24. Room and Board #3
“I know.” But my voice was tight. Everyone thought I was a god. The woman had looked so disappointed. They’d all feel that way when they found out I wasn’t what they’d been led to believe.
“You’re a good person,” Orla insisted. I bit back my guilt at the words. She wouldn’t be saying them if she knew we’d orchestrated Ferrin’s arrival and subsequent drowning at the Keep. “I know if we had the chance to help, you would. Maybe after we seal the Rift, we can come back.”
“We can’t,” Iseult said without looking back at us.
“I know, but maybe—”
“The Rift will be sealed. Whatever doorway leads to Keldori is going to be dangerous enough passing through once. It’s worth the risk to save our worlds, but the survival of the Sovereigns’ bloodlines are what keep the Rift closed.
To risk passing through the door again is to risk death, and for you to risk death before furthering your bloodline is to risk the Rift. ”
“Right.” Orla let go of my elbow and lowered her eyes. “Furthering my bloodline.”
I glanced between Orla and the back of Iseult’s headscarf, my stomach sinking.
“There’s options,” I said quickly. “For women in Keldori who want children but don’t want a husband.”
Orla snapped her head up to look at me, but Iseult sighed.
“I’ve told you before not to speak of Keldori here,” she said. “The less Skalterra knows, the safer both our homes are.”
Orla took my hand and squeezed.
“Thank you, Wren,” she murmured. “I’m excited to see what else Keldori has, especially since it’ll be my home too after the Rift closes.”
“And it’ll be better for it.” I squeezed her hand back.
The Great Willow’s veins of opal glittered in the sun that peeked between vines. The tree towered higher as we approached, and I arched my head back to watch the vegetation sway.
We stopped a few times so Iseult could ask for directions towards the textile market, and then we stopped again for a late lunch in a small plaza.
“Where will we live?” Orla asked between bites of her gravy and meat over bread. “In Keldori?”
“Probably Keel Watch Harbor where the Rift is.” I shrugged. “You’ll like it. It’s right on the water, and the train runs through town.”
“Train!” she repeated. “That’s your word for steamcart! I remember that one!”
“Careful,” Iseult murmured over her food.
“I guess if you really wanted, you could probably take college courses,” I suggested. “We’ll have to forge some documents and transcripts for you, but with magick, that shouldn’t be too hard, I think.”
“College?” Iseult repeated.
“Advanced schooling,” I explained.
“Skalterra has college.” She scowled, but then her brow softened. “Just, not in Tulyr.”
“Not in the Second Sentinel either,” Orla sighed. “Unless you dedicate your life to being a scholar like Cade.”
“If college is what you want, it’s definitely an option.” I nodded. “Or you can stay in Keel Watch. Or both. Sabrina drives her car to the next town over to do community college—”
“Drives her car,” Iseult repeated. “What do you mean?”
“Oh.” I sat back in my seat. “It’s like a small, personal steamcart.”
“We really shouldn’t be talking about this.” Iseult smiled, however, and turned to Orla. “What would you study?”
“There are options?” she gawked.
“Tons of them,” I laughed. “My mom studied language arts, and I want to study volcanoes.”
Orla and Iseult both snorted at that, and I blushed.
“It’s a little ironic, you have to admit,” Iseult said.
“Maybe a little.” I grinned in spite of myself and my earth-shattering magick connection to the geology of Skalterra. “Ciarán’s Nightmare, Liam, was studying architecture.”
Iseult furrowed her brow while Orla’s jumped.
“Like buildings?” Iseult clarified. “His Nightmare was in college for buildings?”
“At a really good college, too. Is that surprising?”
“I just didn’t figure him to be so…” Iseult trailed off, looking for the word.
“Artistic?” Orla suggested.
“Artistic,” Iseult agreed, then swore and pulled her headscarf lower over her brow as two men in red guard uniforms approached. They passed us, however, taking their food to the neighboring plaza table.
“We should get moving anyway.” I bowed my head beneath my cloak hood and went to stand just as a third guard hurried to meet them. I fell back in my seat, waiting.
“Lunch is over,” the newcomer barked. “All guardsmen to the northern gate.”
“I just bought this,” a gravelly-voiced guard complained.
“You and I both know you didn’t buy anything, Dirk,” the messenger said.
“Still had to work hard for it. You’d think these people would be more generous considering we protect them.”
“Protect them from what?” the third guard snickered. “No one comes to Willow’s Grave.”
“Today they do,” the messenger said. “An army, about three hundred strong, all gathered outside the northern wall.”
Orla’s hand gripped my knee under the table, and my breathing hitched.
“Did they say where they were from?” Dirk asked.
“The mountains, but I didn’t realize the mountain people had any armies.”
“And their leader?”
“A woman with golden magick,” the messenger answered with a chuckle. “And she’s looking for the Saergrim.”