52. Fight and Flight #2
Beside Larissa, Halla wrapped her arms around her chest as though to keep her heart from falling out.
Tears streamed down her face with abandon.
Kai stood behind her, in the shadows, watching.
To Anara’s surprise, the boy’s face glistened with tears, but his eyes were locked on the edge of the cliff beyond the pyre.
Anara’s gaze followed his, thinking of the rocks below.
Ishaan had searched the rocks, finding Calder’s blood, but his body had already been washed away by the sea.
Anara considered it justice. It was right for Calder’s body to be adrift, never knowing peace.
All around them, the cries of the mourners grated against Anara’s keen ears.
She considered changing the shape of her eardrums to block them out in the same way she wanted to filter the smells staining her nose, but it was right to experience the discomfort.
Anara had no doubt that Larissa would bring Darien back.
The gods had not created a love like theirs to be destroyed before it could bloom.
No, Larissa would go to Helheim, and she would return.
Even so, Anara’s heart wept the tears she would not allow her eyes to reveal.
She wept for Darien and the pain he’d endured.
She wept for Aeron as the boy she’d once loved, though she’d never had the bravery to say it.
She wept for Larissa and the death of who she’d been.
Even now, Larissa’s face remained unmoved as the cries mixed in with the crackle of the rising flames.
It wasn’t strength that kept Larissa upright or her eyes dry.
It was brokenness and the emptiness of loss.
The line of mourners went on as minutes dragged into hours.
Though Larissa offered Halla comfort, holding her sister against her side, her composure never cracked.
Anara remained beside her, accepting the condolences offered to Larissa.
By the time the last mourner had passed, the flames of the pyre smoldered in the darkened mass of wood and bone.
The sight of it made even Anara’s stomach heave in discomfort.
Her eyes stung with smoke, and her chest burned with every breath, but that too felt right.
Many, like Generals Ishaan and Aiko, remained in the shadows of the trees, but Torsten stood alone on the edge of the cliff, looking out at the dark waters.
There would be more funerals. General Sture had died in the battle along with many others.
Darien’s funeral pyre would not be the only one burning in the city; no doubt the smell would become so intense that Anara would have to shut her windows and plug the cracks to avoid drowning in the pungent odors and burning flesh.
Though Halla’s tears had dried, she sniffed occasionally at Larissa’s side.
Anara sensed Masai’s return before she heard him. Again that sharp scent of incense rose in his presence, but so did the more floral tones of his skin.
Masai’s whisper reached Anara’s ears. “It’s ready.”
The stiffening of Larissa’s body made it clear she’d heard as well.
Ever so slightly, Larissa raised her hand and lightly tapped Halla’s upper arm.
Halla’s eyes widened with awareness. Her sobs increased, and Halla’s hand clutched her chest with enough theatrics that Anara worried someone would notice their ruse. Then, Halla’s body slid to the ground.
Though Larissa gasped with enough conviction that even Torsten turned to look, Anara knew Halla was only acting the part assigned to her. Larissa looped her arm under Halla’s as Masai did so from the other side. They never looked back as they carried Halla away from the pyre and into the gardens.
Though annoyance crossed Torsten’s face, it yielded grief as he turned back to look at the oceans, as Anara had known he would.
With his back turned from her, Anara slid into the shadows, unsurprised to see Kai follow the others at a distance.
She frowned at the boy. He’d always been an enigma, but he walked after them like a man sentenced to death.
She stalked behind him, stowing away her observations for when she could examine them later.
At the front of the gardens, Masai passed off a large-hooded, floor-length jacket that Larissa wrapped securely around her body, hiding the elegant mourning gown.
As she tucked her hair back into the hood, Larissa could have passed herself off as any other mourner in the city. She bent down to embrace Halla.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll come back.”
“You promise?” The strength in Halla’s voice wavered.
Larissa brushed back the strands of blonde hair that had fallen in her sister’s face. “I promise.”
Anara looked at her feet, careful to not let her wariness reveal itself on her face.
If the old stories were true, Hel would not give Darien back without a price, and Anara knew Larissa would pay anything.
She could only hope Larissa’s bond to Halla would be enough to temper Larissa’s recklessness and bring her back.
As if she could read Anara’s mind, Larissa looked at her. “You’re not worried about me, are you?”
Anara smiled through the doubt, placing one hand on her hip. “Not at all. Just don’t make us wait too long. We have more kingdoms to reclaim.”
Larissa’s brows tightened. “I only have until the next full moon. Then we’ll know, one way or the other.”
Silence permeated their group even as the sound of mourners and the smell of ash lingered in the air, only to be broken by a faint rumbling and cranking noise that Anara would recognize anywhere. Larissa’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t?”
Anara’s smile was genuine. “I couldn’t let you go on your own.”
She led them out of the gardens and crossed to the far side of the courtyard. A familiar blue pickup sat parked in the shadows of the courtyard walls, its key already turned in the ignition where Masai had left it.
“I grabbed the supplies you mentioned,” Masai said to Anara. “I still say she could’ve taken a better truck.”
Larissa walked forward, letting her hand run over Helga’s rusted side. “There’s no better truck than Helga.”
Anara knew it was more than that. If Larissa went in Helga, at least she wouldn’t have to go completely alone.
Larissa pulled herself into the cab, ripping her mourning gown as it caught on the door’s edge.
Anara shut the door after her, hopping onto the side bars to rest her hands on the window.
“Get out of the city and head northwest. If Vereandi is meant to guide you to Helheim, it makes sense to start in her direction back toward Smaragd.”
Larissa pulled on the gloves that had been left on the seat, concealing her pearl ring. “You’ll take care of Halla?”
“Of course.”
“You’ll be able to handle Torsten?”
“I’ve had practice.”
Larissa nodded but rolled her lips together. “Anara, if I don’t make it back—”
“No,” Anara cut her off. “You will make it back, Larissa, not for your people or for some prophecy. You’ll make it back for Halla.
You’ll make it back for me, because I can’t lose another friend.
You’ll make it back for Darien, because if it came down to it, you know that’s what he’d want you to do.
You know that’s how he would want you to honor his death. ”
“I can’t live in a world without him.”
Anara handed over the gun she’d hidden under her jacket. “Then bring him back. But you better be with him too, or I’ll be making the next trip to see Hel.”
Larissa laid the gun on the seat beside her, her lips twitching. “I love you too, Anara.”
Anara’s throat tightened, and her eyes burned.
She stepped off the side bars, landing on the courtyard steps.
With garbled protestations, Helga’s engine growled as Larissa guided her away from the gardens, away from the palace, and down toward the Wall that protected Safír’s innermost circle.
As if unable to help herself, Halla’s footsteps followed after Helga’s truck, only stopping once Helga had gone from sight.
The night wind picked up, rustling Halla’s hair and pulling it away from her neck, revealing the scarred rune that seemed to glow under the moonlight.
Anara laid her hand on Halla’s shoulder, keeping watch as ash fell from the sky.