Someone gasps, breaking the spell. Meredy. She buries her face in my hair and whispers, “What are we doing?”
“You tell me.” Drawing back to give her space, I force myself to smile. “Welcome back, Master Crowther.”
I risk a look at my friends. They’re all gazing tactfully away. All except Valoria, who, glancing from me to Meredy, grins her approval.
Then she turns to Jax and starts a conversation that makes him laugh, his voice deep and rich. It’s a sound I haven’t heard since Evander left us. A sound that makes me smile, if only for a moment.
I help Meredy to her feet, gazing around once again at all the destruction. Smashed windows and broken buildings, bits of ash, lives in tatters. Only now I see the hope among the rubble, glittering in Valoria’s keen eyes, in Danial’s selfless hands healing the wounded, in the voice of the girl beside me as she whispers, “I wish Evander could see this. How we fought, and won. But I’d bet my mother’s fortune he already knew we would.”
Hand in hand, Meredy and I hurry to the shop fronts where Simeon and several children are sweeping up glass. One of the Dead, a slender woman with hardly any voice, hands us spare brooms and works quietly beside us.
It’s time. For change. To clean up all evidence of destruction, but not to forget the cause. It’s time to rebuild all that was set ablaze. And maybe, in the days to come, everything that rises from the ashes will be better than before.
XXXII
The palace courtyard is more crowded tonight than I’ve ever seen it. Standing around bonfires and feasting tables, commoners mix with nobles while Valoria’s younger siblings mingle with weather mages, beast masters, and healers from all over the province. And among them all, at every fireside, at every table, holding glasses of the finest elderflower wine and plates piled high with the tastiest dishes, are most of Grenwyr’s remaining Dead.
I watch the merrymaking from an alcove at the back of the courtyard, near the garden where, not too long ago, I sank to my knees and mourned the death of who I had once been.
In the distance, Jax and Danial escort Valoria around as she talks to all the guests as their queen for the first time, though she hasn’t yet had her coronation. And nearby, Simeon leads a group of children in a dance. One he’s making up as he goes along.
Tonight and from now on, there will be new dances, new recipes, and even new fashions on display, because this is the first Festival of Change in over two hundred years. It’s a celebration of everything new and will be the first of many under Valoria’s rule, she says.
Catching Simeon’s eye, I wink and raise my glass to him.
Time is a funny thing, I realize as I take a sip. I thought Evander and I had so much more than what we were given.
And that’s what we all want, really, from the newest child in Karthia to the Dead who have stayed around to witness many generations of their family: more time.
Just a few paces away, a shrouded female figure tries to embrace a hesitant, tearful boy about my age, perhaps her son or brother. She must be one of the Dead who has chosen to return to the Deadlands tonight, who’s using the party to prepare herself for moving on to whatever comes next.
After all, this festival is a night for celebrating their lives before Simeon, Jax, and I lead them through a glowing blue gate.
“Oh, come now! There’s no room for tears here! This is a party!” Valoria pushes up her glasses, glancing worriedly between the boy and the Dead woman.
The boy throws his arms around the shrouded figure at last, and I smile. I’m surprised Valoria’s brown eyes haven’t spotted what I can see already: that in between the boy’s grief and the Dead woman’s quiet sobs is love.
And nothing, not time or distance or the Deadlands themselves, can change that. Or even make it fade.
I’m no stranger to sadness. I still cry for Evander in the long weeks since he’s been gone. I can’t smell fresh-cut grass or leather without thinking of him. Of what we had. And what I lost. But I only cry because his love is still with me, a familiar ache in my chest. I’ll carry it with me, always, something no one can ever erase.
“So?” Valoria waves a hand in front of my face, making me jump. I don’t know when she got so close. “What do you think?”
She spins around, and it’s clear she means her new trousers and strange, stiff long-sleeved jacket, with its high collar, pointed shoulders, and gleaming brass buttons. It’s a far cry from her usual party gowns, and when I say so, she flashes a wicked grin worthy of Jax. “I know it’s not fancy. But it’s what I plan to wear to my coronation.”
“It’s just . . .” I gaze around at the massive crowd of living and Dead partygoers as I search for words. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it one of your inventions?”
Valoria’s eyes shine. “Not exactly. I found an image in one of the old books I saved, and I had a tailor recreate it.” She smooths the jacket and stands taller with pride. “I believe it’s what the master inventors used to wear. It’s hard to be sure, seeing as I’ve only found evidence that three of them ever existed, but—”
“You mean four,” I cut in, tapping her on the shoulder and grinning.
“Four, then.” Valoria’s face turns pink. “And how are you enjoying the festivities?” She waves to someone across the courtyard, then returns her keen gaze to me. “There weren’t any writings on the Festival of Change that survived, at least not that I’ve found. So all this”—she spreads her arms to indicate the biggest feast I’ve ever witnessed—“was my design. If the Dead like this way of leaving our world, we’ll do it again next year, too, for any that weren’t ready this time.”
I shake my head. “When do you find time to sleep? Don’t you have the Festival of Evergreens to organize before next week? Not to mention your coronation before that.”
“You know us Wyldings.” Valoria laughs. “We love a good party.” The light in her face dims as she adds, “But all good things must end, yes?” She gazes to our left, where Jax is organizing shrouded figures into a group for their departure to the Deadlands. “Looks like they’re preparing for the grand farewell.”
The Dead have eaten their fill, and it’s almost time for me and my friends to guide them through the nearest gate. But before they go, their loved ones are presenting them each with a gift to take on the journey, to remind them of the world they’re leaving. A ruby-studded hair comb. A worn storybook. A toy raccoon.
Valoria thought about suggesting that the Dead give their living relatives each a gift as well, until Simeon pointed out that their presence in our world is a gift. They’ve all been here to shape Karthia, for better or worse, long after they should have earned their rest.
Valoria leads everyone in raising a glass, making a toast in honor of the fallen. As my eyes mist over, someone taps my shoulder.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Meredy murmurs in my ear. “You seem to have a habit of disappearing on me at parties . . .” She slips her hand into mine.
I quickly pull away, grabbing a miniature berry tart from a passing tray as my insides ache with guilt.
Meredy frowns. “Something’s bothering you.”
I don’t meet her searching gaze. Instead, I shove the tart in my mouth and feign interest in the ceremony as more families step forward with gifts for their Dead, and my thoughts wander back a few hours.
Earlier in the evening, before the food came out, Valoria had people write down secrets on slips of paper and burn them in what she called the Fire of Letting Go. It didn’t make me feel any better to watch the words go up in flames.
I’m ready to retire.
Everyone else is making a place for themselves in this new Karthia, changing along with it. Valoria is a queen now, with inventions to dream up and festivals to plan, and new laws to write to protect the living and the Dead. Jax and Simeon are still partners, ready to decide with Valoria what their new
role as necromancers will be. Danial is training with the queen’s guard, having found a talent with blades. And Meredy . . . she has her pick of security jobs anywhere in the country with Lysander, but she seems set on staying in Grenwyr. Near me.
Trouble is, I can’t picture myself here anymore. Evander’s not an easy partner to replace in any sense, and I’m not sure I ever want to return to the Deadlands after I guide our Dead safely home tonight. I’m hanging up my necromancer’s belt for good.
So tonight, once the festival is over, I’m booking myself passage on the Paradise. Kasmira told me she’s setting sail for uncharted waters at dawn, and I’ll be on board.
I guess that means I’m changing, too. Evander’s dream has become mine, and I’m ready to learn what lies beyond the walls we put up to shut out the rest of the world for so long.
But first, I owe a goodbye to Meredy, who’s still standing by my side after everything. “You’re right. Something is bothering me.” I nod to the garden archway. “Walk with me for a little while?”
She grabs a glass of amber liquid from a servant and drains half before responding. “There’s . . . something I need to tell you, too, come to think of it.”
She leans in, her face alarmingly close to mine, and I take a step back. There’s a wildness in her eyes that makes my heart beat double, and I realize I’m not ready to hear what’s about to spill from her lips. Especially not when all I want to say is goodbye.
Turning, I flag down the nearest tray of berry tarts, plucking the entire platter from the hands of a startled serving boy. “Thanks!” I call as I present it to Meredy, who looks paler than she did a moment ago.
“You have to try these, they’re excellent.” I grin to cover the hollowness of my words, and shove the tray at Meredy.
But her attention has roamed elsewhere, lost in the heart of the crowd.
All around us, people are finally letting their Dead go. Listening to them, I should understand the language of farewell. I should be able to say a proper goodbye to Valoria, Jax, and Simeon—to Meredy—rather than slipping away in the dead of night. But maybe I don’t understand farewells because that’s not what they’re really saying—their murmurs and embraces seem to mean, “See you later.”
And that’s just what I’ll say to Karthia and everyone I’ve come to love here.
But for now, it’s time for one last job. Time to lead the Dead home.
XXXIII
The palace is too quiet this late at night, even with the many preparations being made for Valoria’s coronation. I put a borrowed bag of Jax’s on my bed, one he’ll never realize I snuck from his disaster of a room, and stare hard at it as I try to figure out what to pack.
There isn’t much time. Kasmira isn’t expecting me, so she won’t wait, and judging by the deep indigo of the starry sky and the utter silence around me, I’ve only got a few hours to slip away unnoticed before the pale gray of predawn wakes the first palace inhabitants.
I toss Master Cymbre’s book into my bag. It’s the only place where she recorded her thoughts, leaving little imprints of herself across the pages, and I like that I can take her with me wherever I go next.
But I can’t take the rest of my friends along, so that leaves my sword, some clothes, and a bunch of jewelry I probably won’t need.
I pull a teardrop-shaped emerald pendant apart from the rest. It’s cold and heavy and sharp against my skin, a perfect farewell gift for Meredy. But how would she react? She’d probably dismiss the gesture as romantic, and I can’t tell her she’s wrong when I don’t even know what it means.
I toss it back in the bag.
A lump forms in my throat as I steal down the darkened hall to the guest room where Meredy is staying with Lysander while her sister Elibeth is busy helping repair the Crowther manor and other homes in Noble Park destroyed by Shades.
All is quiet outside Meredy’s door. No trace of light glows from underneath. Not even an occasional grumbling snore from Lysander.
I press my cheek to the cold wood for a moment and close my eyes. It’s hard to believe I once thought her a brat. That I was so befuddled by calming potions, I couldn’t see her for the warrior she is. I’m going to miss her steadying touch when I’m at sea, feeling off-balance around so much that’s new. Squaring my shoulders, I stride quickly away, before thoughts of her can call me back, before she senses the presence outside her door and wakes.
Slipping through an exit not often used, I sling my bag over my shoulder and start off into the night, off to explore the great unknown like Evander always dreamed.
* * *
The banners of the Paradise billow in a nighttime breeze, beckoning me toward the harbor. I take a misstep and knock over someone’s potted shrub, grinning guiltily because I must still be slightly tipsy from the Festival of Change. After fighting for our lives, we all needed another celebration more than we realized.
A glimmer of moonlight on sleek feathers catches my eye. I turn, gazing up the hill to my right, back toward the palace.
There, pecking the last blackberries of the season from a row of neatly tended bushes under cover of darkness, is a pet peacock with a suspiciously crooked wing.
I raise a hand in greeting. The bird stretches out its long neck and squawks in return. I haven’t broken it after all, only changed it in my moment of carelessness, for better or worse, like Karthia was changed by the actions of a madman.
“I’m really sorry,” I whisper. But sensing movement on the distant ship, I realize there’s no time left for regrets or apologies. The crew is preparing to set sail.
As I run toward my new beginning in the harbor, the salty night wind combing my hair, I realize there are some changes I don’t regret. Ones I’m glad for, even, like Valoria’s inventions—some of them, anyway.
By the time I step on board the Paradise, the sky holds a faint trace of gray.
“You sure you want this?” Kasmira asks, looking me over with mild concern after I explain my intentions and press a hefty payment into her hands. “You’ve been through a lot, Sparrow. More than most people endure in a lifetime. All I’m saying is . . . this is a big decision, and I won’t turn my boat around for anyone.” She smiles and squeezes my shoulder. “Not even my favorite people in the world.”
“I’m sure.”
I follow Kasmira to the sleeping quarters, where I stow my bag in the tiny room I’ll be calling home for Vaia knows how long. I sit on the narrow bed, resting my chin on my hands, trying not to think about anything more than why there are several extra bags shoved in the corner next to a table and water jug.
It looks like my hard-earned money bought me a bed in the storage room.
When the sky has lightened a few more shades, Kasmira raps on the door, beckoning me to the main deck in time to watch the ship pulling away from shore. As I reach the rail, my stomach does a flip. I stare at the sea below, unsure whether I want to watch Karthia retreating into the distance as we glide toward open water through the early morning mist.
“Are you sure you’re in the right place?” a familiar voice asks. “Because we’re not turning this ship around just because a highborn lady forgot her hairbrush. Or so I’ve been told.”
I whirl around.
I must be hallucinating again, some long-ranging side effect of all those calming potions, because she looks different than I remember. Maybe it’s the plain trousers and black blouse beneath her fur-trimmed cloak, or the kohl thickly lining her eyes. Maybe it’s her glowing skin, or the way her smile isn’t so tightly controlled, or that her wine-red hair is half in a braid, half down, falling in waves around her shoulders.
But when she cautiously reaches out to touch my arm and it makes my mouth go dry, I know it’s really her—the person I was trying most to escape, stuck on this too-small boat with me.
I open my mouth to shout to Kasmira at the opposite rail, to demand tha
t she turn the boat around. She catches my gaze and winks, and that’s when I’m certain there will be no turning back. This is really happening.
“Where’s Lysander?” I stammer, glancing around the deck.
“Making sure Kasmira doesn’t take any of his things,” Meredy murmurs.
“His things?”
She gives me a hesitant grin. “Bones, mostly. I packed a lot of tasty grizzly food to make sure he won’t gnaw on anyone here if the fish are scarce.”
I turn slightly away from her, deciding I need to gaze at Karthia’s familiar rocky cliffs for as long as I can. “When were you planning on telling me you were leaving?” I blurt out. Some of the crew turn to stare, and the back of my neck burns.
“You’re one to talk!” Meredy gives me another strange look, like she did earlier at the festival. “I tried to tell you, at the party. You were in such an odd mood, though, that in the end I thought it would be easier to say nothing.”
I think of the emerald pendant I almost left her, and nod. Then I frown as a ridiculous and unpleasant idea occurs.
“Were you following me? Is that why you’re here?”
Meredy draws herself up, her eyes flashing. She pulls out a tattered leather-bound book from inside her cloak and thrusts it at me. “This is why I’m here. And for your information, I came here straight after the party. You weren’t on board yet. Just so we’re clear on who’s following who.”
As I flip open the book, she adds, “That was my father’s. I kept it all these years because it’s the one thing my brother and I had in common.” She taps the open page. “These are all my father’s notes on Karthia’s provinces. His personal maps.” She flips toward the middle of the book, where the pages are blank except for a few water stains. “And these were waiting to be filled in by Elibeth or Evander—or me.”
Shaking, I lean harder against the rail, but that only makes me feel like I might fall overboard at any moment. I straighten. “Why now, though? Why this voyage?”
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