CHAPTER 29
DAVINA
Two weeks ago
THE WEATHER WAS BLESSEDLY TAME DURING OUR DESCENT. The sun shone through the three days it took us to return to the reservoir, and thanks to that water stream in the cave, we’d been able to refill our canteens. After the ordeals of Keftara, the trek back to Kamea felt like child’s play.
Such was my relief at seeing him standing that I didn’t even shy away from Armand’s embrace.
It had been years since we’d shared any kind of contact like that, but things had changed, and at that moment, I felt grateful for both of us to still be in one piece.
The bite wounds on his leg had scabbed over, the worst of them sealed.
Apparently, Kani had stayed to oversee his recovery, and the mischievous tilt of Armand’s lips told me the guide had most likely seen fairly more of my friend than his calf.
Kwabena’s greeting was short but warm and easy, much like the sergeant.
Unsurprisingly, the person I had the most issues dealing with was the captain himself.
It was impossible not to acknowledge how our rapport had changed on that mountain.
I knew I owed him for saving my life—repeatedly.
And I knew I’d eventually have to unpack the feelings I’d been tucking away, but it never seemed like the right time.
Mostly, I wished we’d stayed Centurion Lachlan and Captain Kentar. It would’ve been easier that way.
Rolla prepared a copious, deliciously warm dinner while we debriefed Armand and Kwabena on the journal and the records we’d found. Reports that described dealings with the infamous Kaelthorn’s cell.
That, too, I needed to process at some point.
Whatever hope I’d had of keeping them from Zephyr when I’d hid them under the journal vanished the second I lost consciousness.
Instead of resting, Zephyr had spent his time watching over me and going through every page of the journal and the records.
When we realized the date when Sircelen’s writing had become obscure was mere weeks before the first date of the registry, the truth became too obvious to bury.
Dr. Sircelen had been aiding the Sapless.
It was too big a realization to process while on the move, constantly aware that every step could end with me splattered against the base of Keftara. So, I buried it, along with the confusing feelings I had about Zephyr.
For Zephyr?
I didn’t know anymore. This mission had turned into far more than I’d bargained for.
One thing was clear, at least: the next clue to finding the hidden stash was somewhere in that sapdamned journal. And I was putting my money on the cryptic quotes Zephyr and I had spent the last three nights trying our best to decipher—with no luck.
Despite everything, it was still hard for me to trust him. Widesight and Kobra were not on good terms. That was true for all four nations in our divided world. But were they enemies?
Was Zephyr my enemy? If last week was anything to go by . . .
“Does it snow, where you come from?” Malena’s voice pulled me from my reflections.
We sat on one of the benches around the dying fire in Rolla’s front yard, hands wrapped around matching cups of spiced tea she’d prepared after dinner.
Armand and Kwabena had already retired to our shared tent.
Zephyr had stood to follow, but Rolla had stopped him, and they were standing near the main path, speaking in hushed tones.
It took a moment for Malena’s question to register. “Sometimes,” I said, distracted. “But not as much as in the northernmost region.”
“I have never seen snow before.” Dark amber eyes met mine, wistful and full of a long-buried ache. “I’ve never been allowed to go north, but I’ve heard the taller peaks of The Spine get a decent amount of snow in winter, too.”
A shiver ran down my spine at the mere memory of hail smacking against my skin in Keftara.
“You’re not losing much, don’t worry. Snow makes everything cold, wet and miserable.” I took a sip of my tea to chase the icy memories away. “This is good.”
Malena smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “It’s one of the few things I kept from . . . before.”
Before she was condemned to a lifetime of containment because of the ability inked on her skin, I gathered. “How long have you been here?”
“Twenty-four years.”
Cursed sap.
That was almost the span of my entire lifetime spent inside the wooden fence that outlined the camp-town. Inconceivable. And yet, Malena somehow still found the will to smile and care and love and share.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. It wouldn’t change a thing, but I needed her to know that I understood.
I understood why the king had taken such a drastic measure. Some perhaps might even consider it a generous offer. A mercy, compared to a real prison—or death.
And yet.
Her smile didn’t waver, but it deepened with contempt.
“Don’t be. It’s not a bad life.” Her gaze lifted to the sky, to the myriad of stars scattered across the clear night.
“It was this,” she gestured to our surroundings before settling on the wooden cuff on her wrist, “or forcing a daily Mahogany infusion on every single Kobrant alive.”
My brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“It’s just a joke.” Her shrug made the bracelets on her wrist tingle. I continued to watch her, hoping for more than that. She delivered. “Because wood works both ways, anyone having the source in their blood would have their abilities muted, but they’d also be safe from the effects of mine.”
Huh.
It was obvious why that wasn’t an option. No one would ever agree to a sapless civilization for the sake of a single individual.
“I had no idea.”
She huffed out a joyless laugh. “It’s not very useful knowledge when mind-abilities are forbidden.”
Right.
Footsteps broke the silence, and I turned to see Rolla walking towards us. She stopped behind her wife, settling a comforting hand on her shoulder. I took it as my cue to leave, settling the now-empty cup on the bench before standing.
“Thank you for dinner, Rolla. It was delicious.” Then, turning to Malena, “The tea, too.”
After we exchanged goodnights, I made my way across camp.
My arms were crossed in front of me the whole way, trying and failing to stave off the bite of the night.
It was thankfully warmer inside the tent I shared with the others, the heat of the day still contained within its thick canvas.
I moved toward my compartment . . . but stopped in my tracks when something caught my eye.
Sircelen’s diary had been left upon the small wooden table near the tent’s entrance, like a tantalizing meal left out for a starving woman.
I hadn’t slept in a decent bed in days, and was already anticipating the way the mattress would soften under my sore muscles, but . . .
Years of relentless drive and being trained to do whatever it took to succeed were hard to erase, sometimes.
For hours, under the flickering light of the single candle on my bed stand, I combed through every twisting quote Silvester Sircelen had written on smooth, cream-colored paper. Over and over, I let my eyes wander across words that had no obvious meaning or apparent relation.
People? Facts? Secrets? Places?
Exhaustion licked at my eyelids, but the hunger to know kept it at bay. And then, sometime in the middle of the night, deep in the Kobrant desert with only the whispering flame of a candle for company . . . it clicked.
Four diamonds on gold, light escaping flames.
The last was forged and darkness crawled.
Four diamonds on gold. Four. Diamonds.
Like four pyramids.
They stood like diamonds on golden sand.
Any trace of exhaustion evaporated.
Could it be?
Could this passage be a key for something happening in Kipiramida? A meeting point for the Sapless?
The last was forged could very well refer to the pyramid that was finished last . . . or to the one for whichever of the brother-kings had died last.
Darkness crawling could very easily be some key for the catacombs.
If that was the case, and all the other riddled sentences were references to where Sircelen stashed sap for the Sapless to find . . .
Blessed be the sap. The final clue had to be here, too.
My fingers trembled as I shifted pages, faster and faster, until the last written page stared back at me.
In the land where the moon cried, shadows come out to play.
In the dark, light reaches the furthest corners.
Dig deeper, for not all is lost.
Weather the storm, for once and for all the light will shine.
If light reaches the darkest corners was the code for sap waiting in some other network of catacombs . . . My breath caught.
I unfolded my wrinkled map of the continent. My eyes darted from Sircelen’s riddle to the map, over and over.
Come on. Come on.
Minutes later, I let out a strangled sigh. I didn’t know enough of Kobra to understand what the land where the moon cried could be referring to.
Much to my dismay, I’d need Zephyr or Kwabena for that. My fingers travelled across the expanse of Kobra, from the far North, where the land curved to take the shape of the head of the serpent that gave it name, to the South, where two islands hugged the southern edge of the Katerean sea.
The smaller was uninhabited, I thought, but the larger one, Kamar—
My heart skipped a beat.
I fumbled for my bag again, digging out the tiny translation dictionary I’d picked up from the capital and flipping to the letter k.
Kamake.
Kamanidi.
Kamaqan.
Kamar.
And written next to it, in small, neat script: moon.