Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
THE TUNNEL HELD. IT SEEMED THE QUEEN HAD ONLY brOUGHT down the ceiling directly above the cavern, likely to keep the path of her own escape clear.
Thia remained uneasy as they followed the twists of the labyrinth, the sounds of the crumbling lair muffled, then distant, then gone, certain that at any turn they might come face-to-face with her again.
The queen was clearly weakened, or she wouldn’t have fled, but Thia doubted any of them had fight left.
Oskaren and Dess were both covered in blood, a good deal of it their own, and she felt like with one wrong step she herself might pass out.
They didn’t dare collect their packs from where they had left them in the rocky outcropping.
When they emerged from the mountain, they crept directly to the ship, hunkering behind whatever barriers in the landscape they could find.
Thia was plagued by the thought that they should forgo secrecy for speed, terrified that the queen might find their vessel first and burn it to ash.
But when they reached it, the ship was just as they’d left it.
Oskaren helped her onto it, and then the three of them collapsed.
“Ship,” Thia managed, when no one said anything. “Take us to Losrohiria.”
It creaked into motion. The sea was calm, of that Thia was glad; she didn’t think she could take the threat of any more danger.
The sun had set by the time they reached the mouth of the river and disappeared into the canopy of trees.
Back under Losrohiri protection, Thia dared to turn away from the rail.
She retreated near the mast, head spinning, and pulled Mavrel gently into her lap.
After a moment, the others joined her. They sat in silence, the ship’s curve around ancient bends lulling them into calm.
Trees that had once felt oppressive were now guardians against the world beyond.
It was Dess who finally had the courage to ask the question that Thia had been shoving down since the moment Solanthe had revealed herself. “What now?”
What now indeed? Thia’s last hope of returning home had disappeared. Somehow she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.
The others were waiting for an answer. It was her quest, after all, her decisions that had led them here. Her mistakes that had killed Thran. She wanted the comfort of Oskaren’s arms, but the girl sat just out of reach, attention fixed on the shore.
“We should rest,” Thia said at last. They needed it, and it was much simpler to focus on keeping her body alive than the tornado of uncertainty swirling in her mind. “Ship,” she croaked. “Can you find a place to dock?”
The ship acquiesced, and they disembarked into a small clearing. Thia stared at it, suddenly wondering whether they should keep sailing, if somehow being stationary put them at greater risk. Dess laid a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped.
“Sorry,” he said gently. “I was thinking about building a shelter, but I thought the Losrohir might not take kindly to plant destruction.”
“It’s alright,” Thia said. The purple under his eyes, the dried blood stark against his pale hair, pulled her into the present. “The ground is soft.”
He nodded and spread himself out across the grass.
Thia, in turn, couldn’t think about rest, not while she was still coated in witch blood.
She took a step toward the river, only for her legs to give out.
The ground was indeed lush, so she wasn’t hurt, but when she tried to stand, her body was unresponsive.
She focused on breathing, then small movements, and managed to crawl her way into a seated position.
Large hands tugged her upright and remained on her waist to keep her there. Oskaren was frowning down at her.
“What is it?” Thia asked.
The girl’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
Thia blinked. Where was the girl who had cradled her face in relief just hours ago? Perhaps she was rattled by the reappearance of Solanthe. Thia didn’t want to consider the other option: now that the girl was free, Thia was no longer needed.
She let Oskaren carry her toward the river, though.
Dess cleared his throat as they walked, and Thia craned her neck to look back at him.
He was glancing between her and Oskaren, chewing his bottom lip.
She was amazed she hadn’t seen him for who he truly was before; they even shared the same mouth shape, the lower half only slightly fuller than the top.
He stood, shifting his weight awkwardly as he watched them, attention lingering longest on his sister. “I’m going to….” He trailed off. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t go far,” Thia cautioned, worried he might be concussed.
He gave a brief nod and walked away to give them space.
Oskaren brought her into the shallows of the river.
The water came just to her thighs, so she set Thia down in a seated position and kept one hand on her back to support her, while the other gently scooped water up and over her shoulders.
It hit the witch’s bite marks and stung like saltwater, but when droplets splashed against Thia’s mouth, it didn’t taste of sea.
She touched her neck to find the wounds scabbed over.
“The water,” she breathed. “It’s healing me.”
“Another gift of the Losrohir,” Oskaren said, fingers combing the sludge of Xercae’s blood out of Thia’s hair. She was still wearing that same frown, and Thia couldn’t bear the sight of it.
Revived slightly from the water, she took the girl’s wrists, halting her. “Ren.”
Oskaren’s throat bobbed, but she didn’t pull away. “I should have killed her.”
Thia turned so she could see the girl’s face, and tugged gently on her hands. Understanding, Oskaren crouched so they were at eye level. “It’s not your fault she escaped.”
Oskaren shook her head. “I hesitated. I could have ended all of this. Set us all free, if I’d just….” She trailed off, staring fixedly at the river where it lapped against the ship’s hull.
Thia brushed a black tendril of the girl’s hair off her forehead. “So you have a heart,” she said. “You’re not weak. You’re human.”
Oskaren huffed a sardonic laugh. “It’s not that. I think I would have enjoyed killing her.” She glanced at Thia, then away. “I know that’s not what you want to hear.”
“I want to hear the truth,” Thia said. “Whatever that is.”
Oskaren sank back so she was sitting properly, releasing her grip on Thia. “She was your only chance to go home. I couldn’t take that from you.”
Thia’s heart panged. “Ren. It was already gone. She was never going to help me.” She’d told Oskaren she wanted the truth. That meant she had to face it in herself too. After everything they had been through, she owed it to the girl before her.
She reached forward, river water rippling melodically as she moved, and paused just short of Oskaren. “Even if she would have”—she took a shuddering breath, deciding—“I am not going to leave you.”
Oskaren inhaled sharply.
It was a shock, Thia supposed, since all she’d wanted since she’d arrived was to leave.
And that desire was still there—she refused to live in a reality where she would never see Grandma Winnie or Riley again.
But going home wasn’t an option if it meant abandoning Dess.
Leaving Oskaren. She knew that now, in the aftermath of the queen’s destruction.
It was the truth that had allowed her to manifest that shield.
They were a part of her now, just as much as everyone in Kansas whom she loved.
She lifted her palm out of the waves and held it open. Oskaren watched the droplets trickle and fall from her wrist for long enough that her arm began to ache. But Thia stayed like that, letting the girl decide.
Then Oskaren placed her hand in Thia’s.
“Ren,” Thia began, closing her thumb over the girl’s fingers.
“You asked me once about my home. But it isn’t a place, it’s people.
It’s my grammy and Riley. It’s Dess. And, I don’t expect you to feel the same—that is, feel however you want to feel.
But you have to know, I mean, I want you to know…
” Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to hold the girl’s gaze. She swallowed. “It’s you too.”
Oskaren’s brows rose, that frown breaking for the first time since they’d left the Isle of Bones.
She pulled away, and Thia thought that was the end of it, but then both her hands came up to cradle Thia’s face.
She inspected her for half a second, maybe two, until, satisfied with whatever she found there, she pressed their mouths together.
It was not the fire and ice of their first kiss, when Thia was dying, and Oskaren was screaming from behind the wall of the curse.
It was infinitely more precious, languid, like the Losrohiri land had made them immortal by proxy, and time could no longer be wasted.
Oskaren’s fingers dug pleasantly into Thia’s ribs until she was breathless, until her own tangled in Oskaren’s clothes to tug her closer.
Thia traced Oskaren’s shoulders, her back, anything she could touch, pleased by the low sound Oskaren made in her throat.
Her hands found the tie that bound Oskaren’s short locks, and she moved to slip it free, only to halt at dry crust she found there.
She pulled back and pressed her fingers gently to Oskaren’s mouth when the girl tried to capture her lips again. “Are you hurt?”
Oskaren traced a finger over Thia’s brow and down her cheeks, like she was trying to memorize the shape of her face. A small smile tugged her mouth, though her eyes glistened like she might have just been crying. “It’s just a cut from the witch knocking me unconscious. I feel fine now.”
Thia wound her arms around the girl’s neck so that they were chest to chest. “Just fine?”
Oskaren paused as though considering. “Could be better—ah!” Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a mouth full of river as Thia pressed down on her shoulders, driving her under.
It took Oskaren less than a second to wrap her arms around Thia’s legs and tug them out from under her. Thia dove for the surface, and they both rose from the water, gasping, but full of mirth, which Thia clung to against the despair that hovered like a dark cloud just beyond.
“Come on,” she said, taking the girl’s hand again. “We should get you clean as well.”
Oskaren obliged, sinking into the river again so that Thia could reach her head. As Thia began to scrub the blood from her scalp, Dess emerged from the trees, his timing suspicious enough that Thia wondered if he had been listening.
“I know what we should do,” he said, a little tentatively, like he thought they might argue.
“What?” Thia asked, scraping a particularly thick patch of what appeared to be witch blood off Oskaren’s ear with her nail.
Dess chewed his lip. “We should find the Descendant of Lore,” he said, voice low. “The Ghost Queen.”
Thia stilled, meeting his twin hazel gaze. “Before Solanthe does.”
Oskaren straightened, water rippling as she stood to face him. “End this for real.”
End this. Meaning kill Solanthe, yes. But also—overthrow a kingdom. Return its rightful ruler.
Thia had never wanted some grand destiny.
She wasn’t her mother. But she thought she might finally understand a small part of her, what it meant not to be leaving something behind, but fighting for something ahead.
To make hard choices, not for lack of love, but to preserve something else just as sacred.
They were both part of her, Kansas and Eldris, because the hearts she lived in existed in both.
She didn’t care if she was the Storm Crow.
But she cared that her brother had a family. That Oskaren was free, in every way.
And Thran. Thran, who should have been there with them for this decision. Who had fought his way back from the consequences of Solanthe’s cruelty, just for her to crush him again. Who had died saving Thia, because she hadn’t learned this lesson fast enough.
So no, she didn’t care if she was the Storm Crow. But if becoming it would ensure that no others would suffer that same unjust end, she would do it.
She clenched her hands into fists. “Yes,” she agreed, looking at them one after the other. “We’ll find the Ghost Queen.”