Sadie
THERE WAS NO SUCH THING AS A BEAUTIFUL GRAVE.
NO AMOUNT of flowers could be laid upon the freshly turned soil to make the sight sting any less.
My heart filled with steel and ice as I stared at the mound of earth under which Asha would forever remain.
I never taught her how to wield a dagger. Maybe if I had . . .
No. I knew following that line of thought wouldn’t do anything to resurrect her. I also knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. She was a human, half my size, facing off against dozens of Wolves. If Haestas hadn’t arrived when she did, many more of us would be dead. Perhaps all of us.
We gathered in a circle, each taking a turn to share some murmured words.
I hadn’t known the smallest Songkeeper very long and still I ached with her loss.
She had been timid and shy at times, but underneath was a strength and magic enviable to all.
She had stood in battle with us, her arrows flying, and had done so until she was cut down.
With a little more practice and a few more years, she could’ve been mighty.
No, I thought again. She was mighty.
“For Asha,” Ora said, lifting their cup to the cloud-covered sky.
“Asha,” the others repeated as we all took a drink.
“We will listen for her song in the afterlife. May she sing us to her so that we may sound again as one.”
We all took another long drink, liquor burning fire down our throats.
I was about to turn toward the wagon when Navin started singing, then Ora, then the others.
It was a song I’d never heard before, though the language in which they sang was that of my homeland.
Wolves didn’t sing burial songs. Our remembrances were never so beautiful.
I huffed, trying to push away the morbid thought. By rebuking human traditions, Wolves didn’t only miss out on so much in life, but also in death.
I listened from where I leaned against a nearby tree, unable to participate in their mournful song but needing to bear witness to it.
Once again, I was reminded how different I was to the rest of them, not only as a Wolf but also as a person who’d lived most of my life in one place.
These Songkeepers were an eclectic mix of cultures, languages, beliefs, and traditions—a blended harmony that made something unique only unto them, something I would always be an outsider to.
When the songs finished, Ora announced we’d stay the night to sing Asha’s soul into the afterlife.
As the group disbanded, I felt restless and uneasy.
Needing something to do with my hands, I left to fetch Navin’s and my tent.
A gloom settled over the campsite as I found a barren patch of ground to erect our tent and I began solemnly staking the wooden spikes into the cold earth.
When Navin found me, he silently started working on the other side of the tent.
What was there to say? It felt wrong to break into idle chitchat and I hadn’t the stomach for strategizing in the aftermath of an attack. And if I spoke of Asha . . . I might very well cry and that was just unacceptable.
When we finished, Navin and I just stood there, staring at the canvas structure.
“She will be missed,” I whispered when Navin didn’t move.
His throat bobbed. “I fear we will be missing many more still, even if we survive this.”
My eyes saddened. “One more day and we’ll be in Highwick.” My breath curled into the cool night air. “One more day after that, and we’ll know if we’ve survived.”
Navin’s shoulders rose and fell on a mirthless laugh. He closed the distance between us, pulled me into his side, and kissed me.
“I wish I didn’t have to ask this of you all.” Regret filled my voice as I lowered from my tiptoes. “I wish I could tell you all to turn and run back south, but if you don’t join in this fight . . .”
“Don’t carry that guilt,” Navin said, rubbing a hand down my arm.
“We would’ve been here whether you were with us or not.
The Songkeepers can’t sit this fight out.
There might not be another dawn for our people if we continue to let Nero annihilate us one by one.
” He threaded his fingers through mine and tugged me toward the tent. “Come. Rest.”
I didn’t budge and Navin turned to give me a questioning look.
“I don’t belong here.” I swallowed thickly.
I waved back toward the firelight behind us.
“Not in Galen den’ Mora. Ever since we stepped foot back in Damrienn, I knew it deep down in my bones.
I am not a Songkeeper, Navin, and I never will be.
I can’t travel the realm with you like this. ”
Navin paused for a long moment before turning back to me. “I know.”
My brows pinched together. “You know?”
“I see every part of you, Sadie,” Navin said, making me feel stripped bare in a way only he could. “Every form. You were never meant to hide in the footnotes of someone else’s song.”
I shook my head. “So what, then?”
“If the world was different,” he asked, “if you could have any life, where would it be?”
I didn’t know why emotions constricted my throat. Perhaps it was the funeral and the generous cup of liquor, but the thought of being able to pick any life had tears filling my eyes.
“If the world could be anything,” I said, “I would flatten Highwick to the ground and build another Damrienn city anew, one on the very outskirts of Damrienn, in the heart of Aotreas. A place where people from every corner of the continent would be welcome. I would run through the mountains of pine forest every full moon, I would swim in the streams in the summer, and curl around fires in the winters. Not in Olmdere, not in Valta, not traveling town to town on an endless adventure. I would choose to plant down roots here.” My eyes lowered to meet his storming gaze.
“And you would be there with me, in this make-believe world. And we’d be happy and love each other deeply forever.”
Navin’s cheeks dimpled and he dropped his head, his hand sweeping to the back of my neck and pulling me into a soft kiss.
“But that world doesn’t exist,” I murmured against his lips. “And even if it did, it isn’t one you’d choose for yourself.”
“You make too many assumptions, love,” Navin said, licking into my mouth once more before pulling back and resting his forehead against my own. “Ask me what I want.”
I took a step away to look into his eyes. “What do you want?”
“You,” he said instantly, simply. “The easiest question of my life. The answer will always be you.” He held up a hand as I opened my mouth to protest. “Asha’s death has made things so crystal clear in my mind.
Tomorrow isn’t promised, Sadie. And whatever time we have left in this life, I want it to be by your side.
” He fished in his pocket and produced a velvet box.
“What is . . . ?” My hands flew to my mouth as he got down on one knee.
“I’ve been carrying this with me since Valta.
I thought I’d wait until this journey was over, but the truth is one adventure always collides into another when it comes to us.
And if the only time we have is now, I don’t want this question to go unasked.
” Navin lifted the box aloft, a smile on his face as he revealed an opal ring on a thin silver band. “Sadie Rauxtide, will you marry me?”
I gaped at him. “Navin . . .”
“Sadie,” he gently mocked with a smile. “You are already everything to me. You light up every corner of my soul. Let me be yours in every way. Be my wife?”
I was so overcome I could barely get out the word “yes.”
When Navin rose and pulled me up off my feet, a chorus of music began playing through the trees. We both looked through the dense forest to where the lights of Galen den’ Mora gently flickered.
“Did they know?”
Navin chuckled. “They might have suspected,” he said. “But no. This is how we celebrate Asha, with music and memories swapped round the fire until the dawn light breaks. When a human dies, we use it to remind us all to celebrate life. To not wait to act as we feel.”
“Many an engagement happens at a funeral in your culture then I take it?” I asked with a laugh.
“Indeed,” he said, pulling my mouth back to his. His hands roved up and down my body, fusing me to him.
We broke our kiss only long enough for him to slide the beautiful ring onto my finger. I grabbed him by the hand and tugged him toward the tent.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a laugh at my eagerness.
“I’m keeping with human tradition,” I said as I shoved him to the ground and straddled him. “I’m not waiting to act as I feel.”