Forty
THIA SPENT THE MORNING ALONE, LEANING AGAINST THE STERN OF the ship, wrapped tightly in her cloak to keep out the damp.
No one knew exactly how long it would take them to reach the sea, but Oskaren estimated somewhere between a day or two on the river.
After that, the distance to the Isle of Bones was anyone’s guess.
Aside from her brief comments about the journey’s course, the girl remained at the front of the ship, pointedly ignoring the group.
Dess and Thran continued their perch in the middle of the deck, passing the morning with gentle conversation.
At one point Thia overheard Thran talking about the school he was thinking of starting for the children of Black Forest, if they lived through this, and Pagdan allowed it.
It thawed her heartache a little, knowing that happiness was possible for one of them, even if it wasn’t for her.
It was that warmth that gave her the courage to cross the deck to where Oskaren sat watching the water ahead.
The girl didn’t turn as she approached, but clearly recognized Thia’s footsteps because she said, “Not now, Faelyn, please,” as Thia extended a hand for her shoulder.
“I swear I’ll be the biggest bummer ever,” Thia promised. “I’ll make you miserable.”
Oskaren’s lips twitched, and Thia caught it just before it was gone, replaced with a huff as the girl clutched her chest. “Can’t you see your very existence is painful to me?” she said through gritted teeth.
Yes, Thia could. And that was why her own existence had become a weight as well. Because, if joy, affection, happiness—love—was the source of Oskaren’s pain, and Thia’s very presence hurt her, then….
Thia couldn’t finish the thought. It was too precious and too sad all at once, and she didn’t want to know if Oskaren felt that way unless the girl could say it. So she just pressed her palm to Oskaren’s cheek.
Oskaren leaned into the touch, surrendering a small sigh, then pulled away. And Thia left her to her pain, feeling like she was leaving a part of herself there with her.
At some point in the early afternoon, they asked the boat to dock so they could stretch their legs and relieve themselves. The rain had let up, thankfully, and what little of the sky they could see through the trees promised warmth.
Thran stayed on the ship to catalog the food Lythia had graciously stocked it with.
Oskaren made a comment about stretching her legs and set out into the brush, though Thia suspected she wished to be alone.
She stared at the girl’s back, contemplating following, until she saw Dess scoff in her periphery.
She whirled on him, irked by his judgement. Striding toward him, she crossed her arms and glared up into his round face. She could not heal Oskaren, but Dess was a more solvable puzzle. “Out with it,” she demanded. “You’re angry with me.”
Dess, to his credit, didn’t deny it. His cheeks pinked, and he inspected the ground. “What do you want me to say?”
“Why?”
“I told you,” he said, hands tugging his yellow hair so that it stood up all the more. “I told you she’s gone, and you still…” He trailed off, unable to finish, and she recalled that, for all his bravery, he was still just a boy.
“I know Oskaren is cursed,” she said gently. “I’m not fooling myself.” But when he still wouldn’t look at her, she frowned. “Is there something else, Dess?”
He studied the gnarls of the tree behind her. “It’s stupid.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “I bet it’s not.”
“It’s just…” He shifted his weight between feet. “We started this together, you know? You and I.”
“I know that,” she said, confused by what he was trying to imply. “I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without you. Not even out of Black Forest. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have even gotten into Black Forest if you hadn’t found me in the woods.”
Now he did look at her, and his hazel eyes were still guarded, but bashful too. “I feel like that used to be true. But ever since Huckleton….” He trailed off again, awkward.
“I’ve been neglecting you,” Thia finished for him, realizing how it must seem from his perspective.
He’d given up everything he’d known to help her without a second thought, not once but twice, even when it meant subjugating himself to the man responsible for the demise of his family.
And instead of thanking him, instead of wondering how that might have been affecting him, she’d been traipsing after someone who had abandoned him.
“I wasn’t going to say—” he started, but she cut him off.
“It’s true, though,” she said. “I have been. And I’m sorry.”
He expelled a breath. “I thought you were punishing me for Oskaren’s capture,” he said slowly. “And I…sort of thought we were a pair. But that hasn’t been true for a while, has it? We’re a quartet.”
“I’m afraid to say you’re right,” Thia said, with a small smile. Then she added, more seriously, “We never would have made it this far without them.”
“I know you’re right,” Dess said, a hint of his old joviality returning. “I just really hate Oskaren.” She could tell from the twist of his lips what it cost him, a jest to make a tragic situation bearable.
“It’s mutual,” Oskaren said, returning from the forest. The smirk she offered was pained. Just another piece of the mask that kept her walls in place to protect herself from the agony of caring. Or of other people caring for her.
Dess ignored her, turning his back as the warrior girl leapt back onto the boat in one graceful bound.
Thia looked between them, aching equally for them both. Again, she wanted to give Dess hope, to tell him his sister was still there. But how could she, when it would only cause both of them more pain? And she’d promised Oskaren she’d say nothing of what she’d learned.
They piled onto the ship, Mavrel settling atop the mast. The hours passed slowly in the monotony of the landscape, lush as it was. When night finally fell, they asked the ship to continue and set a watch rotation.
Thran was just rousing Thia for the final shift when the forest suddenly fell away, the river emptying into an expanse of gray.
With the horizon now on full display, Thia could see where a golden dawn was just beginning to devour the night, the sky directly above still a deep navy.
Waves lapped against the hull of the ship, choppier than anything they had experienced on the River of Dreams.
“The sea,” Thia breathed, wiping bleary eyes, as she sat up to water that was like charcoal under the dark sky. “We made it.”