By the time she pulled back, her face was as much of a mess as my hand had been. I pulled her up along my body and kissed her anyway, thrilled to taste myself on her mouth. We only parted when we absolutely had to breathe.
"Now what?" I asked, feeling a little more in control.
"We still have the rest of the night," Raisa said. "You can pack in the morning. Until then, I just want you."
My anger came flaring back, although this time, it didn't threaten to consume me. "We have more than the night. I'm not going."
"You need to go,” she said, gripping my arm and staring at me, pleading. “I'm telling you to go."
I shook my head, tears welling in my eyes. "Then come with me. The rebellion doesn't need you as much as I do."
Raisa sighed, cupping the side of my cheek and tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. "You know I can't. I'm too far along to go climbing mountains. Besides, I can help people here, at least in the healing tents. You aren't the only one who knows a thing or two about herbs."
"The healing tents? You're joking, aren't you? None of this would be possible without you. You figured out a plan to save us. You know the entire kingdom's history. You've earned your spot on the war council even more than I have." And that was when I realized the truth. Raisa was mine, but she wasn't just mine. The rebellion needed her, just like Princess Neva and my friends needed me. And Amendyr needed both of us.
I wept, releasing a flood of bitter tears, gutted by the knowledge that Larna had been right. "I'll come back," I sobbed, barely able to get the words out. "I promise I'll come back. I won't leave you again. I won't."
"I know," Raisa said, and I saw that she was crying, too. "I know, Tuathe. No matter what happens, you always come back to me"
Chapter Eight
Taken from the diary of Lady Eleanor Kingsclere
WE LEFT CAMP BEFORE the break of dawn, our moods as grey and colorless as the pale edge of the eastern horizon. The decision had been made, but none of us wanted to go. There was enough light for me to catch the haunted, resigned look in Cate's eyes and the tear-tracks on Ailynn's cheeks, but there was little time for goodbyes. Cate's hand slipped slowly from Larna's grasp, lingering at the fingertips, and Ailynn stopped hiding her face in Raisa's golden hair.
"I'm coming back this time," I heard her whisper as I passed them, heading for the bicorn saddled for me. "I swear, I'm coming back." Raisa drew her into a tender, heartbreaking kiss, and I politely averted my eyes. It was something I wasn't meant to witness.
While I swallowed around the lump in my throat, I felt a tug at my riding skirt. I looked down to see Jessith standing beside me, her tail sticking straight up in the air. "Do you really trust that thing to carry us?" she asked, eyeing the bicorn. "I know he only talks of racing and carrots, but I'd rather ride Brahms than this old nag."
My heart ached anew. The last thing I wanted to do was leave my beloved friends in someone else's care, but even the finest racehorses couldn't climb mountains. They were far too fragile to scale the Rengast's jagged peaks. "Raisa and Larna promised to watch over Brahms and Corynne," I said, although my voice wavered. "They'll be waiting for us when we come back." If we come back. "You don't have to come, you know." I scooped Jessith into my arms, letting her rest her front paws on my shoulder. "Raisa and Larna would take care of you, too."
Jessith whiskers twitched. "You're joking, Ellie. Raisa's sensible enough, but you can't honestly expect me to stay with Larna and her pack of wild dogs? I've come this far with you. I'm not staying behind now."
I was suddenly struck by how far from home Jessith and I were. This tubby tortoiseshell cat had followed me halfway across the continent and straight into the middle of a brutal war without a moment's doubt although not without complaint. I hugged her tight until a rasping purr started beside my ear. "I love you, Jessith. People who say dogs are more loyal than cats have obviously never met one like you."
Jessith's purr grew deeper, and her wet nose tickled my ear. "At least you recognize it."
"Ellie?" At the sound of my name, I turned to see Neva standing beside me. I was pleased to see that her color looked normal. She had felt well enough to eat and move about yesterday, but her second encounter with Mogra had visibly shaken her. "What's Jessith saying?"
"I'd best not repeat it," I said, noticing Cate approach from the corner of my eye. Her feet were dragging, and her shoulders slumped. All in all, she looked only slightly better off than Ailynn. "It's a good thing you can't understand animals, Neva. They aren't often polite."
"I would rather understand animals than put the dead to rest," Neva said. "It seems like a lot more fun."
It was a statement I could not argue with. "Hopefully, there won't be any dead for you to put to rest where we're going," I said with false cheerfulness. "Come on. Help me put Jessith in my pack, and we’ll get you on your bicorn."
Getting everyone settled didn't take long. I helped Neva onto her bicorn first, then prepared to mount my own. Before I could swing my leg up, a throat cleared behind me. I turned, expecting to see Belle, but Larna stood there instead. Her dark eyes were sad, but she smiled when I looked at her. She said something fluid in Amendyrri, and I was able to make out a few words. "Ride . . . help you?"
I gave her a grateful nod. I had learned a few things since crossing the border, although I was still far from fluent. "Yes. Please."
After a pause to make sure her touch was welcome, one of Larna's hands settled at my hip. The other took my arm, and she lifted me as if I weighed nothing at all. I was so surprised I almost forgot to swing my leg over the bicorn's back. Once I was seated, Larna let me go, giving the bicorn's flank an affectionate pat. He huffed, arching away from her in fear, and I stroked his neck to reassure him. "Don't worry. I know she smells like a wolf, but she isn't going to hurt you."
Like most animals, the bicorn wasn't surprised I could speak to him. He calmed down and snorted in acknowledgment, although he remained mostly silent.
"Ellie," Larna said, recapturing my attention. "Cate." She paused, as if searching for the simplest words. "Be watching her."
I tried to say I would, but realized my vocabulary was limited. "Yes," was the best I could do.
"Bad—" Larna used another word, but when I gave no sign of understanding, she struggled and came up with the Serian equivalent. "Dreams. Bad dreams."
At once, I understood. I had seen firsthand how Cate's visions haunted her. According to her journal entries, they had become a source of power for her instead of a constant fear, but I knew how terrifying they could be. "I know. I'll watch her," I said in Serian, hoping she would understand.
She seemed to accept my promise, because she smiled again before she left to speak with Cate one last time. I watched them whisper together, only turning away when another bicorn trotted up to stand beside mine. "Well, this is depressing," Belle sighed, glancing over at me from atop her mount. Her hair was pulled back into a sensible knot, although a few dark curls escaped and clung to her neck. "With Ailynn and Cate leaving their lovers behind, I feel almost guilty for coming."
"Please, don't. I need my valiant swordmaiden to defend me against the dragons."
Belle rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was secretly pleased. "Me? You're supposed to be our resident dragon expert. I'm just along for the fun of it."
"Right." I winced, shifting to find a more comfortable position. My blisters from the weeks of hard riding I'd done before arriving at camp had barely had time to heal. "Fun."
"It might seem fun once it's over. At the very least, it will make for a good story later. Just like when we met."
Belle and I hadn't been introduced under the best of circumstances, but I had to admit, thinking back made it easy to highlight the romantic parts and ignore the horrifying ones. "I hope you’re right. I've no doubt it will fill another journal or two." I gave her my best cheerful look. "Perhaps it might even inspire Lord Erato to write a new collection of love poems?"
A slight
blush tinged Belle's cheeks. "Perhaps it might at that."
By the time we started off across the plains, my heart was a little lighter. I was sad for Cate and Ailynn, but I selfishly allowed myself to take comfort in Belle's company. I couldn't help being grateful that we hadn't been separated, however unfair it was.
***
The next several days were a long, tiresome slog—worse than picking our way through the Forest had been. Amendyr's plains were empty, and every bit of landscape looked the same. If it hadn't been for the distant smudge of the mountains to the north, I would have gathered we were going in circles. But the red thread from Cate's hourglass led us onward, and we were always certain of our way, even if the paths seemed to repeat themselves.
Our party's mood improved a little after the first night away from Jett Bahari's camp, with one notable exception. Ailynn's sulking turned into a stubborn silence, and she hardly interacted with anyone, not even Cate. Getting a response from her was like squeezing water from a stone, and though I never saw her cry, her eyes were often ringed with red
It wasn't until the third morning that I managed to coax a single word from her at all. I came upon her sitting alone by the dying embers of last night's fire, slumped over with her elbows braced on her knees. Instead of gazing at her feet or off into the distance as I expected, I caught her stealing glances at the other side of camp, where Neva was admiring Belle's sword while Ulig supervised. The princess watched carefully, paying close attention as they demonstrated how to grip the hilt.
"You don't approve of her interest?" I asked Ailynn, taking the seat beside her. Although her solitary behavior didn't do much to inspire friendship, I knew Cate would want me to make an effort. If she said we would get along, I believed her.
"I do, actually," Ailynn said. A wistful look crossed her face as we both watched Neva stare up at Belle with a beaming smile. "I might not seem the type, but I'm fond of children, especially the curious ones."
"Neva is that." The princess regularly wrote a storm on the blank pages I had given her, and her journal had started to fill with random observations and silly anecdotes instead of only nightmares.
Ailynn sighed and turned toward me. "She just reminds me of Raisa. We grew up together. I was a few years older." She shook her head, as if chastising herself. "I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear about this. I've been bad enough moping around camp in the middle of the night instead of sleeping."
I gave her a smile that I hoped conveyed reassurance. "So, I’m not the only one awake in the middle of the night. That explains a few of the noises I've heard. I thought I was being paranoid."
"You should be paranoid," Ailynn said, a waver of fear in her voice. "Mogra has eyes and ears everywhere."
"You sound more frightened of her than you do of the Queen."
There was a long pause, and I could tell Ailynn was considering something deeply. "I am. There is nothing more terrifying than seeing what you could become if you gave into your worst instincts. The Queen and Umbra are abstract evils to me, like villains in a legend. Mogra is my mother. It's different."
"I understand that better than you think."
One of Ailynn's auburn eyebrows arched. "Oh? Don't tell me your mother is an evil witch, too."
"Not exactly. My mother is dead." Ailynn's face fell, and she began to apologize, but I continued. "However, my stepsister tortured me for almost a year and tried to cheat me out of my inheritance. I'm not unfamiliar with dysfunctional families. When the Queen turned Luciana into whatever she is, this war became personal."
Ailynn folded her hands in her lap, fingers lacing together. "Cate has told me a little about what happened to you both. Not in great detail, but I know enough. If our plan succeeds, I suppose it's a race to see whether her pack of wyr or your flight of dragons will be the first to end her."
A shudder ran down my spine. I still remembered how horrible Luciana had looked riding after us on the back of the shadowkin as we fled Baxstresse. Her face peeling apart at the seams, matted hair streaming behind her like a banner. "Cate is more than welcome to her," I muttered, shaking myself free of the memory. "I'm no warrior, and she has more of a claim than I do. Honestly, she still terrifies me."
"But would you kill her, if you had the opportunity?" Ailynn's stare was more intense than I expected, and I knew she wasn't merely talking about Luciana. "Even if you didn't want to? Wouldn't you feel obligated, knowing the pain and destruction she's capable of causing?"
I did not have to think about my answer. Preventing Luciana from committing her evil acts was one thing, but killing out of obligation was quite another. "I don't feel an obligation to kill anyone. If she were about to strike Belle down, or Cate, or someone else I loved, I would risk my life to stop her. I have risked my life to stop her. But I don't feel any kind of responsibility for what she does. I don't think you should either."
Ailynn looked away, falling silent for a long time. Eventually she raised her head, and to my surprise, the expression she wore was a grateful one. "Thank you, Ellie. You've made a few things clearer for me."
Quiet descended again, but this time, it was comfortable. Both of us watched Belle, Neva, and Ulig for several more minutes, until Lok shut down their spur of the moment practice and enlisted their help gathering up the supplies. Ailynn and I left our seats to help, and our schedule resumed as usual.
The landscape was monotonous as ever, but I did notice a change in Ailynn as the day passed. She managed to share a few words with Cate in the afternoon, and as evening fell, she pulled her bicorn up next to ours. "Neva, are you fond of stories?"
Neva's eyes lit up, and she bounced excitedly in front of me. "Yes. Do you know any?"
"Do I know any?" Ailynn snorted, pretending to be offended. "Of course. Everyone who lives in Amendyr knows stories. Which one will you have?"
Neva thought for a moment. "What about dragons? Do you know any stories about them?"
I turned toward Ailynn, hopeful as well. A story would be a very pleasant distraction.
Ailynn smiled. "Amendyr is the kingdom of dragons. I could tell a hundred stories about them. But there is one that comes to mind."
"Please, don't tell her the one about Feradith," Belle called out from behind us. "Nothing too topical, or too gruesome."
"We'll save that for another night. The one I'm thinking of is about a princess named Saweya, a dragon named Reagan, an evil king, and a very tall tower."
Chapter Nine
Taken from the letters of Cathelin Raybrook, edited by Lady Eleanor Kingsclere
THE MIRROR HUNGERS AGAIN. Her fingers feather along its golden filigree. The hot metal hurts and soothes at the same time, but she wants more. Always more.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
A ripple shudders across its surface. The biting scent of magic singes the air.
You, my queen, are fair; it's true.
But the princess beyond the mountains
Is still a thousand times fairer than you.
She pounds her fist into the glass, screaming. "Useless witch! Why did you choose her? She knows nothing of your needs! I could—"
No.
The mirror grows, stretching tall until it towers over the entire room. Black flames burn within, devouring every scrap of light until only one source is left: overlapping rings of silver and gold in the shape of an eye.
You will feed me. That is your purpose. If the witch has failed, summon her here to build our army. Our pet will hunt the girl and bring her heart instead.
She raises her hand, palm open, and the fire retreats. The smell of burnt magic dissolves, and a rotting, sickly sweet smell takes its place, thick enough to clog her throat. Standing within the embers is the witch's abomination, lips peeled back over its pointed teeth. It is beautiful and ugly at the same time. She loathes it, this undead animal the mirror has commanded Mogra to shape, but there is no other choice. What has been ordered must be done. The g
irl's heart must be harvested.
She does not address the creature by name. She has some pride left. "You will surrender your army to Mogra and find the girl instead. Once you have captured her and killed her companions, you will bring her to me."
"Alive?" The creature's voice is far more human than her face. It is almost chillingly pleasant.
"Bring her or her heart. I don't care which. Now, go. I can't stand to look at you."
She turns away, but she can still feel cold, sightless, sealed-shut eyes burning into the back of her neck as the mirror retreats. She is relieved. Her master may hold this dog's leash, but it terrifies her.
My eyes snapped open. Luciana. I could still see her face in the darkness. The sound of her voice had wormed into my ears and burrowed beneath my skull. Luciana is coming here. It took me several moments to realize it was the middle of the night, and I was curled up on top of my bedroll. I reached out, groping for the reassuring warmth that was supposed to be beside me, but my hand passed through empty air. Larna! My heart throbbed against my ribs, and my throat closed, cutting off my breath. I can't feel her. Can't smell her.
"Cate? I heard you screaming from my tent. Are you all right?"
I flinched at the sound of my name, old protective instincts rising to the surface. My skin crawled, and my muscles knotted as I prepared to shift. Then, I finally made out a pale face hovering beside mine. It wasn't Luciana, or Larna, but it was familiar. "Ellie," my voice cracked. I wasn't sure what had prompted her to look in on me, but I was relieved. Aside from my mate, there was no one else I wanted to see.
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