“This is impossible.” Getting to my feet, I take the bag and run the string between my thumb and index finger.
I know this string. It’s handmade by warriors-elect early into training. The multi-step process is a lesson in cooperation with your fellow first-years. My own fingers were stained by the dye for days, despite my best efforts to scrub it off with Vera’s most expensive soap.
“Where did you come from?” I ask it. I bring the bag close to my nose. A sweet floral scent shines through the salt of the ocean air, smelling of earth and berries.
I’m transfixed, so much so that I miss the figure approaching from the bluff. An unsteady footstep gives the human away.
On the ridge above me, a little girl stares down at me. She’s maybe eight or nine years old, by the looks of her, and bundled in a knitted hat and cloak. Rogue strands of blond hair stray from the braid down her back. Her fists are pulled up and clasped against her chest like she’s shielding something.
Meanwhile, I am ragged, hair matted and dotted with blood, and in a tattered coat that doesn’t belong to me. I haven’t washed my face in days and am covered in sweat and dirt, but the girl does not look afraid like she should be.
She says something in the humans’ tongue as I rack my brain for what to do. She’s seen me, so I know what my training would say. But she’s just a girl, and the humans already know we’re here. My first kill wasn’t about to be a little girl, human or not.
I could take this portion of the cure and run as if I’d never seen her. But how would I ever make it? Even without humans to watch out for, it would take too long to get back in my sorry state. And if I managed to make it back, there were the other sick children to think about. How could I live with myself if I returned without enough to save them, too?
My thoughts churn faster, but everything goes quiet when the girl says one word—safe.
I look up.
“Safe,” the girl says again. “My mother sent me to look for you. She is like you.” She straightens up. “Loyalty above all.”
I say the three words back before I have the mind to think any further. This girl’s mother—maybe she knew a warrior. Maybe she is one. I don’t have a wealth of options or time to think. I raise the bag and point to it, trying to pick simple words.
“Flower. Plant.” I indicate toward my eye, which I can now open fully. “More. Will you help me?”
The girl exhales and nods. She motions to herself. “Isla.”
“Rowan,” I reply, returning the gesture.
She waits while I gather my strength and join her. If the girl were any bigger, I’d resent that she doesn’t help me, but her petite frame seems to barely withstand the wind. She tugs at the hood of her cloak and stares at the sea with longing.
No, not the sea. The skies.
I must be delusional. Looping the cobalt string around my finger, I search Isla’s eyes for traces of gold—and find them. She is Leonodai.
The revelation is marred by a dark reality. Of course children like her could exist. The scholars were not shy in our lessons when describing some of the horrors Leonodai women have suffered when captured by the humans. But to see Isla in front of me, living and breathing and looking more Leonodai with every gesture, I don’t know how to feel. All my life, my mother has taught and cared for girls like her. But human blood runs in her veins, too.
Isla stays quiet as she leads me inland and into a stretch of forest. Gray trees twist up and around each other, and sheets of peeled cyprus bark litter the ground. A large stone house with a battered rooftop comes into view. The dirty windows and disrepair give it a forgotten air, but the smoke from the chimney says otherwise. Patches of weeds grow unmanaged around most of the square garden plots, but two burst with verdant plants and vegetables. When we reach the doorstep, there are humans’ words above the entryway and a strange symbol. The girl sees me pause. Her mouth tries to form words, probably to translate for me, but she ultimately frowns.
“This is my home,” she says.
Doubt seizes me. This could very well be a human’s trap—but Isla had to have come from somewhere. Cold, hungry, and battered in both mind and soul, I don’t have many options other than to trust. The girl knocks a rhythmic pattern, then opens the door. My knees shake at the warmth that sweeps out, wrapping around my body like a hug from a friend.
Inside, a woman tends the fire, but she straightens up as we enter, her jaw slack with what I can’t decide is relief or surprise. Gold flecks the hazel of her eyes, catching in the light of the fire burning in the hearth behind her.
“Come in, warrior,” the woman says in our mother tongue. “Come in.”
* * *
Warrior Ellian sits me down in front of the fireplace, hands lifting my limbs as she examines my wounds.
“You were smart to eat the flower,” she says. “But you took way too much too fast. It’s no surprise that your mind is a bit foggy. It’ll take a few hours before you feel like yourself again. What is your name?”
“Rowan,” I manage.
“Well, warrior Rowan,” she says. “Welcome. You’re safe here.”
Ellian cooks up some hot oats, the savory smell nearly knocking me out. She feeds them to me, mouthful by mouthful. All I can do is nod and smile in response. Isla watches with curious eyes, but she doesn’t come close. The girl asks a question in a mix of our languages, but I understand the words golden city.
Her mother nods. “Yes.”
After helping me out of my armor, Ellian washes my limp limbs with cloths soaked in hot water, doing her best while my body is overwhelmed by the panacea. Did I really take that much? I can’t remember how much there was. That seems like long ago. Everything does.
I fall asleep, and it’s glorious. When I wake up, it’s late afternoon, and my mind is clearer than before. Ellian lifts her eyes from her book when she sees me sit up.
“How are you feeling?” she says, reaching to the table next to her where a hot cup of tea waits. She hands it to me.
“Better. Thank you,” I say, adjusting the blanket around my legs. “Ellian, your name sounded so familiar to me, but I couldn’t remember for certain until now. You’re Bel’s aunt, aren’t you? He’s my friend, and he’s in my cohort. He’s talked about you.”
Her eyes look out at the distance, like she is looking for something she hasn’t needed in years. “Sweet Bel. All of that feels like another life. I arrived in Balmora ten years ago now, on a mission.” Ten years, I think, remembering my father flying away to join the battle.
Ellian goes on. “King Kharo was younger then and still getting used to his power. He didn’t know the costs of sending warriors so deep into the humans’ lands. While the others fought at the Cliffs, we were sent to the mountains and ordered to keep clear of the fighting. We were to find the humans’ king and kill them at any costs. King Kharo thought that would weaken them to the point of submission, despite the scholars believing the humans had no king.”
“Do they?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not exactly. Each human casts a vote, and the one with the most votes is declared the victor.” She sighs. “We made it this far, my fellow warriors and me. I was confident in my command, perhaps too much. We infiltrated Ramsgate at night. There were a dozen of us, and we must have killed so many. But there were always more humans, and when they sounded the alarm bells, we were trapped. Their reinforcements arrived and overtook us.”
“How did you survive?” I ask.
“Luck.” She sees my look and shakes her head, but good-naturedly. “I know. Leonodai don’t much like to put weight in luck. But in our retreat, another warrior and I found ourselves in a church—special buildings sacred to the humans. There were women there who took pity on us. They follow the teachings of an ancient earth goddess who says no being is greater than another, and no being should harm another.” I tell from her words this is something she’s been told many times since being on Balmora. I want to ask her how she really feels about such thin
gs, but I don’t interrupt.
“They hid us within their ranks. They gave my teammate medicine, but her wounds were too great. She died, and then the storm season came. Humans swarmed the city then, seeking shelter. The heavy rains come every year. I was without my team. I’d failed as their commander. I felt … such shame. So when the women offered me a room, I took it. When they gave me food, I ate. And when they offered me clothes like theirs, I wore them.”
“How?” I blurt before I have the sense to consider it rude. “How could you stay away?”
“It was her,” she says. “My child. Don’t worry, she is probably listening.” Ellian adds the last with a smile, glancing at an adjacent room that I guessed was Isla’s. “I was already carrying Isla when I left the Heliana, but I did not know it yet,” Ellian says. “As I was sheltered here on Balmora, the women taking care of me began to first realize it. Their behavior changed. They told me that women who dressed like them did not have children and that I’d be found out soon. I needed to be with a partner.”
“There was a man I’d seen around the church,” she goes on. “He helped tend the garden and do repair work for the women. They gave the man and me a new dwelling—this one. It used to be a place of retreat and meditation, but no one comes here anymore. Most of the humans in the city have forgotten it exists. Those who know about it don’t come here because it belongs to the church women.”
“Why didn’t you run?” I ask.
“I did,” she says, the fire back in her tone for the first time. “Once. I thought that if I could make it back to the Heliana before my pregnancy progressed, I’d be all right. But the women at the church had few supplies, and a storm forced me back. I wanted to live. I wanted my child to live. So I came back.”
“And the man?”
“He was waiting by the door,” she said. “He let me back inside, and our lives continued as if I had never left. The women would visit often, helping me get ready for Isla. The man would come here at the end of the day, wave his greeting, then go into another room. He never touched me, but he cooked and cleaned. Each time the women were here, the man would be kind to them, too. I don’t know how to explain it. We spoke to each other in our own languages. I learned his words, and he learned mine. Once Isla came, he did everything so I would never have to lift a finger. The women trusted him, and I started to as well. Over time, I fell in love. I loved him.”
She closes her eyes, face contorted in pain. “The rest you can imagine. My shame stayed with me, but my desire to leave dwindled. Ten years is so long, Rowan.”
“That can’t be true,” I say. “What about after she was born? Why didn’t you go back? How … how can you live here? So far from the Heliana? I don’t understand.”
The older warrior looks away from me. “You are asking all the questions I’ve been asking myself for years. Having Isla so far from my mother and sisters … I started to lose the will to live. Thank the skies Isla turned out healthy. After she was born, I got an infection and nearly died. The first three months of my baby’s life, I could barely lift my arms enough to hold her.”
I grip my tea tighter. “Oh.”
“I’ve been telling myself I will go back,” Ellian goes on. “Someday. But being a mother has changed me. My courage isn’t gone. It’s different. What if I tried to leave and we were caught? They’d take me from her—or worse. Isla would be all alone. One good look into her eyes would reveal what she is.”
I fight the lump in my throat. Looking around the cabin, I look for signs of another person and come up empty. “Where is the man now?”
She pauses. “He died in an boating accident a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, because that’s what I would normally say to someone sharing a painful memory—though it is strange to say it of a human.
“Anyway,” she says. “I never expected to hear rumors of Leonodai moving inland, but it’s all that Ramsgate has been talking about for the past days. That’s why I had Isla go look for you. I could barely keep her from going, anyway. She’s always running around exploring the woods here. When she was little, I’d bring her into the garden and tell her to stay put while I worked. I’d turn for one second, and off she’d go.” Ellian sighs. “Now I don’t fight it. It’s safer for her to be running around the trees than wanting to venture into town.”
I look away from Ellian and try to place myself in her shoes. Surely, it’s worth the risk for her and Isla to return home. If I had to make a choice that put the girls at Storm’s End or my mother in such danger, would I be able to do it? I think I would, but part of me protests. Staying put is safety. For Ellian, that has become enough.
This is something Shirene would be able to understand. Like water, she fit into wherever she needed to be and excelled there. But staying still doesn’t sit well with me. I need more than that.
“Rowan,” Ellian asks, bringing me back. “Why are you here?”
For a moment, I doubt whether I should tell her what’s happened. She’s been here too long, said she loved a human. But … Ellian is Leonodai. Like Noam, the heart that beats in her chest pumps blood laced with the magic of our people. She taught her daughter our steady oath. There is a part of her that is sun and skies, same as me, and no amount of time can shake that.
So I tell her everything I know.
Her jaw drops as I recount the children getting sick. Ellian’s gaze goes to Isla’s room, then back to me as she listens. I tell her about the teams leaving, the sentinels’ lies, and about Noam. Then I mention Prince Tabrol.
“We don’t have much time,” I say. “That’s why I need more of the cure. To save him, and everyone else.”
“Skies,” she says, then another curse in a thicker Leonodai tone. The sound makes me smile, despite everything. “There isn’t much of the plant left. The holy women have told me that the cure was bought and sold too much for too many years. The plants dwindled, and merchants destroyed competitors’ supply so they could raise their own prices. Now only one mother plant remains, and it’s closely protected by the holy women and soldiers. The women tend to it and sell its flowers carefully it as a means of making money for their charity work.”
I lean forward. “How much is there?”
“I don’t know for sure. But I think there is enough.” She closes her eyes. “They have been so kind to me to the point where sometimes I think their goddess is speaking to me, too. Now we must pray we haven’t exhausted their generosity.”
My skin crawls at the thought of praying to a human god, but I keep my resistance to myself. “What of the other warriors I traveled with?” I fight it, but my voice wavers anyway. “Will they have been killed?”
Ellian touches her hand to my shoulder. “Perhaps not. There is a chance.”
I sit up. “What do you mean?”
“There is a new leader in Ramsgate,” says Ellian carefully. “A general.”
A bell rings in my mind, and I shift eagerly in my seat. “Noam told me of him. General Marchess.”
She nods. “He was a foot soldier and fought at the Cliffs for years, then returned here to further his military knowledge. He has great power and greater wealth. He is known for having a fervent hatred of our kind, but also a curiosity about us.”
Hope can be kind and cruel all at once. “And?”
“If the humans who took your companions bring them to this general, he will question them first, not kill them. I don’t think he’d miss a chance to speak to Leonodai directly.”
I try to shake off my fears in favor of hope. “How can we know?”
Ellian looks at the window and at the dying light. “It’s too late to go now, and you still need to rest.” She gets up to tend to the fire. “We can leave for town at first light.”
“I feel fine.” I stand up to prove it. Almost instantly, my vision spins, the world shifting beneath my feet like I’m back on the train. Ellian eases me down.
“The flower is very, very strong. That’s why I don’t keep a lot
of it on hand—you never need much. I’m lucky to have any. Let it do its work. In the morning, we will go into town and speak to the women.”
My head feels heavy, but I manage a nod of understanding. “Will they share the cure with us?”
She nods. “The goddess they serve would allow it. To save children, most of all.”
“Okay. Ellian … thank you.” Settling into the makeshift bed Ellian has made for me, I fight to stay alert enough to make sure I understand all I’ve heard. I roll the fabric of the blanket between my fingers to ground myself in something physical.
If all works as Ellian says it will, getting the cure will be easy enough. From there, I should race home to the Heliana’s light, as urgently as if I’m answering the bells. My heart tears in two. The moment I have the cure, I will go, and I will go alone. Which means I’ll have to leave three of the most important people in my life behind, and I will never see any of them again.
32
CALLEN
A clang of metal shocks me out of a shallow sleep. A soldier sets down three bowls of steaming stew between the bars of the cell. Hunks of bread are precariously dipped in each.
“Eat,” the human says.
It takes me a moment for it to hit me that I understand him—yet another human who knows our words. How many more are there?
“Someone’s betrayed us,” I whisper once the soldier has left. “There is no other way a human could learn our language to that extent.”
“Let’s … think,” my commander replies. “And eat. If we get the chance to escape, we’ll need the energy to do it.”
The food is so hot it nearly burns my tongue, but I’m so desperate for food and the small comfort of a meal that I shovel it all down, anyway. The meat of the stew is tender and richly flavored, while the grains below it provide more than enough bulk to keep me satiated. It’s delicious, and I’m scraping my bowl within minutes. Reaching for the jug of water that was left in the cell, I take a deep drink. I focus on the water. I focus on feeling refreshed for the first time in days.
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