“Time to hold your breath.” Kalan shifts before taking a hesitant step forward. It’s the first and only time I’ve seen him waver. But he retreats and looks at the edge of the bank and the river. I don’t understand his movements until he picks up a large rock, twice the size of a fist. He beckons us behind him and puts up his fingers, starting a countdown on them.
Kyra and I look at each other, and Lyle nods.
As he drops the final finger, he throws the rock to the right side of the bridge, and it splashes into the water. We all watch, waiting for the distraction to take hold, and one of the Warriors breaks formation, only just, but it gives us the breathing room to creep through the gap a little less hounded.
I hold my breath and place each step with careful precision as I pass, not stopping until my feet are safely off the stone of the bridge.
We all make it over and past the line before the Warrior shifts back, sealing the way. My eyes close in a silent thank you to Aslendrix, and as soon as I have them open, Kalan chops his hand through the air, signalling the direction he wants us to go.
We’re not finished yet.
As we walk towards The Court, the colour and wonder I saw in Kirrasia in abundance when I first arrived wakes up my senses.
It was overwhelming, beautiful even, when I first saw it. The visions before me were so breathtaking that it was hard to take them all in.
Since then, I’ve seen things I’d rather erase from my memory, but the sight of The Court, the Mountains rising behind it, the tapestry of bright colours all around, from the greens of the forest to the snow-capped peaks, still gives me pause.
Lyle’s hand sneaks around mine, and she gives it a little squeeze as she passes, a fleeting gesture, as she continues. Side by side with me.
As we continue, the similarities between my first visit and now fade. Where there was an energy and rhythm to the trades and stalls spilling out of The Court, as if it couldn’t be contained, now, there is a barren and empty space, absent of life. No chatter. No noise. Empty stalls, and few people. The path through the winding street and past the dwellings and houses to The Tower is vacant, and with every step, the unrest grows within me, a quiver of anticipation knotting in the pit of my stomach.
Kyra looks back, questions marring her face.
“What is it?” I whisper.
“I… want to see my parents. To make sure they’re safe.”
“The Maker first. Then you can do what you want,” Kalan replies.
“Hey!” I protest.
“I know my part, Kalan. It doesn’t lessen my concern, though,” she states defiantly. She turns to me, and I nod, only mustering a weak smile. She has been missing from them for weeks, so soon after Micah, and her worry is sound. We keep to the plan until we arrive outside the Tower, where Kyra will leave us.
She steps away from us, but I keep her under my cover, easily pushing the veil of magic over her, until she’s all the way inside the entrance. Not the main door that I’ve always gone through, but a smaller, side door. A door that nobody is meant to notice.
And then we wait.
thirty-six
. . .
Aten
Iwould have given anything to spare Calix from this. Their grief smothered me, drowned me, and I had to fight to shield myself from their emotion, and even then, spears and spikes of their pain cut through like they were nothing but paper and smoke.
Neither of them showed it. To anyone else, they were model Warriors. General Aster was as steadfast and formidable as he always had been, but that didn’t camouflage what I could feel from him, his own personal battle raging under the surface, taking siege of his heart. It hit me wave after wave.
He asked no questions. Just listened. To me, first. Then Calix showed him the ring—Crimson’s ring. Finally, his eyes raised to mine, but still there were no questions.
She’d been killed defending me, and avenging Calix against those keeping Ever.
Calix knew more, but as I tried to give the General more details, Calix cut me off. It felt like a crime and a dishonest actnot to spill every shred of reason behind his daughter’s death, but that wasn’t the way. Not yet, at least.
“Do you need to?—”
“No. I will find the time. The right time to tell your mother.” Cetus steps away from both of us for a moment.
The air quietens, allowing me a reprieve.
