surrounded the cabin, by the candlelight flickering in the windows, by the inviting smell of woodsmoke. But bitterness tinged the picture a sickly yellow. Quint unlatched the front gate, and Mara wasn¡¯t so lost in her surging grief to miss the runes carved into the wood beside the latch or the feather of magic that tickled the soles of her feet as she stepped through the gate. A trail of flagstones cut a haphazard path through the tangled garden to the front door of the cabin, but Quint didn¡¯t lead them up it. ¡°You alright to stay out here a minute while I go brief Vauntner?¡± he asked, looking to Mara for an answer. ¡°Of course,¡± she said, barely hearing herself. ¡°We¡¯ll stay here and admire your garden.¡± ¡°More Vauntner¡¯s passion than mine,¡± he said, before ambling off up the path. ¡°Oh look,¡± Mara said, reaching for a shrub growing beside the gate and plucking one of the delicate pink and white flowers. The colors were so bright, they all but glowed even in the twilight. She twirled it in front of Nick¡¯s face. ¡°You remember this one, love? We found some back in Loftland.¡± Nick shook his head before dropping it heavily onto her shoulder, rubbing at his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll take him,¡± Eli said quietly. With a sigh, Mara handed her son over. Nick went so easily, snuggling into Eli¡¯s chest with a fist tucked under his chin and eyes already going foggy with sleep. Eli, for his part, accepted the burden as if it was his to bear. An unbidden, unwelcome thought scraped at the back of Mara¡¯s mind. Nick was too young to truly understand what he had lost. He¡¯d simply traded one father figure for another, and the new one didn¡¯t leave for weeks and months at a time. The window for her to tell her son about Davy¡¯s passing, and for him to actually care, had probably already closed. ¡°You okay?¡± Mara startled and realized she¡¯d been staring down at the pink and white flower¨Cdustlily¨Cwith tears in her eyes. She looked up at Eli, who stood with Davy¡¯s son in his arms, Davy¡¯s pack slung over his shoulders, Davy¡¯s burdens carving a deep, worried line between his brows. He¡¯d lowered his chin to rest lightly atop Nick¡¯s head as he studied her, waiting for her answer. ¡°Of course!¡± she said brightly, swiping her finger beneath her eyes to clear the tears away before they could fall. ¡°We get to sleep indoors tonight, right?¡± He didn¡¯t believe her. She knew by the long, pointed look he gave her¨Cthe I¡¯ll ask again later look¨Cbefore he shifted his gaze to the flower in her hand. ¡°Dustlily.¡± She sniffed and smiled a wobbly smile. ¡°That¡¯s right. Uses?¡± ¡°That I can¡¯t remember.¡± She twirled the flower, until the starburst of pink streaks shooting out from the stamen blurred into a circle. ¡°It¡¯s a mood stabilizer,¡± she said absently. ¡°Would it help with grief?¡± ¡°It can,¡± she admitted, lifting the flower to her face and taking a whiff. It smelled, of course, of her son¡¯s hair and of Davy¡¯s soap. Dustlily always smelled of the things one found most calming. But the smell of Davy was faint. Faraway. As if she was already forgetting. ¡°It¡¯s not very powerful, though. One would really have to want it to work.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a shame.¡± His words were a murmur, and she saw why. Nick¡¯s eyelids were drifting closed, his fingers loosening their grip on Eli¡¯s sleeve. Mara looked back down at the flower and then tucked it into her pocket. When she looked up, Eli was still watching her, eyes intent. ¡°You okay?¡± She swallowed. ¡°You already asked me that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m asking again.¡± Just for a moment¨Ca wretched, weak, selfish fraction of a heartbeat¨Cshe wanted to step into him and lay her head on his chest beside Nick¡¯s and tell the truth. She wanted to say, No, I am not. I¡¯m not okay. I don¡¯t want to do this. I don¡¯t want to keep going. Take me back. Back through the Smokestacks. Across the Morro plains and the Ribbon. Take me back to Ashfall, and then to Loftland, through the tunnel, into the city. Take me home. Take me back. Take me to Davy. And he would, she thought. If she asked, Eli would turn them around tonight and lead them back through the Smokestacks, across the plains. He¡¯d tow them across the Ribbon and half carry them over the mountains of Ashfall. But there was no further back to go from there. From there, the only option left was a new version of forward, across the Stormway to Ralin and a new life. The only way to return to Davy was in her dreams, and she knew she couldn¡¯t keep him there. She could perhaps, if Eli was right, hold fast to her love and her grief and never let him go. She could have him¨Csoft and sleep and evergreen, unchanging in her dreams as the relentless march of her own waking years wore her down and reshaped her into someone he didn¡¯t know. ¡°Mara?¡± She found Eli¡¯s eyes, half his face lit by the warm light from the cabin, the other in shadows. Insects sang a chorus from the thick tangle of plant life around them. ¡°All these people¡­ they know Davy. We¡¯re getting so close.¡± Rubbing a hand up and down Nick¡¯s back, he nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to¡­¡± She raised her hands and let them fall at her sides. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do. When we get there, I still don¡¯t know what to do.¡± I don¡¯t know if I can let him go. ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if I will.¡± ¡°You will. And if you can¡¯t, I¡¯ll be there with you. I¡¯ll help.¡± Her vision blurred, her nose burned, and she closed her eyes just as the first hot tears broke loose and tracked down her cheeks. She wanted, more than anything else in the world, simply to be held. Not in her dreams, but here. Now. In this moment, when her ribs were caving in from the force of the emptiness inside her and her skull was cracking with the pressure of her fear. She wanted, needed someone to hold her together. Here. Now. Light flared against the back of her eyelids, and Quint¡¯s voice called from behind her. ¡°Alright, you can come in. You¡¯ll be taking your boots off at the door, though. Vauntner¡¯s rules.¡± (59) Eavesdropping Mara traveled through what remained of the day in a fog. She met Vauntner¡ªa soft-spoken young man of unremarkable height, width, and features who looked like a child beside Quint but seemed, nonetheless, to rule the cabin and its goings on with quiet command. They were given a brief tour of the cabin¡ªmore spacious than it appeared from the outside¡ªand she was shown to the small room where she and Nick would sleep. It was little more than a closet, the only furniture a twin-sized bed and a bench by the door. But it had a roof and the mattress was soft and Vauntner brought her a basket of extra blankets and a bucket of steaming water for cleaning up. The thick walls muffled the men¡¯s voices to a dull murmur as she prepared first Nick and then herself for bed and tucked them in. By the time she laid her head down on the pillow, the hum of their voices had worked its way inside her skull and settled there, like a lullaby. Like she was a child again with her head on her father¡¯s chest, dozing as her parents chatted away the quiet early hours of the night. She rode the gentle ebb and flow of those voices into sleep, the transition so seamless she didn¡¯t realize where she was until she opened her eyes and found herself looking at the familiar window seat, a yellow bird sitting on a branch outside the window. As she watched, it turned toward her, chirped once, and flew away. Behind her, the rumble of voices continued, and she turned over to find herself alone in the bed, a dent still in the pillow where Davy had been sleeping. The voices came from beyond the door, and though distance stretched the sound out like overworked taffy and she couldn¡¯t discern the words, she knew the voices. Davy¡¯s. Eli¡¯s. She¡¯d never heard Eli in the dreams before. Climbing from the bed, she hurried toward the door and had just reached for the handle when it turned. The door swung open, revealing Davy. She peered over her shoulder, but the hall outside¨Cfeatureless plaster walls¨Cwas empty. Davy¡¯s eyebrow arched, lips turning up in a challenging smile. ¡°Looking for someone?¡± he asked. She opened her mouth to answer and woke to darkness, back in the cabin, back in reality. She must not have slept long, because it was still dark and she could still hear voices on the far side of the wall. Fumbling for the pocket watch she¡¯d hung on the bedpost, she flipped it open and held it close to her face, squinting to make out the face. What were they still doing up at two in the morning? Eli must have been as exhausted as she was, so whatever they were still discussing must be important. Curiosity sparked a wobbly flame amid the damp, dank landscape of her sadness. She lay, listening to the muffled voices, and cupped her hands around the flame, blowing gently until warmth radiated outward and questions sprouted to life within her. Curiosity had always been a driving force in her life. Curiosity about magic, about plants, about the world, about what kind of life was possible in a society where opportunity was a currency tightly controlled and hoarded by those in power. About what kind of life was possible if a person managed to escape. That curiosity had largely lain dormant inside her as long as they¡¯d been on the run, striking rare sparks that invariably fell back into darkness at the first hint of hardship or reminder of Davy¡¯s death. But she couldn¡¯t afford to let it sleep any longer. They were so close. So perilously close to whatever came next. The last grains of sand were racing through the hourglass, and Depths¡­she had so many questions. Nick still snored beside her, tucked into a ball against the wall, his head having somehow found its way underneath the pillow instead of atop it. With eyes half-closed, she rearranged her son¡¯s body so he lay more comfortably and then slipped out of the bed, pulling the blankets over top of him. Eli was sensitive to her energy, she knew, so she kept her eyes closed, her mind loose and drowsy, as she tiptoed to the wall that separated her room from the kitchen. The voices tumbled along, uninterrupted, and she pressed her ear cautiously against the rough wood of the wall. ¡°--won¡¯t be a warm welcome. You know that.¡± Quint¡¯s voice, low with warning. ¡°I know.¡± Eli. Calm. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Then why come back?¡± Urgency laced through the words. Quiet, repressed desperation. ¡°I thought Prosco was the¨C¡± ¡°Quint.¡± Still calm, but not calm like a river, the way she was used to. Calm as cold stone. ¡°Stop.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just saying that¨C¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it right now. Please.¡± A pause ensued. Short but heavy. ¡°Fine. But I¡¯ll remind you, again, that you have our support. We¡¯re on your side in this.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll remind you again, there are no sides in this. There can¡¯t be. Fracturing the rebellion would be suicide.¡± Fracturing the rebellion? Mara fought to keep her own energy calm, reaching out on instinct and snatching up a tendril of Eli¡¯s steadiness, lashing it around her own straining heart. She¡¯d known since Cinder that there was discontent within the rebellion¡¯s ranks, but she¡¯d never imagined that discontent could have flourished to the level of an uprising. Davy had always told her the rebellion was strong. Would he have told you if it wasn¡¯t, Mara? ¡°It wouldn¡¯t fracture,¡± Quint said quietly, but the words held no hope. Just resignation. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to¨C¡± ¡°Please, Quint. Stop.¡± The plea was almost pained, and Quint must have heard it too. He sighed, so heavy it was audible even through the wall. ¡°Fine. But I¡¯m only letting you off because you¡¯ll be hearing it from Bri, too.¡± ¡°I know. And I¡¯ll tell Bri the same thing. The rebellion won¡¯t succeed in pieces, and Elise and Rorick are our leaders. They know what they¡¯re doing. They have a plan.¡± ¡°The question isn¡¯t whether they have a plan, it¡¯s whether it¡¯s a good one.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll fix it. Just trust me, Quint.¡± ¡°I do, man. You know I do. Just look out for yourself, alright? We can¡¯t lose you too.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Quint said, and Mara heard the clatter of ceramic, the scrape of chair legs over the wood floor. ¡°There¡¯s a bed in the loft. Vauntner took your bag up before he turned in. Go get some sleep. If I see you before noon tomorrow, I¡¯ll knock you out myself.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll see me at dawn. I plan to be on the road after breakfast.¡± ¡°Eli, brother¡­the pass is a hard journey, and the kid is the only one who looks fit enough to survive it. Give yourself and that poor woman a few days to rest. Get some meat back on your bones before you move on.¡± A long, tense pause followed, which Mara spent silently pleading with Eli to listen to his friend¡¯s guidance. ¡°We can stay for two nights at the most.¡± ¡°You need at least three.¡± ¡°You either want me to get up there and fix things or not. Two nights.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t fix anything if that bag of bones you¡¯re calling a body gives out before you reach the Enclave. Three nights.¡± ¡°Two.¡± ¡°Three. ¡°Two.¡± ¡°Four.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how bartering works.¡± ¡°Five.¡± ¡°Two.¡± ¡°Six.¡± ¡°You¡¯re an insufferable oaf. Three nights.¡± ¡°That is how bartering works. The loft. Sleep. Now.¡± An annoyed sigh accompanied another scrape of chair legs, and then all she could hear was the clatter of silverware and the creak of the floor beneath unshod feet. Mara crept back to her own bed and slipped beneath the covers, simultaneously warm with relief and tingling with unease. She¡¯d have to find a way to thank Quint for bullying Eli into a longer stay. She¡¯d imagined¨Cperhaps because she knew Eli¨Cthat this would only be a one night stay. Now she had three. Three nights of a full belly and sound sleep and Davy in her dreams with the Enclave and all its emotional and logistical complexities rendered static on the horizon. But the rest of the conversation¡­ She¡¯d already guessed that Eli was more to the rebellion than a foot soldier sent to protect Davy. He was too powerful for that. But she¡¯d not thought further than assigning him a higher rank which, in retrospect, was foolish. What was it he had told her when she asked him what role he would fill when they reached the Enclave? That his effect on Elise and Rorick tended more toward incendiary than quelling? She hadn¡¯t thought much of the comment at the time. She¡¯d assumed it had to do with Davy¡¯s death, but now that she actually thought about it, how could that make sense? He hadn¡¯t interacted with the Linharts at all since going on the run. Whatever friction existed between them must predate Davy¡¯s death. Mind whirling in dizzy circles, she turned onto her side and tucked an arm around Nick, pulling him into her chest. She expected to be awake for hours, processing all the new information, but sleep came for her almost immediately. She dropped into the dream with Davy now beside her in the four poster. He lay at her back, his arm looped around her waist, his breath warm and slow against the nape of her neck. His presence quieted her mind, and she fell further, deeper, into a dream within a dream. And there, she dreamt of fractured loyalties.