Chapter 65
—Moira—
Sitting in Dove Port with Rhior was wrong, but Moira was going to make it work.
He hammered against the wooden planks of the apartment, fixing the floor board by board.
Moira stared out of the terrace, watching as the boatswain worked the ship Kienna and Ash built.
Ash stood on the beach, arms crossed, nodding profusely.
This was a big moment. One Kienna should have been part of.
The sun beamed off the Lysiria, an ache tearing Moira’s heart to shreds.
Her baby kicked in her womb. She was sick and tired of Moira grieving, but Moira had too much to grieve.
She never thought she’d be mourning a fellow Guardian.
When the news traveled to Dove Port of Danek’s death, Moira erupted in a fitful storm.
Rhior tried to console her, but he was never good at that.
He only placed his hand on her shoulder when she heard, patting her pathetically.
Things were still awkward between them. Too much time had passed since River Storm, too many love stories.
Too many deaths. Moira didn’t know what to say to him that would right everything, so she let the silence stand between them for a while until they could ease back into each other.
Things wouldn’t be the same now that Danek had died.
Moira heard Baila was back, imprisoned in the Hidden City.
Broan went back to the Vikings, and Kienna was as much a shell as Moira when Tislin died.
She didn’t think they would all be together again, their paths even more jaded than they were before.
Her belly thumped. Moira relaxed and let the vision overtake her. It was like clockwork. She learned never to fight it.
Images flooded her mind. Nothing substantial to put everything together, but she held onto each one and committed them to memory.
A glint of silver-pierced, red-soaked earth.
Kienna stood with blood on her hands as a shadow stretched behind her.
A mountain loomed, wind howling through its hollow bones.
Broan climbed toward its jagged crown, gold glinting briefly at his brow.
Then, two women stood side by side. Baila was rooted in stone, the other scaled in violet shimmer.
Tislin sat in darkness, fire before him dancing. Shadows clung to his back like wings. Another whisper formed through the air, singing of the power of a life-giver.
Moira turned away from the window. Her visions never made sense, and there was nothing she could do with any of them. The only one who ever helped her figure them out was gone.
“Let me help you,” she said to Rhior, handing him a nail to finish the floors.
—Broan—
Broan made a point to stop at the Meadhouse at the base of the mountains.
Despite Ingrid’s protests, he needed the EitrAle to survive the journey.
Ithril remained close by, sitting in a corner and watching for River Storm soldiers.
Broan wouldn’t be on duty that night to fight them off if they came for him.
There didn’t appear to be any. No sign of Jacob in sight.
Broan wrestled with telling Kienna about his presence. He didn’t think it would do any good. Jacob didn’t want to be found. Broan drank to his heart’s desire and honored Danek in the only way he knew how. Slamming one more drink, he went to the corner of the room and sat. “Hey, Tightstrings.”
Ithril lifted her chin and gave him a half-smile. “Shall we look at the maps again?”
“Aye,” he said.
Ithril pulled out a book of paper filled with drawings of maps in detail from the Whiteridge Mountains all the way to the Elvish Mountains.
She pointed to Silverthorne and drew a line beyond.
“We call the southern lands Eron Talor. It has other names, but to the Elvish, it means to cast out.” Ithril drew a new map on a blank page.
“I don’t know how far it goes, but it’s divided into three sections. Would you like to know them?”
“No,” Broan said, sighing. “One day, but not today. Sorry, Tightstrings.”
Ithril set her notebook down and brushed Broan’s hand. “It’s okay, Broan. We can sit quietly.”
Broan glanced at Ithril, and the stone inside his chest cracked, if only a little.
—Baila—
The prisons in Trinity were nowhere near those in River Storm.
They probably would have been for the Elvish, but Baila saw worse.
She sat in a small pod underneath the trees, watching dust motes float around her.
Little ribbons of light poked through holes in the ground. She stared at them and sighed.
“They’ll forget about you down here,” rasped a man in a pod farther down from her. She couldn’t see him. It sounded like he’d been in the darkness for a lot longer than he should have been. “Thought you should know. You keep staring up through the holes, and it won’t make a difference.”
“That’s okay.” Baila slumped against the wall of her pod. “I deserve to be forgotten.”
The man grunted. “Welcome, then, to those who deserve to be here. It’s nice to have company. What’s your name?”
“Baila. How long have you been down here?”
A beat of silence passed between them. When Baila figured he wouldn’t respond, he said, “Too long to remember. I kept track for a while with the ebbing of the light, but when you’ve been down here as long as I have, it’s more depressing to know than it is not to.”
That life sounded tiresome. Baila prepared herself to live it. She got comfortable against the ground and watched the traced light again. “What’s your name?”
A loud sigh carried through the roots of the trees above them. “You can call me Thal.”
“Thal.” She said the words and let them settle within her.
She was interested to learn more about Thal, if not for the very reason he would be her prison mate for the rest of eternity.
No one came to see her since Broan handed her off to the Elvish.
It was the queen’s guard that took her down, deep into the roots.
Baila figured it was maybe five days’ time that she wasted away, but Thal was right. Keeping track proved pointless.
“I betrayed my friends,” Baila said after some time. “I helped my father destroy the realm and let him use me as a pawn. Then he used me to kill someone I cared for. Probably the only person I cared for in the end.”
“Relatable,” Thal said.
“Did you ever kill anyone?”
A gruff laugh sounded, mixing with the humming of the trees. “I’ve done my fair share of awful things in the name of the Elvish.”
So, he was Elvish then.
An odd friend to make, considering Baila’s past, but she was far out of options at this point. She closed her eyes and listened to the earth feeding the roots curling around her pod. She reminded herself that there were worse dungeons she could be in.
—Kienna—
Talon was wary of letting Kienna fight another day against one of his soldiers.
She spent more time than usual on the training grounds, challenging the Elvish to duels and pushing herself beyond her physical abilities to work out the pent-up flood inside her.
When she could beat every soldier on the field, she found a mage in the Emberreign Islands to use magic against her.
The Elvish were quick to design yet another charm for her, a stronger one to weave into the existing design on her arm.
Her magic was too strong, they said. They needed to bind it further.
Seredai wanted her to relinquish it altogether, but apparently, King Vaerin’s magic tethered to hers made it impossible to pull.
He was ingrained so deeply that Kienna hated herself for it.
She couldn’t feel the smallest hints of power in her bones anymore.
Kienna accepted it for now. Knowing Vaerin still lived in there, attached to her magic, brought her pain.
She couldn’t bear it. So, she let the Elvish mage throw fire into her body time and time again.
At first, Kienna wanted to let the pain rush over her.
Let the flames scorch her into dust. Ruva convinced her to fight back instead.
If anything, she could grow stronger against the artistry of magic.
Kienna pushed herself and the other Elvish soldiers to the brink of exhaustion. They should have told her no, but being named an heiress to the throne had its perks. Saying no to her would have been like saying no to the queen herself…or so Kienna liked to tell them.
Kienna, Ruva huffed after the fourth time she hit the dirt. Maybe it’d be best if you slept first.
“Keep going,” she growled through her teeth. The soldier panted, blinking slowly.
Connak grabbed Kienna’s wrist from behind as she moved to attack. “You’ll kill him if you don’t stop.”
Kienna turned, rage consuming her. In the turn of her distraction, Connak motioned his head to the side to let the soldier go. He picked up his items and scurried away quickly, a limp in his gait from when Kienna found a way to hit him before he could throw another fireball at her.
“You need to stop,” Connak pleaded. “You’re not sleeping, which means Ruva and I are not sleeping.” Exhaustion consumed every bit of his face with black shadows under his eyes. “Please, I’m begging you. This is madness.”
Ruva huffed in agreement.
“I will never stop,” Kienna said. “If I stop, I won’t be strong enough. I can’t be weak like all of you. I will take him out.”
“By killing yourself,” Connak said, grabbing Kienna’s arm again before she could pick up her weapon. She pulled her arm forcefully but couldn’t muster enough strength to pull away. “I can help you sleep if you need me to.”
“Stay out of my fucking head,” Kienna growled again, finally releasing her arm from his grip.
Let him help, Ruva begged.
You’re of no help either! You couldn’t protect him, so you can’t protect any of us. Neither of you.
Connak eased himself closer to her again, though she readied herself to push her dagger into him to keep his pity from washing her away. “I’m begging you to rest.”
“And I’m begging you to stay out of my life.” She turned on her heels and stormed through the forest.
Walking alone, Kienna understood what it meant to be hollow and burning at the same time.
How Tristian walked around like a corpse after Tislin’s death.
She drifted through the forest, catching tiny glimmers of fireflies floating around.
Her breath caught, pangs of hope surging as she scanned for Danek’s face.
Her heart hung on the memories of fireflies. They reminded her of what she lost. They mocked her. When she realized the fireflies were not a trick of magic, but actual bugs, anger tugged at her jaw.
She squashed them and moved on.
Kienna reached her home and sat blankly for hours until night took over, eyes watching the sun drift away into nothing.
The moon didn’t come out that night. It was dark.
No stars. No light. Only bleak nothingness.
When the forest slept, she stood and entered.
She trudged through the underbrush, each step an echo of the weight she couldn’t shake.
At the forest line, where Trinity folded away, she watched the swaying leaves in the canopies. Ruva’s footsteps crunched against leaves behind her.
Stay here, Ru. I don’t want you with me anymore.
Broan is coming back for you. They all want to help you. They can figure this out. Ruva’s voice melted into a single, stern growl. There was no friendliness. No ancient guidance. She spoke with anger.
Kienna turned her head over her shoulder. I’m going to River Storm, Ruva. It’s my choice, and I’ve made it.
The wolf growled, baring her teeth. Then, she sat and howled at the dark sky. Of course, Little Flame. Then I will go with you.
Kienna stepped out of the Hidden City, closing her mind as deeply as she could.
She could barely hear Ruva through it, but the wolf remained by her side, no matter how faint.
If she was going to do this, she couldn’t have Connak tracking her.
Her heart and her mind folded amongst themselves as the Hidden City folded behind her.
In an instant, the connections to her vanished.
Not fully, she reminded herself. They were bound to her as protectors, but they wouldn’t feel her.
Kienna didn’t trust them to be protectors anymore. They didn’t deserve to feel her anyway.
She refused to feel them, too. They were all dead now as she turned toward M’Ran. She’d cross through the city once more before trekking back to River Storm.