Killian
Two days later, we left the Verdant Maw, or at least what remained of it, behind. Healing had taken a full day’s rest, and Ilaris was quiet, scribbling away in her journal while I dozed in and out of consciousness.
The treasure chest had bothered her—I was aware of that fact even though I didn’t want to examine why.
If it were important, perhaps she’d tell me, or perhaps she wanted to be left alone while she sorted out her conflicting thoughts and chose a path.
Regardless, I did not press her and put it behind me.
It felt good to be dressed in my princely clothes, the material cool against my skin.
The fabric was a unique weave, made for fire giants, meant to withstand the heat, and not burn away completely when I released my fire.
It kept me comfortable while normal fabrics held the heat within, making me feel sweaty and itchy.
Ilaris had left the new clothes and all the wealth from the treasure chest behind.
Instead, she’d donned her armor again, braided her silky black hair, and slung her satchel over her shoulder.
She walked out as though the chest had never existed.
So I packed a small bag, taking the gems, the box with the seeds, and one gown for Ilaris.
I took the moonlight necklace, not pausing to think of what I was doing, nor why.
The cave had been a pleasant respite, but there was no food, and despite the fresh water, hunger gnawed at my insides with increasing insistence.
Healing cost magic, and the release of that power left me furiously hungry.
I set a quick pace, but what Theron had done to the Verdant Maw had rewritten the landscape.
The forest we’d originally come through had vanished, and we walked across rolling green hills, each one just like the last. At each peak I scanned the horizon for a smudge of smoke or a blur of dark shapes, indicating a village, anything that might grant us food.
At the same time, a worry sat low within me.
That Maren would catch up with us again and decimate us with her vines.
That she would feed poison into Ilaris’s mind and drive a wedge between us.
There was already a rift, and with each step I felt it widening.
Why should she trust me when all my claims had come to naught?
And then there were the words of the scroll and its meaning.
I didn’t want to think about it, not when my mind was so confused with hunger and need, the desperate need for a break from the question of what it meant to be me.
From the loneliness of open space. From the crushing pain of being alone.
Theron’s reaction was more than hostility or unfriendliness.
It meant I might be wrong about the future.
It was possible that I had no brethren to assist me. I was, indeed, the last giant.
The emptiness stretched on. Jasper trotted ahead, sniffing the ground from time to time, leading the way in a northeastern direction. When I placed my palm to the ground to search for life, I felt a heartbeat in that direction, warmth. But the time it would take to reach it was ambiguous.
Ilaris walked a few paces away, braids swinging with each step. I watched the rhythmic pendulum of them, the way she held her shoulders straight, the determined set of her spine. She hadn’t looked at me properly since before we left the cave. Not since she opened my wedding chest.
I wanted to speak, to bridge the silence that had grown between us.
But what could I say? I had no words that wouldn’t sound like excuses, and she deserved better than that.
Maren and Theron had proven me to be a fool.
They’d broken the fragile trust between us.
Ilaris carried one of the gifts of the gods, a treasure she claimed to carry but had not shown me.
And then there was the scroll. But all of it was nothing, meant nothing, compared to her silence.
It was sunset when it appeared on the horizon, a low line of buildings catching the last golden light. Jasper barked, sharp and joyful, as though he, too, were relieved to be leaving this desolate paradise behind. Ilaris let out a breath as we pointed our footsteps toward shelter and food.
The closer we drew, the quieter the town became.
Odd. A settlement this size at dusk should have been spilling over with life, the laughter of children, the lowing of livestock, the clatter of work.
Instead there was only the wind threading down from the mountain peaks, and the low creak of shop signs swaying.
The village was larger than I expected, tucked into the shelter of low hills, a ring of gray-blue mountains rising to the north.
Its buildings rose two, sometimes three stories high, and the architecture was elegant, clearly cared for, the kind of place that was proud of itself.
But the upper windows were dark and shuttered, while the warm glow of lamplight came from the lower windows.
The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread drifted on the evening air, so potent I nearly stumbled.
But the streets themselves felt scraped clean.
A man crossed quickly between two buildings, head low, a short blade at his belt.
He did not look up. Boards had been nailed across one doorframe.
Long gouges scored the stone face of the building beside it, running the full length of the wall as though something had dragged itself along it.
Ilaris slowed, eyes narrowed as she studied it, her scholarly mind working although she said nothing.
A woman appeared in a doorway, a basket of root vegetables balanced on her hip. She nodded at us and pointed. “An inn’s just ahead if you’re looking for a meal and bed. It’s best not to linger outdoors. Not after dark.”
“Thank you,” Ilaris said, weariness in her voice.
The inn sat at the heart of town, a sturdy timber building with a painted sign showing a mountain peak and a crescent moon.
Warm light spilled from every window, yet two men in full armor stood on either side of the door.
They stepped aside with a nod when they saw us. I opened the door and led us in.
The sound of conversation and laughter poured into the street.
The scent made my mouth water. Roasted fowl, herb-crusted bread, something sweet and rich with cinnamon.
My stomach clenched so hard I had to stop.
Ilaris glanced back at me, concern flickering across her face. “You need to eat,” she said quietly.
“As do you,” I said, noting the way she held herself as if she might shatter at any moment.
A middle-aged man appeared from behind the bar, wiping his hands on a towel, which he tossed over his shoulder.
He was short, almost as wide as he was tall.
A mop of curly gray hair sprouted from his head, which was balding at the top, and he had the kind of face that smiled often enough to wear permanent creases at the corners of his eyes.
“Welcome, welcome!” He beamed. “What can I do for you? Food is hot, ale is flowing, and we have plenty of rooms.”
“Food, ale, and two rooms,” I said. Reaching into the bag, I pulled out one of the gems. It caught the light and held it. “Will this secure payment?”
“Killian,” Ilaris whispered.
The man’s eyes went wide. “I’ve seen some strange things in my day, but nothing like this. It’s room and board for a month at least, if not more.”
“We’ll also need food and supplies for a journey, transportation as well.”
The man held up the gem, nodding. “Now, I can help you with that. Best to leave this town as quickly as you can.”
“A meal, first, would be appreciated.”
The man pointed. “That way to the common room. Take any table you like. Food and ale will be out shortly. Rooms will be prepared, and I’ll provide supplies and transportation for you.”
“And a bone for my dog,” I added, thinking of Jasper. “He’ll be at the back door.”
The man nodded. “Anything you need, let me know.”
The common room was crowded, men and women in travel-stained cloaks, workers still dusty from the day’s labor, a group of younger folk clustered around a table, playing cards.
The air was thick with voices, the clinking of pottery, the scraping of chairs, and laughter.
After the silence of the hills, the noise felt welcoming.
So much life, so much energy. It reminded me of home, of walking through the king’s hall of banquets after a great conquest.
I felt curious eyes on us as I led Ilaris to a table, dropping the bag at my feet.
Ilaris sat across from me, slumping into the chair, her slender fingers tapping impatiently against the wood.
Her gaze shifted, studying, watching. Still avoiding me.
I thought of what it would be like to adorn her fingers with rings, to place a bracelet on her delicate wrist. To fasten the moonlight necklace at the curve of her throat, to watch it rest against her collarbone.
To see her dressed in silk, the soft material dancing over her curves, highlighting everything.
She looked beautiful now, but with my wedding gifts, she’d look like a queen. Like a bride—
I tore my gaze away before I could finish the thought. The lack of food was addling my mind.
A young woman appeared with a laden tray and slid heaping plates of food in front of us. Two pints came with them, something dark that smelled sweet. “If you need anything at all, just wave. I’ll keep the ale flowing,” she said, then moved away, stopping at another table to clear away dishes.
I fell on the food. Roasted fowl, thick slices of bread, summer vegetables swimming in butter and herbs. It was only when the edges of hunger faded that I glanced at Ilaris.
Her shoulders dropped, the tension bleeding out as she ate. She caught me watching her, lifted her mug in a toast, and drank.
A sigh left her lips as she swallowed. “Drink,” she encouraged. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”