Chapter 73 Durvla
Durvla
My gaze meets Osheen’s red-rimmed eyes as I mount Ghendor in front of the Dead Man’s Inn.
Osheen stands in the doorway of the building, his splotchy face drawn, his knuckles turning white on the doorjamb.
My body goes cold, and my throat tightens painfully as he takes a step forward.
Quickly, I turn away from him—away from the last surviving person from my old life.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to Tiernan, who gently nudges the black stallion’s sides and sends the horse into a canter.
I wipe my sweaty palms against my trousers, ignoring the tremor in my hands.
The more distance we put between the inn and us, the easier it becomes to breathe, but the more my chest aches.
It’s as though I’ve sawed off one of my own appendages.
Chiyo now rides Ffion on her own, her posture stiff and her face puffy. Despite Osheen’s betrayal, we’ve both lost a friend. Dawn is still hours away, and I’m grateful for the darkness. My head is still adjusting after the massive episode I had.
It set us back by nearly three days. I’ve cost us precious time—
Kilkenny gives my thigh a little squeeze as if to tell me to stop thinking so loud.
A couple of days go by with minimum stops and a few quick moments of rest beneath the stars. No dreams fill my nights, as though my body is too tired to dreamwalk, and while a part of me is grateful for the break, I long to know how Carys is doing.
We’ve not heard any word of Paramount. The kingdom doesn’t seem to be in any more unrest than usual, so we continue as we have been.
The terrain rises and falls as we ride across the land.
We’re riding across an extensive bridge as the sun begins to rise.
I squint, briefly catching a quick glimpse of the mysteriously dark loch that reminds me of Kilkenny’s eyes.
The thought alone makes me blush, and I swear laughter reverberates from him through my back.
We make it to the other side of the bridge. Somewhere around noon, we find a stopping point. Similar to Dubh Carrig, rolling hills and mountains surround us, but there aren’t any houses or stables. Or people, for that matter. Not as far as we can see.
Kilkenny helps me off Ghendor and holds on to me for a little longer than necessary. I don’t complain, of course.
He peers down at me thoughtfully. “You should try to eat something.”
I smile half-heartedly. “Now don’t start being all overprotective, Kilkenny.”
He smiles back and presses a kiss to my forehead.
I want to wrap my arms around him and soak up his warmth.
It would be so much easier to just pretend that Osheen didn’t betray us all and that Taig is safe and sound.
I suck in a shaky breath and Kilkenny gently pulls away, his face searching mine for signs of pain or injury.
I don’t bother to put on a brave face, but I assure him that I’m alright.
While we munch on apples and stale bread, no one speaks. None of us has the energy to talk about much. It isn’t until we’re getting ready to leave again that Alys signs, “How are you feeling?”
I shrug one shoulder. Numb at times, I want to say. Distraught at other times, and overall exhausted. Instead, I say, “My head still throbs a little, but I don’t want you to use any more of your healing. You’ve been spending a lot of energy on me, and you need it for the rest of this journey.”
She doesn’t argue, knowing that it’s true. Each time she’s tended to me, she’s drained a bit of her own energy. Still, just as Kilkenny did, she wordlessly assesses me for any signs of pain.
“Alys, I’m alright.”
She nods and slides her colorful headscarf back from her forehead. “When we get to the Verge, you need a nice, long rest.”
“We all do.”
She smiles. “Absolutely. We should be there before night falls tomorrow.”
To my surprise, it’s not relief that fills me, but dread.
I fight to forget Lord Iywan’s words— there were no survivors—and focus on making it to the Verge.
With other Mages there, it should be safe for me to exist as a Basduun.
But will I need protection, or will others need to be protected from me?
A slight shudder hits me as I tuck the terrifying thought away.
Still, I smile back at Alys before she saunters off to prepare Mirren.
Chiyo stands in front of Ffion, gently caressing the horse’s snout.
She looks my way as I’m about to walk past. There’s so much I want to say to her.
I want to apologize for the friendship that she also lost. I want to ask her how she’s holding up, but my mind fixates on the silver at the roots of her hair, even more pronounced now with the blue dye almost completely faded.
“I like your hair,” I sign to her. “The silver looks good.”
She makes a face. “I hate it. Mam was completely grey by the time she was twenty-two. So, I guess that gives me two more years until I look like an old woman myself. Or like old man Tiernan.” She smirks.
I chuckle. “You don’t look old. Neither does your brother, or even your mam.”
Kilkenny walks by, waving his arm my way before hurriedly motioning, “Are you two finished gossiping? Let’s go.”
I exhale heavily. “Killjoy.” The light that appears on his face is unmistakable before a smile crawls across his lips. The time I first accidentally called him Killjoy could be a lifetime ago. It’s unbelievable that it has been almost two months since I was taken from my home.
A multitude of emotions plays over his face. Before I can mull over it for too long, Kilkenny takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
I’m grateful for the gesture as it draws my mind away from our problems. “To the Verge?” I say.
He nods. “To the Verge.”
Navy blue clouds glide past the nearly full moon and I’m mesmerized by the gentle yellow-orange glow that lightens the otherwise dark sky.
I lean back against the tree, staring up at the scattering of stars while anxiety swirls through my mind.
Alys and Chiyo are asleep, but I’m unable to find much rest, so I volunteer to keep Kilkenny company while he takes the first watch.
He sighs as he plops down beside me with a magically lit lantern and holds out an apple. I shake my head. Not only am I sick and tired of apples, but I doubt my stomach can handle food. He sets the lantern down in front of us and signs single-handedly, “You have to eat something.”
I take the apple from him and turn it over in my hands.
“What’s on your mind?”
I offer him a half smile. “That’s an ironic question coming from a Whisperer.”
He grins, his high cheekbones accentuated in the moonlight, even beneath his stubble. He bites into his apple, glances up at the moon for a moment, and then faces me again. The question is written clearly on his face—he still wants to know what I’m thinking.
I heave a sigh. “I can’t help but feel like something ominous is coming.”
He pauses mid-bite and lowers the apple. “Anything specific?”
Staring down at my apple, I shake my head slowly. “Just … ominous.”
When I look back at him, his lips are pressed together before he takes another bite out of his apple. “Is there anything that you see when you have these ominous feelings?”
“No.” I sign more firmly than I mean to.
A silent apology ghosts over Kilkenny’s face. “I don’t mean to pressure you,” he motions. “Alys says that Dreamwalkers sometimes also have the gift of sight. Like an oracle.”
I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “No gift of sight here. It’s just … it feels wrong to make my way to safety when …” Taig didn’t have a chance. I cannot finish the sentence aloud, and grief grips me again.
Kilkenny nods. “I know.”
I’ve already let myself break once, and it was much needed. Now I need to hold it together until we get to the Verge.
Kilkenny tosses his apple core a small distance away, and I idly follow its trail as it lands in the grass.
My jaw drops. “How on earth did you finish that apple already?”
A small burst of laughter escapes him. “I was hungry.” He smiles and shrugs.
“You just started eating it.”
He presses a fist over his mouth to stifle his laughter, glancing at the other two who are still fast asleep. Then he scoots closer to me, the side of his hip against mine. He puts an arm around me, and I let my head rest on his shoulder as he holds me close. His warmth erases the chill in my body.
“I’m worried about Carys,” I say aloud.
His reluctance is evident as he slowly releases me and gives us just a bit of space for communication. “So am I,” he signs.
“I wish we could rescue her the way she rescued me and Alys. I hate that there’s nothing we can do about the horrors she’s enduring.”
“I know.” His shoulders slump, his jaw tightening.
My teeth sink into my lower lip. “Do you believe in prophecies? And don’t say ‘I know.’”
A small smile curves his lips. “I do.” He tucks a bit of stray hair behind his ear.
“Do you believe that Carys is an actual descendant of Agryna?” I sign. “Is that even possible after the Purge?”
He wrinkles his nose. “Perhaps.”
I squint at him as the teeniest of smiles plays on his lips. “How can you possibly be amused at a time like this? There is so much to figure out. So much I don’t understand. Carys is being tortured, and the whole kingdom may be in peril.”
There’s such a softness in his gaze that I want to weep again just as I had back at the Dead Man’s Inn.
“You cannot bear the weight of the entire kingdom on your shoulders. You place everyone’s needs and woes above your own until there’s no room for your own thoughts in there.
” He gently taps my forehead, and I sigh.
“It’s easier to focus on other people’s woes rather than my own.” The words slip past my lips without permission, and I cringe.
He tilts his head at me and puts his hand on my knee. “Then maybe you ought to share some of your own woes with someone. Perhaps a certain killjoy who happens to be rather fond of you?”
My chest flutters pleasantly. “You’re rather fond of me, hmm?”
“Did I say that?” He looks so bewildered.
Have I misunderstood? I frown at him, but then a slow, teasing smile melts onto his face.
I smile back. “Well … you’re alright, I guess.”
He grins, nudging my shoulder gently with his, but it’s futile to have any sort of attachment to this man.
Never in my life have I been physically attracted to anyone, let alone contemplated what it would be like to have a relationship that goes beyond friendship. Now is not the time for such thoughts.
Kilkenny fixes me with a troubled expression. “Durvla?”
“I … it’s trivial.”
“Your woes aren’t trivial.”
Gnawing on my lower lip, I stare up at the moon again as more clouds float by, eclipsing the celestial body repeatedly.
It’s oddly reflective of my life—my joy continuously obscured by tragedy, misfortune, or ill-health.
I have smiled in the face of adversity daily, tending to the plants back home in Cluain Baile, cataloguing, volunteering to make solo deliveries to Ballybaeg even though it sapped the little time I had left to wind down.
Ma had been my greatest role model. When she was alive, she took great care of us.
She taught me to read, shared her love of knitting and embroidery.
My father was brave and loving, and even though I was a rubbish hunter, he still took me on excursions to bond with me.
Often, Osheen came along—his own father deceased and mine stepping in.
My throat swells as a gentle breeze chills my damp face. There’s so much compassion in Kilkenny’s eyes that I have to turn away to gather my composure. I brush my hand lightly over wind-dried tears crusting on my cheek and find the nerve to face him again.
“I had two loving parents and a wonderful childhood. There should be no reason for me to have anything to complain about. You’ve been in the Royal Brigade, lost your lover and—” I choose not to finish the sentence, to mention his lost unborn child, but pain already shadows his features.
“You lost your parents,” he signs. “And you were left with the responsibility of looking after a child this kingdom has made it entirely too difficult to care for.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Many people are in that position.”
“Don’t do that,” he says.
“What?”
“Don’t diminish your own pain based on the pain of others.”
It’s hard not to. My lips tug down.
“You’ve been the sole caregiver to your brother.
And yes, other people have been through that.
You’ve done so while also handling your own ailment and while navigating losing your hearing.
” He pauses and hesitates for a moment. After a little while, he asks, “Does your ailment or your deafness scare you?”
“Yes and no to both.” I worry at my lower lip for a moment. “We live in a world not built for people like me or like Taig. That’s what scares me more.”
“Then let’s change it.”
“Change what?” I gesture.
“The world.”
I laugh light-heartedly, but he doesn’t crack a smile. “Us? Maybe you, but I’m nobody. Besides, no two people can just change the world.”
“You’re somebody to me. And change starts with one small drop of water with the potential to become a storm.”
I scoff at him. “What grandiose ideals.”
“What can I say? I’m a dreamer.”
“Hmm … Actually, I’m the dreamer, remember?” I crack a small smile, and he laughs.
He leans in as if to kiss me, but he stops and pulls back a bit, his full face in view again. I can’t help but release a small, disappointed breath having had his lips so close to mine for a second.
“You are worth far more than you believe.”
My chest clenches. “I want to believe it.”
“Then believe me.” He smiles and it’s devastatingly charming.
“Alright,” I say.
“Alright?” He leans in close again.
“Alright.”
When our lips meet, it’s soft, tender, and filled with unspoken promises. His arms wrap around my waist, and I shift, straddling him as my arms loop over his shoulders. When our lips part, he presses his forehead against mine.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad to have met you, Durvla Garrick.”