“What are you going to do?” I asked, but Kye was already ahead of me, riding directly to Kriska.
The pirate watched us approach. He turned his head and spat, chunks of bright orange flying from his mouth, crossing his arms as he raised his brows. I recognized Demyan a few feet from him, the unnaturally tall and quiet pirate watching us like a statue under his own painted face.
The pirates took a step closer, reaching for their blades, but Kye plastered a friendly smile over his mouth, leaning out the side of his saddle.“Dobré ráno, Vládca Skorpió, Necakal som, že ta tu uvidím!”
I had only a moment to watch Kriska’s expression fall into brief confusion before we passed. But a cacophony of voices struck the air behind me.
“Vládca Skorpió?”
“Vládca Skorpió je tu!”
Heads turned, eyes wide. The festival-goers rushed in the opposite direction, one woman releasing a squeal across the square. The words reached the edge of the trees before we did, and Kye nodded at two farmers who stood at the mouth of our trail, craning their necks and loudly discussingVládca Skorpióbetween themselves.
I glanced behind us. “What isVládca Skorpió?”
Kye shot me a mischievous smile. “The Rivean King’s nephew and heir.” He tugged his reins to the left, leading Sero into a thicket of ash wood. “Let's start on the trail and then cut through the forest in a way they can’t follow.” He darted a look at the mob now forming well behind us. “Can you navigate just as well on land as you do the sea?”
I shrugged. “Stars are stars. I can follow them anywhere.”
27
Maren
The ravine at our side opened into a canyon, wide and deep. As access to water, it served its purpose—though it was steep, the ground loose. Dangerous to climb down without sure and cautious feet.
I climbed down anyway, descending to the river while Kye waited with the horses. He might have taken the task on by himself, hauling heavy pots of water up the hillside. But I was the more experienced fisherman, only failing to make a catch when fish weren’t in the water.
Still, the instinct to hide my tail from him kept me cautious.
Resting over the tops of our bedrolls, we stared at the fire, too tired for conversation. It had been our hardest day of riding; the flat ground had begun to slant upward. But sighting Kriska that morning left the sharp feeling of a dagger between my shoulder blades, and even as I sat mesmerized by the dancing flames, something in me itched to return to the road even as my eyes threatened to close.
According to our map, a town was close by, the last before we reached the mountains. The forest had cradled us awayfrom prying eyes, but signs of people had begun to emerge. Footprints in the mud. A half-rotten shoe. Threads of frayed rope, discarded along the forest floor.
Another few days and we’d reach the Sylus Mountains. As long as nothing went wrong.
Poking at my salted fish with a fallen branch, my eyes drooped. It wasn’t yet dark; the pale sun still claimed the sky. But the warmth of my blankets called my name.
I glanced across the flames at Kye, his skull face paint only beginning to wear away, and wondered if exhaustion claimed as much of him as it did me. An arm wrapped over his bent knee, he leaned against his bedroll, intent on his knitting pattern. He’d almost finished our scarves. Beside him, the ball of yarn bounced gently in the grass as he pulled the woolen thread. Somewhere behind us, Kolibri hurled an admonishing nicker at Sero.
“If you need to sleep, I can take over the fire,” Kye said, routing a thread over the tip of his needle with a finger.
“I’m fine.” I lifted the edge of the filet, scrutinizing the pink flesh. “I think it’s almost done anyway.”
“Smells good.”
“Don’t lie.” I lifted the pan from the flames, setting it in the long grass. “You hate fish.”
He smiled without looking at me. The scarf he knit hung from his hands, its finished mate, my scarf, laid flat over his thigh. “I never lie.”
“Just half-truths, then.”
“When have I told a half-truth?”
“In Leihani when you made me think you were some pompous miner’s son.”
“I am some pompous miner’s son.”
“It’s a half truth.”
