“Hope.” Then he said nothing more, as if so many words had exhausted him. He exchanged the boot in his hands for the one on the ground and began working it as well.
It was freeing in a way. To hear that no matter which cards fate dealt her, no matter what role she ended up playing, she was still seen for the person she hoped she was. She could go home, and at least one person would still think she was good, even if she couldn’t become what this world wanted of her.
She swallowed, throat burning. “Thanks,” she said, meaning it.
He set both boot and brush down, finished. “Just remember, little lass,” he said, a twinkle in his blue gaze letting her know his next words were in jest. “Hope can’t be killed.”
She wished that was true.
THIRTY-THREE
AS THEY PREPARED TO SET OFF THE MORNING OF THE SEVENTH DAY, Thia could feel Oskaren’s attention on her. But when she turned to check, hands occupied with her bedroll, the girl’s face was unreadable. Thia would have given anything to know what she was thinking, if she too was replaying that moment over and over, Thia’s chin tilted, Oskaren’s angled down, leaning in—
What would she have done if Oskaren had closed that final gap? If their lips had actually met? It thrilled her to consider, even if it terrified her. She’d never kissed anyone before. Starting with someone cursed probably wasn’t the grandest idea. Thia was hardly a relationship expert, but that didn’t seem like a solid foundation. If it even meant that much. Maybe it was just a physical thing, Oskaren caught up in the intensity of the moment.
The other girl was probably already putting it out of her head. She’d certainly taken the first chance to run. Which was probably what Thia should be doing, too, all things considered.
She sighed.
The rain had stopped overnight; they set off into a colorful sunrise for the first time in days. But as the hours passed, it grew darker, not lighter. She looked up, but there were no clouds.
No—the trees were thicker, closer together, their branches heavy with foliage.
“We’re nearly there,” Oskaren said, hand on a trunk where she walked a few feet ahead of their group.
Dess stopped beside Thia. “Hear that?”
They fell silent for a moment. Oskaren seemed aware and unsurprised, but Thia heard nothing.
“What is it?”
“A waterfall.”
Now that she knew what to listen for, she could just make it out: a distant crash she’d assumed was wind.
“The River of Oaths,” Oskaren said quietly. “It marks the borders of Losrohiria. The falls run beneath the entrance to the Vale.”
“Beneath?” Dess said, frowning.
Oskaren was already walking, her pace quicker than before. “You’ll see.”
It took another hour to reach the falls, their roar increasing with every step. When they finally emerged from the trees onto the edge of a cliff, Oskaren had to shout to be heard. “Watch your step!”
Thia caught her breath at the scenery before them. On the ledge of a rocky ravine, thunderous water spilled down into the depths below, cascading into a meandering river that flowed out toward the horizon to their right. Directly before them, a great stone arch decorated with carvings of vines, flowers, and woodland creatures framed an ancient wooden bridge. The bridge itself swayed in the wind, a treacherous path that spanned the width of the tumbling water. The ropes that suspended it were thick and sturdy, but Thia couldn’t help but notice the way it rocked at the center when the wind kicked up.
“Absolutely not,” Dess said, seeing the same thing as Thia.
“The Vale lies just beyond,” Oskaren said. “There is no other way.” She glanced between them, mouth hard. “Stay here.” She didn’t wait for a response, but strode under the arch and lifted her arms. “Etâ khal, Losrohirum,” she began. “We are Oskaren Alinac of the Nutherlunds, Dessfar…” She glanced back at him. “Kings-kin of Black Forest.”
“Kings-kin?” Thia whispered to Dess.
He pressed his lips together. “Someone who doesn’t know their kin. They are the king’s, or kin to the realm itself.”
She put a hand on his arm, knowing how much he must have hated laying a familial claim to the very man who had taken his.
In front of them, Oskaren continued. “Thran Grimsic of Irondeer, and Thia Sanbrooke of Kansas.” She pressed her hands to the stone of the arch, head bowed. “We humbly beg access to your lands in our journey to the sea beyond. We swear never to leave the Vale, nor kill any living thing during our time here.Val mukten sorro, llewe mukta val.” Releasing the stone, she drew a hand down her chest from left shoulder to right hip.
Then she beckoned them forward. “Here. Now you say it.Val mukten sorro, llewe mukta val.”
