Oskaren was still crouching, and their faces were close. Thia could see the little smattering of hairs that grew just outside the sculpt of the girl’s brows, the tiny, imperfect edges of her scar. Her heart thundered; she had to force herself not to move away. “What?”
Oskaren dropped the berries into Thia’s palm and straightened. “I only meant—the ghosts wouldn’t have affected me. I should have taken the full watch,” she repeated. If it were anyone else, Thia might have thought it was an apology. Her tone lacked its usual cutting humor, but it was also absent of remorse.
Thia peered up at her. “You’ve never lost anyone?”
“I’ve lost everyone.” The tiniest hint of a smile returned, bitter and sharp. “Nothing can hurt me.” It was the first time Thia had heard the other girl speak of her own curse. But before she could ask more, Oskaren marched away to help with the wood.
They spent an hour or so huddled around a fire, replenishing their strength and making new torches. The sky had lightened by the time they packed up again, dispersing some of the clouds with it, and Thia couldn’t help her long breath of relief that dawn would soon send the mist back into the shadows.
Descent made the trek less strenuous, and Thia found she could walk on her own. Her feet ached like never before, each step sending painful vibrations up into her knees, but Dess looked just as weary. She didn’t want to force her extra weight on him. Maybe it was a little bit her pride as well, when Oskaren scooped up her pack again.
Then, finally, daylight broke onto the path. Mist hissed, retreating for the edge of the cavern. Dess paused, attention skyward as gold lit his pale features. “We survived.”
“We’re not out yet,” Oskaren said cheerfully.
Thia could have cried. As a group, they discarded their torches, pleased to have free hands again. Voices remained at the edge of Thia’s mind, but they were quieter now, and she ignored them with a spiteful glare to the shadows.
The rest of the journey went quicker than their ascent and, after a few more hours, the slope began to flatten. Thia guessed it was around midmorning when Thran, who was in the lead, halted, though the sky remained cloudy so she couldn’t say for sure.
“What is it?”
“Open fields,” he said, pointing to the exit, where the rocks gave way to flat plains.
The touch of grass felt rather welcome to Thia, so she didn’t understand the concern until Oskaren said, “If Lord Sagan is right, and Xercae has indeed decided to hunt you, this would be the ideal place for her to attack.”
Thia swallowed. “So what do we do? Wait for dark?”
“Witches see well in the dark,” Oskaren answered. “I suggest we move as quickly as we can and find a barn to hide in at nightfall.”
When no one protested, they continued on. It was only after they had fully put the mountain behind them that Thia realized just how badly the haunted Dwimors had set her on edge. She peeled her nails from her palms, knuckles stiff from clutching them too tightly for too long. Miraculously, Xercae was nowhere to be seen. Mavrel soared high above them, and Thia was comforted by the fact that he might spot the witch first and give them fair warning.
Despite the agonizingly slow pace their fatigued bodies mustered, they found a barn just before sunset. When they stretched out in a loft above slumbering cows, pausing only for the flash of lightning that would confirm their direction, they were all asleep immediately.
SEVENTEEN
THIA AWOKE TO GENTLE MOOING AND THE SCENT OF HAY. IT WASdark in the barn, and snores from her left and by her feet indicated at least two of her companions were still asleep. A tall figure sat in front of the singular square window, staring out into the black, arms curled around knees that were crooked up to her chest.
Oskaren turned, perhaps sensing the shift in Thia’s breathing, or the sound of her legs wriggling free of her bedroll. “Go back to sleep,” she said, though not unkindly.
Instead, Thia sat up. “I will if you will.” And she meant it. Moving to sit beside the girl, Thia noted the circles under Oskaren’s eyes, the dulled warmth in her bronze cheeks that suggested fatigue deeper than one night of lost sleep. If she were capable of emotion, Thia would have said she seemed haggard. “You’re tired.”
“I’m fine, Faelyn,” Oskaren said tonelessly.
Faelyn.“What does that mean?” Thia asked.
Oskaren didn’t answer, only shifted her attention back to the window and the world beyond.
Thia studied her, the curl of those broad shoulders, the thin line of her lips. Sad. Angry too, with that dip in her brow. There was no other word for it.
Thia frowned. “Oskaren—” she started, only to halt as Oskaren said, “Go to sleep,” in a voice that was dangerously low.
“Are you still planning on killing him?” she blurted, unable to stop herself.
Oskaren’s expression was unreadable, knowing which him she meant. “It is all I have left.”
“You don’t,” Thia insisted. “You have Sorscha and—”
At the sound of her mother’s name, Oskaren flinched back. Then she gasped, hand flying to her chest, face scrunched in pain. Thia reached forward, concerned, but when her hand touched the girl’s shoulder, she yanked herself away, and Thia retreated.
