The cool air stung my exposed skin. I was on the verge of retching from the pain, but I swallowed the tightness in my throat and switched my gaze from crying Marita to scowling Shan. “Your turn.”
“My turn for what?” Shan asked.
“You said you have a truth to tell, so tell it. I want to hear, and I'm sure she does, too.” I tried not to whimper as Marita redressed my abdominal wounds and turned her attention toward the more minor injuries. “You're a fool if you can't see that she loves you and is trying to ensure that a secret doesn't hurt you later. Your turn to be honest with us, Shan. Get on with it.”
Shan sighed and pulled a leather-bound book from a nearby saddlebag. As he flipped through the pages, he said, “I thought I had an idea of who ordered the extermination of my family, but now I'm not so sure. I need to add Lindaer Starbright to my list because it sounds like he has a reason to hate us. Do you think your brother did it?”
Marita leaned close to me and inspected my cheek. “Hold still. I'm going to take these sutures out. Just the ones in your face. The others need a couple more days. You're not healing as quickly as you should, but I think that's related to the blood loss and infection.” She rubbed her nose, then retrieved the alcohol vial and snips from her med kit. “And, yes, it's possible. My brother is a horrible person who has done horrible things to more people than just me. He thrives on chaos and control, so it's possible he could have arranged it just to send the Jade Realm into disarray. He's also disgusted by half-elves, so you being the heir is completely unacceptable to him, and it would enrage him if he found out we are together.” She dabbed at my cheek with an alcohol-moistened cloth. “Tessen, this shouldn't hurt much, but it might feel a little strange. Don't move.”
Marita tugged at my sore skin as she snipped the sutures and removed the catgut. It began with a small ache, but my face throbbed and burned by the time she reached the ninth and final suture. She cleaned my skin again and the coolness of the cloth relieved a small measure of the discomfort.
“There. Done. Iefyr does beautiful, delicate stitchwork despite the size of his hands, so I don't think it will look bad at all once it's fully healed.” She returned her supplies to her med kit and cleared her throat. “We're waiting, Shan.”
Shan flipped the book so we could both see it. The hand-colored illustration on the page depicted a fair-haired, turquoise-eyed elf standing in front of a bookshelf. A small red dragon sat on the floor at his feet.
“Someone drew Daelis. So what?” Marita asked.
“That's not my father,” Shan said. He slid his thumb from the bottom of the page to the edge, revealing a caption. Nylian Lightborn, 3842 (Fifth Age).
“Why does a fifty year old old illustration of the High King of Bacra look like your dad?”
Shan lowered the book until it rested on his knee. “Because my father is the eldest child of the High King's eldest child. Ranalae Nightshadow-Goldtree. I thought she was lying when she told me that Nylian Lightborn was her father, but now I firmly believe she was telling the truth. My eyes are pretty unique to the Lightborn family, and I share them with both my father and my grandmother. And Zinnia, our baby sister. Daelon was also a Lightborn, but that's no secret. Quiet to the point most people aren't aware of it, but not a secret. His mother was Nyra Lightborn, Nylian's sister. Of course, that also means my father's parents are first cousins, but that's not unusual in the aristocracy. Daelon wouldn't have known about their kinship anyway, not unless Ranalae said something to him, which I doubt considering how much she loathed him. Unfortunate, really, that last part. He was odd, but he didn't deserve her hatred.
“The thing that may have gotten the Goldtree family into trouble is the Bacran Ascension Law. No matter what, male or female, bastard or legitimate . . . no matter what, the High King or Queen's eldest child is their primary heir. The Crown Prince, Liantor Lightborn, is presumed to be Nylian's eldest child and rightful heir, but his claim can be challenged as long as the Goldtree line continues. With Ranalae out of the way, Daelis should be next in line, followed by me, and then Zinnia. Not that I want it, but simply being the ascension-line great-grandson of the High King puts me in danger. Ranalae said her father knew he was her father, so it's possible that either Nylian or one of his legitimate children has decided that we are a threat and ordered our elimination.”
“Whoa. That's a mess,” Marita said. I already knew about Shan's ancestry, but it was clear that Marita didn't.
“Yeah, I know.” Shan sighed and regarded Marita with lessened suspicion. “So, that's my secret. I still have no idea how we ended up in the Faelands, but I do have ideas about why someone wants me dead. I'm sorry, Marita. I'm not angry with you. I'm frustrated with our situation. Everything comes back to me, and that makes it my fault that Tessen nearly died saving us. Three times now.”
“It's not your fault.” I tried not to yawn. Yawning pulled on my healing cheek and made it ache. The spots in my vision were returning. I hadn't been lucid for this long since the honor fight, and it was wearing me down quickly. “I'm spent already. I think I need a drink, then I'm going back to sleep.”
“It will take a while before you feel like yourself again,” Marita said. She held a cup to my lips and tilted it so the sweetened liquid slowly trickled down my throat.
“Your turn, Tes.” Shan shook out a folded blanket and arranged it over me.
“My turn for what?” I asked once Marita removed the cup.
“You know our secrets. What's yours?”
“What's my secret? Do I have a secret?”
“Everyone does,” Shan said with a shrug. “We've trusted you, so you need to trust us. Let's make this fully mutual. Tell us something no one knows about you.”
I wasn't about to tell them my biggest secret, the one I had trouble admitting even to myself and had never once spoken aloud. I had some lesser secrets I wasn't keen to share for the moment, either. I couldn't tell them that Mordegan Vale had taken up training me with the sword where Mom had left off. I couldn't tell them that he intended to hire me as a mercenary, and thanks to my grief I'd considered the job offer until Mordegan noticed my poor distance vision and regretfully disqualified me. I couldn't tell them that Duchess Goldtree's handmaiden, a dark-haired half-elf named Eilie, had come to me after I thought my family was dead. She offered me a large some of money and a safe escape from Jadeshire if I assassinated someone important, someone whose name she refused to give me unless I accepted the contract. She was not happy with me when I refused, but she calmed after I revealed my vision would make me an ineffective assassin. Given the timing and some other poor, desperate sap's failed attempt, I later figured out that Daelon Goldtree would have been my intended target. No, I couldn't tell them any of that. I'd have to come up with something else, but what? I had no interest in lying to them, but I was too fatigued to come up with anything coherent.
“Tessen?” Shan leaned close as he tucked the blanket around my shoulders. “Tell us something.”
“I'm boring. Seriously, relentlessly boring. I can't think of much of anything, other than that time the window got broken and all the fabric bolts were knocked over in Grandpa's shop and I convinced everyone that those elven kids did it, the ones who chased me down and bullied me every time they saw me. They didn't. I accidentally kicked a ball through the window, then knocked over the bolts when I was looking for the ball. One fell down and knocked over the rest. I was afraid I'd get in trouble if I told the truth, so I lied and got the elves in trouble. I still feel guilty about it, but they deserved it.”
“Not good enough.”
“Damn it, Shan, I don't know.” I could hardly keep my eyes open, but I needed to control my tongue. “That girl you were crushing on a couple years ago came by the silver shop after you were kidnapped and tried to seduce me. You know, the human girl with the blonde hair and the big brown eyes? She was offended when I told her I wasn't interested.”
“You weren't interested in Sassenia? I thought every young male
in Jadeshire . . . oh, nevermind. You're not attracted to anyone, are you?”
“Not that I've noticed. Men, women, nothing. I find some people aesthetically pleasing, but not in a 'want to go to bed with them' sort of way. Not in the same way you do. Sassenia didn't appreciate my rejection and spread a rumor that I preferred orc men over human women. I was irritated that she thought someone being attracted to orc men was insult-worthy. I've never been attracted to an orc man, but I wouldn't be embarrassed about it if I was. Now all of her friends make lewd comments when they see me, but I don't care. I'm done with acknowledging lies and insults, and they can all go sard themselves.” A rogue yawn was chased by an equally painful wince. “Good enough? Please let me sleep. Everything still hurts and all I want to do is sleep. I told you, I'm boring. No interesting secrets, just a lot of boring.”
Shan narrowed his eyes, then grinned. “No one who fights like you do is boring. And no, that wasn't good enough, but I can see I won't get anything else out of you now. Go to sleep and try to heal a little faster. We're all bored with waiting around on this damned steppe. Nothing to do here but gather and gather and skin and cook and sleep.”
I wouldn't tell him, couldn't tell him, possibly would never tell him. I'd sleep and wake up knowing any secrets I thought I kept were only the delusional remnants of fever dreams. I was boring and honest and predictable, just as I'd always been.
Chapter 25
I woke to Iefyr and Ragan quietly conversing over the embers of the dying fire. It was dark and I assumed the other four were asleep nearby.
“You still love her, don't you?” Iefyr whispered. He prodded the embers with a stick, then grabbed several branch lengths from the fuel pile and set them on top.
Ragan stared into the fire, unmoving. “You already know the answer to that.”
“Sorry.”
“Keep it to yourself. She made her choice and I'm respecting it.”
I slowly raised my head and adjusted my weight so I was propped on my elbows. I was sore, but I no longer felt as if I was being ripped apart with every movement. I took a deep, achy breath and said, “Good morning. I'm hungry.”
A broad grin slowly brightened Ragan's face. The firelight flickered in his blue eyes, rendering them as golden as his mother's. “Well, good middle-of-the-night to you, too. Damned nice to see you with some life in your eyes again. You gave us all a fright.”
Iefyr helped me sit upright before he passed a cup of warm stew into my shaking hands. He touched my forehead and said, “You're okay now, but don't do too much or you'll slow down your healing.”
“Think you can try walking once you've got some food in you?” Ragan asked.
“I'd love to. Tired of pissing into a jar,” I said.
“Bet you are. Bet you'd like a hot bath and a night or two in a bed, too. Can't give you that, but I wish I could.” Ragan clicked his teeth and cocked his head toward the darkness. “Rest of them are sleeping in the starlight. We wanna get our asses out of here as soon as we can, maybe even tomorrow if we can get you on a horse without ripping you back open. My mother's been talking to some Wolverfae scouts. They've declared war on the Foxfae, so this whole plain's gonna be flooded with blood soon. Best we get out of here before anything happens. Wolverfae are big nasty shitweasels, but they've been leaving us alone. Only 'cause of you, though. They peeked in on you once to be certain we weren't lying when we said you were still alive.”
“Glad I'm good for something,” I said. I blew across the surface of my stew. It smelled of fatty meat and lemon balm, and it tasted oily and overcooked, but I was so hungry I didn't care. I set my spoon aside and gulped it down.
“Slowly, Tessen,” Iefyr said. “You haven't eaten properly in a while. You'll make yourself sick.”
A purring chirp came from behind my right shoulder. I reached back and touched warm scales. “Hello, Serida.”
“She's been sleeping behind your head whenever she's not hunting. We've been watching the worry in those odd eyes of hers.”
“She's bound to me and me to her,” I said. My hand stayed on her as she rose and moved into my line of sight. While I was busy fighting with fever dreams and wavering consciousness, she was busy growing. She had sprouted from kitten to small cat in size, and the luminescent bulb on her tail was bright enough to light the small radius that embraced us. “Oh, you're huge. You won't fit in the crate with the lid closed anymore, will you? What am I supposed to do with you when we're around people?”
“We'll think of something.” Ragan scratched his nose as he prodded the fire. “She's a good girl. Devoted to you, and she and her brother have been keeping the mice out of our provisions. Big growth spurts, both of them.” He nodded at my cup. “Done with that?”
“Yeah.”
“Let's get you up and walking around, then. Iefyr, grab his left side, I'll get his right. Be ready to hold his weight if he can't take it.”
Pain shot through my body as they eased me to my feet, but the agony quickly subsided and was replaced by a general ache. My head lurched and I closed my eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning.
“Easy, then. Let yourself adjust,” Ragan said. “Your mother'll kill me once she finds out you nearly died on my watch.”
“Come on. You don't really think we'll see her again, any of us. Not while we're alive,” I said before I had time to think about my words.
“Look at me, Tessen. Damn it, kid, open your eyes and look at me.”
“Don't be so morose,” Iefyr said.
“Tessen, look at me.”
I didn't want to. Opening my eyes was an admission that I believed I'd never see home again. I was hundreds of leagues north of anything familiar and everything was out to kill me. This was Shan's fault. If not for his absentminded thievery, we would now be hiding in Cypress Quay with the rest of our family instead of dragging ourselves and our friends through the northern steppes. We wouldn't be bound to these gods-damned dragons. I missed my mother and my sisters. I even missed Daelis and his odd sense of humor. I wasn't going to see any of them again and maybe it was time to accept that.
Or, maybe not. Maybe my temporary invalid state had triggered a bleak depression that forced me into hopelessness. Pain had darkened my fledgling optimism into a glittering dusk, a desolate northern midwinter that would only abate when the world revolved back into brightness. It was not winter and the stars above were only visible for a few short hours at this time of year. Late summer was bright, not a cold gloaming, and I couldn't allow this tiny slip of darkness to devour me.
Serida rubbed against my trembling legs. She let out three sharp chirps and nipped at my knee. I kept my head tilted downward as I slowly opened my eyes. She looked up at me expectantly and trilled, then rose onto her back feet and pressed her hands into my thigh.
“I'm a gods-damned bright and cheery bastard, aren't I?” I whispered as I scratched Serida's head. The careening world threatened to throw me to the ground, but I planted my feet and ignored the stars zipping about my peripheral vision.
“You've got some of those words right,” Ragan muttered. He sighed and squeezed my arm. His bright blue eyes sought mine, then narrowed as his vertical pupils contracted. “I'm getting you home alive. Both of you. Don't go being all doom and despair 'cause you're not gonna die up here or anywhere else. I'm not gonna let you, even if that means you end up with a patchwork of scars and a sour disposition by the time I get you back to Jadeshire.”
“Already got the scars,” I said.
“A few. You've got ample room for more.” Ragan nodded toward a dark lump on the grass beyond the shelter. “I've seen him, you know. You Sylleth boys are damned strong little bastards. Both of you. It would take a lot more than a couple deep cuts and some fever downtime to kill either of you.”
“Serida, move,” I said as I drew up my knee to step forward. “I need to walk a bit. Can't quite find my feet, though.”
“That's fine.” Iefyr pushed aside the tarp flap so I didn't have to du
ck to escape it. “Let us help you. It'll take a couple days to find your footing. Longer to recover your strength and energy.”
The scents of old blood and manure sat heavy upon the rippling sweetgrass. Rose softly snored, her bare feet defiantly extended beyond the fringed edge of her woolen blanket. She was slightly taller than Ragan and it was difficult for either Dannis to find a Jade-made blanket long enough to fully cover them. She didn't wake as we passed, though her toes twitched as if ready to strike. She snorted, then gasped twice and rolled onto her side. Her fingers brushed against her nose before settling into the loose tangles of Nador's hair.
Marita lay several yards away. Shan's jacket was balled under her head, but Shan was nowhere to be seen.
“Huh. Dunno where your brother got off to. Thought that was him. He's been wandering,” Ragan whispered.
“He has insomnia.” I was only ten feet from the shelter and was already having difficulty moving. The fatigue cut even deeper than the pain. Every step was a trial and every attempt to steady my balance left Ragan and Iefyr bracing themselves against my weight.
“Yeah. Noticed that. It's new, isn't it? He used to sleep through anything.”
“That was before he became someone else.”
Ragan stumbled over a divot in the earth, but his grip on me remained steadier than his feet. “He's still there, still himself. Lost in a cloud of pain and warlock mind shit, but he's still Shannon.”
“No he isn't. I don't know who he is. My brother died and now some poltergeist is wearing his skin like a shabby suit.”
“Revenant,” Iefyr mumbled.
“Huh?”
Iefyr rubbed his nose with his free hand. “Revenant, not poltergeist, if he's anything other than an eccentric kid who's been through some serious shit. Revenant is orc lore, a term for someone who died and came back. Of course, orcs attach all sorts of supernatural nonsense to the word, but most of that is just superstition.”
“Just superstition?” Shan's voice sliced the night as a clear and resonant bell. He was nearby, but I couldn't focus my eyes well enough to pick out his form among the stars and grasses. “Your voices are thunder. Death is loud, not quiet. Tessen, Tessen, I died, you speak the truth. Died, returned, lost and found. Dancing through a quagmire, feet stuck it the bog. Maybe a friendly will-o-the-wisp will guide me to dry land. The wisp isn't you, Tessen. Nor you and nor you, Iefyr and Ragan. Maybe you, Lumin. Stolen little light, will you help me escape this twisted marsh? I want to be me again. Not me now, but me then, ignorant, unmaimed me, not a ghoul, not a ghost, not a . . . revenant.”
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