Chapter 55
HONOR
As my horse followed Dewalt and his sister, and the sun warmed my bones, it was hard to believe my tumble into the frozen lake had only been two days prior. Petunia, the mare Dewalt had spared, was staying behind at the village to recover, and Saski had traded us one of her horses. This one was named Betty, and she was a bit older. With a golden coat and a blonde mane, I thought she was quite pretty. But the most important part—for me, anyway—was that she was docile. Dickey rode quietly beside me, eyes heavy because of the early hour.
The farther south we rode, the more earth lodges there were compared to cabins. Some appeared to be dug into the earth, stairs formed in the ground around them, while others were daintily plopped atop the flat land like the one we’d stayed in. Though it had been nice to sleep on a bed the night before, Saski’s cabin was far draftier than the earth lodge had been. Some of the lodges even had windows cut into the walls, and a few people waved through them as Saski went past. One couple even came out to say hello to Dewalt, their hair as white as fallen snow.
When he dismounted to hug them, I couldn’t stop smiling. These were people who had known him his whole life, and the familiarity between them made my chest ache. I’d have given anything to have people care about me like that. It would have been a blessing to find a group of people who would accept me with open arms whenever I needed it—no matter the time or distance. Who did I have? There was no one left to care for me that way.
Dewalt’s hair caught shades of deep brown in the sunlight. It was as if the sun had found offense in my thoughts, highlighting exactly who I did have.
It wasn’t just Saski who had come to our aid the day before. People all over the village had visited in order to say hello to Dewalt, and not a single one came empty-handed. We were well-stocked with so much clothing, food, and well-wishes, I couldn’t help feeling bewildered.
Dewalt’s niece, Astrid, had taken one look at my tangled hair, and insisted on brushing it. After she wove it into a complicated braid down my back, she’d begged me to allow her to put a cream on my face to help with the wind-chapped skin. It had smelled of mint and made my eyes water, but I had to admit, it made a difference. Something had grown lighter within me when she didn’t comment on my burns. She was older, close to Dickey’s age, but still. Age rarely prevented insensitive comments.
I liked the pace of things here. The capital was so much faster. It was colder, meaner, and far more indifferent. I wasn’t sure if it was just because there were more people, or it was more crowded, or whatever it might have been, but it certainly wasn’t as kind. The king might have had plans to change it for the better, but I knew he’d have quite a task ahead of him.
Abruptly, I thought about having a choice. I could live here if I wanted to, after the war was over. It was strange to think about. I wouldn’t have enough money, perhaps, to build a cabin or hire someone to help build an earth lodge, but it was something I could strive for—if I wanted. Although, there was a stark lack of trees. The single oak in my garden had appeased me while living in Astana, but I missed them. When I was small, still living in Folterra with my mother and the man who sired me, I was always outside. I could often be found climbing the trees, scraping my palms on the bark, or sleeping in the shade. Once, I’d cried when the leaves fell before my mother convinced me to jump in them. I had remembered it vexing my mother, how often I wanted to be outside, probably because of her desperation to keep him happy by hiding what I was.
It was in my blood; elves and fae were called forestborn for a reason. It would make sense to live near a forest. To think about finding peace and living somewhere which brought joy to my heart? It was hard to imagine, now that my choices were limitless.
Unless Vesta fell to the Supreme.
Past the last earth lodge, there was a divine statuary, and I smiled at how well-kept the stone gods were. Weather-worn, certainly, but each god and goddess had been gently cared for. Behind the depictions of the gods, wooden gravemarkers stood in neat lines. Two pieces of wood crossed to have four points representing the gods, the paint at each point fading on many. With two points pushed into the ground, the black paint for Ciarden and blue for Rhia was hard to see even on the fresh grave farther south. But the red for Hanwen and white for Aonara were more resilient as they pointed skyward. Dewalt dismounted along with Saski, and I kept Betty from approaching, wanting to give them privacy. When Saski had mentioned showing him their mother’s grave on our way south, Dewalt had only stared for a few moments before nodding, quietly telling her he’d like to do that.
I still hadn’t found the nerve to visit my own mother’s grave. With marble gravemarkers, the faces of the gods carved into the stone, the temple’s burial ground had always felt cold. Nestled between the wisteria and my oak tree, they’d buried her among the other mistresses and masters. Part of me had just allowed her to exist on the fringes of my memories, tending to the sick or gone on a long trip away. Seeing her grave would make it final. I didn’t blame Dewalt for not coming back all this time.
He opened the gate, looking back at his sister with a raised brow.
“She’s beside Pa,” Saski said, pointing toward the westernmost row. Dewalt only hesitated for a moment, as if he’d expected her to join him, before turning in that direction. Long legs cut across the patches of snow and yellowed grass as he weaved between the markers. Stopping at two graves, both with faded paint, he knelt, bowing his head.
“What do the old gods say about death?” Saski asked, soft, as she came to wait beside me.
I hesitated, grasping at the boundaries of my memory. “I am no expert, but from my lessons, I know the old gods preferred honor and conviction. As long as a person lived their life honestly, they’d be welcome in the eternal lands. Our gods require a bit more from us, I think.”
“It makes sense he converted then. He is fierce in all things he believes to be honorable and true, just like our mother was. I often wish I had their certainty.” She watched her brother, a small smile lifting her lips. After a few hours with her, I knew she found humor often, evident in the deep laugh lines on her face. She was more boisterous while Dewalt’s humor was more dry, but they were very similar. He was still crouched, elbows resting on his knees, but his lips moved as if he were speaking. “She died a few months after the last time he visited. Astrid doesn’t remember Ma or her uncle.”
I didn’t know what to say. Did she want me to condemn his choices when I didn’t know exactly why he’d made them? Instead, I clung to the last thing she said. “Astrid is a very sweet girl. She reminds me of the princess.”
“Lavenia?” Saski’s eyes widened, nearly making me snort aloud. Incredulous, her mouth dropped open as she looked at me. “Gods love my daughter, but she’s nothing like—” She shook her head, trailing off.
“No, ah, Elora. The king and queen’s daughter. She is very sweet, if a bit mischievous. She’s a couple years younger than Astrid, I believe, but I think they might have had similar upbringings.”
“Mmm, I keep forgetting about that,” she said, laughing. “For a moment, I’d thought you were speaking fondly of Lavenia.”
Blinking, I cleared my throat. “I have nothing but fond things to say about her. Though I don’t know her nearly as well,” I said, wondering if Saski knew the princess was missing.
“I’m surprised to hear that,” she said, and when she gave me a shrewd smirk, it finally dawned on me why she’d say such a thing.
“Oh, I-I do not know much about the bond they shared, if that’s what you mean. I just know it’s been over since I met him.” My cheeks flushed scarlet, certain she wanted to know how I felt about Lavenia having been a partner to Dewalt for a very long time. I saw Dickey straighten out of the corner of my eye, curiosity pulling him from his quiet tiredness.
Truthfully, I preferred not to think about it. It was well-known there was no love between them, so did it matter? But by that logic, did the events of the outpost matter? When he had touched me, and I had touched him? It certainly did to me, and I thought it had to him. I shook my head, trying to free myself from thoughts of the princess. It only invited a mad swirling of thoughts and insecurities, and I didn’t like them. Lavenia had been kind to me when I’d interacted with her, and that was more than I could say for most people in my life.
“That’s sort of what I mean, but I can tell when my questions aren’t welcome,” Saski said, not unkindly.
“You’re not unw?—”
“No, I am. My brother has always found me a bit overbearing.” She smiled, reaching up to pat Betty’s neck. “I do think he missed being fussed over, though.”
I grinned, thinking of his sheepish expression as she’d made us corn porridge for breakfast, telling me about the time he’d stripped naked at the age of three and rolled in it because he didn’t want corn porridge that day. There was such genuine fondness in her eyes that, though he glared at her, he softened within a moment. The corners of her eyes had wrinkled, and she watched him like she still saw that little boy who’d aggravated her all those years ago.
I knew if they’d looked at me then, they’d have seen it—the hunger. The desperate ache for something I’d never experienced. My mother had never looked at me like that. She tried, I was sure, but I was her burden and inconvenience more than anything else. To have someone look at me with such fondness for our shared memories? It would be a type of affection I’d never give up.
“I don’t think he’ll stay away so long again,” I said, swallowing down my hot greed, hopeful for both of them that I was telling the truth. I watched him as he moved to the other grave, his dark hair and clothing an inkblot against the grey stones and melting snow. When the rising sun bathed his face, he closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his chin toward the sky.
“We shall see,” Saski said, turning to look up at me. She was so similar to her brother, and I wondered if that was why I felt so familiar with her. They had the same dark brows, long nose, and high cheekbones. Her mouth was fuller and her face was more rounded, but her skin was the exact shade of copper as his. Those familiar dark brows pitched together in a way I’d rarely seen from her brother, and a soft concern stole over her features. “It’s something he’s always done,” she said, speaking quietly.
“What is?”
“I had a difficult delivery with Luka, and so when he found out I was expecting Astrid, he left right before she was born. He went to Astana to see the prince and waited to return until he received a letter from Magnus,” she said, placing a hand on my knee and squeezing. “And I’m sure you know what happened right before his last visit here. I think you know quite a bit about him, if I’m honest.” A knowing smile lifted her lips, as if she suspected more between us than just the king’s right hand escorting a ward of the Crown. She smiled at me as if I was his lover or his closest confidante. As if I knew every one of his secrets and all of his dreams, and it filled me with a brutal longing.
“I’d love it if you were correct—that he won’t stay away so long—but he’s avoided us since then,” she said.
I nodded, throat tight. He hadn’t wanted her pity, and part of me thought he felt he didn’t deserve her comfort. But it had been so long, I wondered what kept him away past his initial grieving.
“He runs when he’s scared, Nor,” she said, giving me a thoughtful smile. “It just means he loves us, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
Dewalt stood, tracing a fingertip over the wooden marker he’d knelt before. When he turned around, the sun burning bright behind him as he walked, my gaze traced over the cut of his jaw and the curve of his lips, and I held my breath. When he came to hug Saski and tell her goodbye, and when he gripped my ankle, asking if I was ready, I fought the urge to cry.
Her words, when given air to breathe and room to expand, felt like a warning.
I hadn’t thought about what I’d feel when facing Nara’s Cove, my eyes rapidly scanning the coastline as I searched for the ship which had taken me to Folterra nearly a year before. I knew it wasn’t there, but still, I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting back and forth as I pulled my cloak tighter around my body. Not for the first time, I wondered what happened to all the soldiers who had been under Declan’s command. With the boy—my uncle—hidden away on the eastern side of the continent, what became of those who gave Declan their loyalty? Had it all been forced, or had any served him willingly? I supposed those who served him willingly likely fought alongside the Supreme now. But the others? There had been kind soldiers in Folterra. Where did they go? Did they return home, trying to make up for lost time?
Nara’s Cove was quite different now. Gone were the fishmongers, who’d asked no questions when they’d seen a line of novices forced onto a ship. The stalls which held artisan wares imported from the lands far west past Folterra were gone. The only evidence they were ever there was the worn brick in the places they’d stood. The bustling port city had been scoured by war—those able to head toward the mountains had been gone for weeks. The fortress, farther north on the coast, where the cliff face grew tall, had been mostly silent when I’d been here before. Now, it was a hub of activity, soldiers pacing along the battlements to keep watch on the horizon.
“Gods, you look so much better than last I saw you.”
Startled, I turned toward the soft voice. “Marella,” I said, smiling at the girl as I took in the gaunt features of someone who’d been kind to me when I’d been rescued from Folterra. Bruises of fatigue sat heavily beneath her eyes, and her russet skin had gone ashen. Slim before her grief, she appeared almost sickly now. The tragedy which had befallen her father had bored into her flesh, rendering her emotional pain into physical. “It is good to see you,” I said. “I hope you’ve been kind to yourself.”
She swallowed, eyes darting over my shoulder to avoid eye contact. “After we find Aida—then there might be room for kindness.”
I said nothing as I pulled her hand into mine. Though it was considerably warmer outside than it had been, her hands were quite cold. “Do you have any idea where she might be?” I asked, uncertain if she suspected her father’s lover in his murder.
Marella’s jaw tensed, and she turned away, eyes red. “She could be anywhere. She could be in the eternal lands for all I know.” She tucked her arm in mine, dragging me toward the fortress. “Come. I can make you a bed in our chambers. I have to stop in and check on the blacksmith’s wife on our way. She’s with child and Rodney is so busy, and she says she can handle it because she’s not toward the end of it yet, but—sorry, I just have so much to do, and you don’t need to hear about all of it,” the girl said, catching her breath. “I didn’t know you were coming until a few moments ago, or else it would be ready now.”
“I should wait for Dewalt. Er, the general,” I said, turning toward the guard tent he’d gone into nearly half an hour before. I winced, remembering he was here to replace her father. “He shouldn’t be long,” I blurted.
Marella’s dark brows pulled in. “They’re already finished. He’s who asked me to fetch you. I was on my way to visit someone in town, but it can wait.”
Air whooshed out of my lungs, and I pulled my cloak around myself. Had he snuck past? Why hadn’t he bothered speaking to me?
“You’re safe,” Marella said, confusing my silence for fear. Although that’s exactly what it was, wasn’t it? Fear that Saski’s ominous words had already come to pass? “Since Papa, the soldiers have been overbearing. I’m glad for it, but gods, it can be a pain.” She smiled, giving me a weak laugh, and I nodded. I attempted to smile back, certain it was more a grimace than anything. When she tugged me toward the fortress once more, I let her guide me.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. I’m just...used to him being nearby, I suppose. Did he say where he was going?”
With a wave, one of the guards ushered the two of us toward the cliffside path which led to the entrance of the fortress. Loose pebbles on the steep trail made walking more difficult, so I concentrated on my steps, not wanting to fall to my death into the sea below.
“Jeb, my father’s second-in-command, had a letter for him from the king. Dewalt might be gathering supplies to leave.” Marella kicked a pebble from the path, and I watched as it skipped over larger rocks, falling down toward the unforgiving water.
“To leave?” The air in my lungs went cold.
“To check in with the soldiers my father sent north.” At my confusion, she continued. “He wanted to make sure the plains people were protected if the Nythyrians somehow came from Lamera. The farthest soldiers are over a few days north of here. Jeb sent word of...of what happened to my father.” She swallowed, jaw tight. “But we haven’t heard back from them. Dewalt might have gone to check on what happened to the messenger. Maybe that’s where Aida is.” She wrung her hands. “We’ve searched the caves, and we’ve come up empty.”
I stopped my own selfish questions, instead asking, “So you think she might be hiding at one of the encampments?”
“I can only hope.” Marella stopped, turning to face me. “I just hope she is safe. I’ve been sick with worry.”
I blinked. “You hope she...what?”
“She didn’t do this.” She snapped, indignation making her voice louder. “There was too much blood to only be my father’s. I think they were both attacked, and she managed to get away. I-I can’t bear the thought of losing them both.” Marella’s dark hair was in a loose braid hanging down over her shoulder, and she played with the end of it as she refused to meet my eyes. “The soldiers all think she murdered him. Jeb thinks I’m crazy. But I know she didn’t do this to him. She loved him. She loves me and Jesper. Aida wouldn’t do this to us.”
Whatever expression I wore must have disappointed her because she turned, walking faster up the path. A single sob bubbled up her throat, and I felt horrible.
“I believe you,” I called out. I wasn’t sure if I thought Aida was innocent or not, but I was certain Marella believed every single word she’d said. I couldn’t diminish her hope when everyone else was doing it for her already.
“Told you he was leaving,” she said, not bothering to respond to what I’d said. She pointed to the fortress, motioning for me to move as a half-dozen mounted soldiers came our way down the rocky path. Dewalt, in the rear of the group, slowed as they approached. I wasn’t sure what I expected of him. An invitation? I didn’t belong on a trip like this. But I expected us to speak about what we’d done in the earth lodge. What it had meant.
“Marella, Nor,” he murmured, eyes stuck on mine. His face was tight, as if he were in pain. “I’ll need you both to stay within the fortress while I’m gone.”
Marella made a disgruntled sound, and all I did was raise my brows as I stared at him.
“Back to giving me orders, general ?”
His nostrils flared but he said nothing, instead digging his heels into his steed. I didn’t let myself cry as I watched him grow smaller, leaving me behind.