The girl’s mouth lost its sneer as she rested. Her thick brows curved upward in the middle instead of down, so she appeared much younger. Vulnerable even. In the dim light, her scar was barely visible, and Thia could almost imagine the girl she used to be, who had loved Sorscha fiercely and freely. She was quite beautiful—or maybe handsome was a better word, with her strong jaw, sharp cheeks, and rugged mouth. A study in smooth planes and sharp angles, her black hair even more ink-like in the dark. Her lips parted, expelling a restless breath in sleep.
Thia started. This time, she did turn and close her eyes, full of sorrow for Sorscha. And, though she was loath to admit it, for Oskaren, who had lost the good parts of her humanity, whether she missed them or not. She wondered what the girl had done to anger the king enough to exact such a curse.
And she wondered also what dangerous game she herself was playing, asking the man who had done it for help.
She sighed and turned all the way over so that her face was to Dess’s back, as though the motion could also turn away her heavy thoughts.
ELEVEN
SIX HOURS. THAT WAS HOW MUCH LONGERDESS SAID THEY’D BE INthe forest. They would reach the Midlunds by nightfall, a dehydrated expanse of grass that encompassed the lands of House Griffon, House Heron, and what territory in between that had been overrun by nÿgens. Despite what awaited them, Thia was relieved; she was tired of traipsing around in the dim, especially now that Oskaren was there to incessantly remark on her lack of balance or her hand clutched in Dess’s.
When the trees began to thin, Dess gestured for them to stop. “We’ll camp here,” he said. “Get some sleep while you can, and we will leave when the moon is high.”
“At night?” Thia asked, not loving the possibility of facing nÿgens in the dark.
Thran, to Thia’s left, surprised her by speaking. “The beasts cannot see well then.”
“That makes two of us,” she muttered, only to hold up a hand when Oskaren opened her mouth. “Don’t even start.”
Shockingly, the girl obeyed.
“Thran’s right,” Dess admitted, begrudgingly.
“Callista said the nÿgens worship her as a goddess,” Thia recalled. “Maybe they can be reasoned with?”
Dess snorted. “She probably feeds them.”
“Well, can we feed them then? What do they eat?”
Oskaren answered, slinging an arm over Dess’s shoulders and ruffling his hair. She wiggled her brows at Thia. “People.”
Thia’s skin crawled, remembering the smear of green on a frozen nÿgen’s snout, half-eaten brain hanging loose between its jagged teeth.
Dess growled, cheeks burning with irritation, and pushed Oskaren off. She let him go, laughing, a harsh sound with little humor.
He straightened his collar and pointedly turned his back so she was no longer in view. “Among other things,” he said to Thia. “But I wouldn’t risk it.”
“And they don’t enter the forest?”
He shrugged. “Rarely. They are creatures of the sun. There’s a river several leagues from here that marks the other end of their territory, and the border of House Griffon. The trees will hide it tonight, but tomorrow we should finally see the Lightning Tower flash at dusk.” He started unpacking his own roll, and Thia mirrored him.
“What is it? Magic?”
Dess paused. “No one knows for sure. It emanates from the top of the Lightning Tower. Some say the Tyrant is experimenting with dark spells. Others say his power is too great for one man to bear, so he must expel it or else go mad.”
Thran set his own pack down a few yards away, but he raised his head at this. “There is a cost to power,” he commented. “Perhaps one is the consequence of the other.”
“Wonderful,” Thia grumbled. “Can’t wait.”
Dess resumed his task, perhaps unwilling to philosophize now that Thran was involved. “At the very least it will prevent us from getting lost.”
They finished making camp, Dess and Thia taking up positions beside each other, Thran and Oskaren a small distance away, to Thia’s relief. Perhaps the girl’s appetite for irritating her had subsided after an entire day of walking. Lying back on her bedroll, Thia stretched her arms up over her head, tracing the cracks of gold in the green canopy above with longing. She could just make out the silver outline of Mavrel where he roosted in a tree to her right.
“You’re missing the sky, aren’t you?”
Thia turned to find Dess watching her.
“There aren’t this many trees in Kansas.”
