Chapter 24
Sage
O ver the past couple days, we’d flown with few breaks.
Sometimes, I’d feel my body grow weary and I’d fall asleep, dreaming of Von, our child, and the family we should have had.
In my waking hours, Artemesia would tell me about the lands we flew over, the history behind them—who lived there before and who lived there now.
She’d tell me about the empress’s laws and the ways of this realm, portraying it as a matriarchal society where men had no rights.
Talking with Artemesia was easy, simple, and even though we’d been split apart for thousands of years, our sisterhood had picked up right where it had left off.
We had a great deal of things to discuss, and I had dozens of questions I longed to ask her—about how she’d managed to survive all of these years, what she could tell me about my forgotten past .
. . if she knew why the empress wanted me dead.
And then there were the things that I wanted to tell her—about my life in the Three Realms, about Von . . . about the child we’d lost.
I wanted to tell her about it all.
But I was tired—both mentally and physically.
And I think she sensed that which was why she kept the majority of the conversation light. Something I was grateful for.
Apart from my exhaustion, I was hungry. Starving, to be exact.
The turkey leg and burnt bun Avriel had delivered to my cell was the last semi-decent meal I had. Come to think of it, it was the only meal I’d had since arriving in these lands.
When Artemesia received word from the vuleeries that I was alive, she had left in such a hurry that she had collected only a handful of supplies. Which meant we had very little to eat. Something our protesting tummies made well known.
We reached what Artemesia called the Forgotten Mountains, a place she explained didn’t exist on any public map, because the mountains seemed to pick and choose who they showed themselves to—who they allowed to live within them.
Artemesia said not even the empress knew of their existence, and that when outsiders came here, they would only see flat land.
When I asked her how that was possible, Artemesia told me she didn’t know, but it was like there was some exterior force protecting them, that perhaps the mountains were sentient beings, much like the Hollow Tree .
The setting sun illuminated the wintery snowscape, causing it to glitter as if it were crafted from millions of tiny diamonds. Although the temperature was not nearly as cold as it could get back in Meristone, it still was cold enough that my teeth began to chatter.
“There’s a saddlebag behind you, on your right. You’ll find a cloak and a spare pair of boots in it,” Artemesia spoke over her shoulder as she steered Vatara forward. “They should fit you.”
Shifting, I looked behind me, located the saddlebag, and began to search through it.
Soft fur brushed against my fingers. Grabbing onto it, I pulled the cloak from the leather bag and put it on.
My body shuddered in response, thankful for its warmth.
Next, I located the boots. They were brown in color, crafted from animal hide and trimmed with rabbit fur.
I tucked them under my arm and closed the flap.
Trying my best not to go ass over teakettle and fall off Vatara, I took my time slipping the boots on.
Artemesia was right—they fit perfectly.
Not long after, Vatara landed smoothly, the snow crunching under her heavy weight.
Artemesia and I dismounted.
Gently, Vatara nudged Artemesia with her beak, making a small, pleading squawk. Reaching up, Artemesia stroked her forehead, her gaze fixed forward as she said, “We made it.”
Nestled between the steep slopes of the mountains was a valley, bisected by a turbulent river partially covered in ice.
On both banks was an encampment. The round, small tents were crafted from a white fabric, making them almost disappear in the snow.
Despite the simple nature of the structures, there was something magical about what I was seeing.
A whisper of the past breathed itself into me—
There was something familiar about the tents.
Had I stayed in something similar in my past life?
A voice within me answered, Yes .
“Come on, it’s been a long flight, and I can tell we have much to discuss,” Artemesia spoke softly as she began to walk ahead, Vatara at her side.
I followed after her.
When we reached the edge of the camp, a young girl who was rolling a ball of snow jerked her head up, looking at us. Her face lit with joy as she offered us a big toothy grin. Scrambling to her feet, she raced to the tent closest to her and yelled, “Chieftain Artemesia is back!”
A man and a woman came racing out, their expressions shifting from concern to relief when they saw my sister.
The woman took the little girl’s hand while the man went to another tent.
Quickly, people began to spill out from it.
Two boys who came from that tent dashed to another.
More smiling faces emerged from the one they ran to.
This process was repeated until nearly everyone stood in front of their tents.
A man with chestnut hair and a sturdy build walked up to us and embraced Artemesia. “I am so happy you are back, chieftain.”
“I am too,” she replied, returning the hug before she took a step back. “This is my sister, Sage. Sage, this is Novack.”
Novack bowed his head. “It is an honor. I have heard a great deal about you.”
“All bad things, of course, like when you lost my favorite hunting bow,” Artemesia jabbed. She let out a dramatic sigh. “I still think about that bow to this day.”
A memory flashed before my eyes—of me and Artemesia in our shared chambers, in our family’s summer home.
“I didn’t take it,” I said as I stoked the coals in the fireplace.
“I don’t believe you,” she stated.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t take it,” I sighed, putting the wrought-iron fireplace poker in the cradle that held the rest of its kin.
“Did it just sprout legs and walk out on its own?” Her voice was sarcastic.
“I mean, it could have. It was enchanted, after all.” I shrugged.
She crouched beside me, the flames casting an orange glow across her face. “It went missing the same day you did. Just . . . tell me what happened. I don’t even care about the bow.”
“Sage?” Artemesia asked, her voice threaded with concern.
“Sorry, I think I’m getting some of my memories back,” I replied, letting out a breath of air that made a small cloud.
“We have much to talk about,” she said with a soft smile. Turning to Novack, she asked, “Can you let Millie know we’ve returned and have her prepare some food for us?”
“Of course,” he answered, leaning in to give her a kiss.
She didn’t move to meet him. Instead, she pressed her finger against his nose, smooshing it, and effectively stopping him from advancing any further.
For a brief second, he went cross-eyed, peering down at her finger. Redness tinged his cheeks. Retreating, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ll go see about that food.” He quickly scurried away.
When he was out of earshot, I whispered to my sister, “That was awkward.”
In agreement, Vatara let out a screech.
“It was,” Artemesia said, petting her. She lowered her voice. “I slept with him once and now he thinks we’re an item. I’m going to have to have a talk with him.”
Vatara and I nodded.
For the next half an hour or so, Artemesia introduced me to the clan.
They all seemed so relieved to have her back home.
I could tell they thought a great deal about her.
Somewhere throughout the many introductions, Vatara got bored, unfurled her wings, and flew off into the trees.
During our journey here, Artemesia had shared with me that Vatara hated being in human form—it felt suffocating to her—so ninety-nine percent of the time, her gryphon form was what she donned.
As night fell, Artemesia walked me over to a pair of tents and pointed at one. “That one is mine.” Her finger moved to the other. “And this one is yours.”
On the outside, the tent appeared to be no bigger than a carriage, but when we stepped inside, it was huge.
A light tinge of magic hung in the air, which explained the tent’s shift in size, as well as the radiating heat.
A few cabinets sat beside a table surrounded by four wooden chairs, an armoire, and a couple sizable chests.
A large bed covered in fur pelts, its frame made from stripped logs, sat off to the left, flanked by end tables.
“These should have some clothes in them,” she said, walking over to the armoire. She pulled the doors open, showing me the garments inside—cotton tunics, a few pairs of trousers, a jacket, and a white cloak trimmed with reddish-brown fur. “Nothing too fancy.”
“They are perfect,” I stated, moving beside her.
I ran my fingers over the various fabrics, thankful that there wasn’t one stuffy dress to be found.
Reaching the jacket, my hand stilled, recoiled, then reached out.
A lump formed in my throat as I ran my fingers down the sleeve of the leather coat, dyed midnight black.
It made me think of Von. A physical ache pierced my chest, stabbing me right in the heart.
Gently, Artemesia clasped my shoulder. “What is it?”
I gave her a sad smile. “It reminds me of someone I love.”
She returned the look. “I understand.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you want me to get a different jacket for you?”
“No, I like this one. I’ll wear it . . . for him.” The thought lessened the pain in my chest.
“Alright.” She patted my shoulder comfortingly.
“Excuse me, chieftain, but I have some warm food to fill your bellies,” spoke a woman on the other side of the entrance.
“Coming!” Artemesia called out, walking over. She pushed the tent flaps open, holding them so the woman could enter.