Quinn and Taran fight bitterly over the plan to send Seth with us to Avaris while the others are outside. In the end, although Ronan won’t budge on his decision to let Seth come despite Quinn’s protests, he agrees to let her come as well after my encouragement.
With our plans decided, Ronan and I return to our cottage to pack up our things while Quinn and Octavia wait outside on guard. When we get back, we’ll need to move into Castle Pyka for protection until we’re ready to march on Faros.
A tear runs down my cheek as I pack away my flute.
“Hey,” says Ronan, kissing me softly. “I’ll miss it too.”
“I’ve just been so happy here. What if it’s never like this again?” I look around at the messy little corner we carved out in the world for ourselves, not ready to let it go.
“It may not be exactly like this, but as long as we’re together, it will be wonderful.” He holds my hands to his chest. “You said it yourself last night. I am your home, and you are mine.”
Then he kisses me one last time in the first place that was truly ours.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The griffins enjoy our flight through the mountains a lot more than we do.
We avoid the pass we took when we came to Pyka six months ago, fearing that Selaran spies or assassins could see us and make their move. Instead, we venture south to approach Avaris from the west.
I lean back into Ronan while we fly, shivering in the cold air. To our left, Quinn rides behind Seth on Bitey. “I’ll have to keep my distance. Taran will never forgive me if something happens between us,” she had told me as we were getting ready.
“And Octavia?” I had asked. “Would she forgive you?”
Quinn grinned. “Oh, definitely.”
“So it’s not serious then?” I couldn’t help but be a little nosy. I’d seen them together since they returned, but the affection between them has been considerably less charged than between Taran and Seth.
Quinn looked off into the distance as if she wasn’t sure what to say. “It could have been, maybe, if things were different. But we’re on separate paths. Literally.” She shook her cane in my direction.
“I can’t imagine Octavia has an issue with that.”
“She doesn’t. But it was tough out there at sea. I don’t want to hold her back. And besides, my place is with Ronan in Faros, however long it takes us to get there. I couldn’t ask her to stay for me, and she wouldn’t ask me to come with her. So it is what it is until it isn’t.”
“And that doesn’t make you a little sad?” They seemed good for each other. It was nice to see Quinn have someone whose company she enjoys beyond the bedroom.
“Nothing lasts forever, Sylvie. Well, maybe you two, but not much else. Our arrangement doesn’t make me sad. It makes me happy. It means I give her exactly what I’m willing to and nothing more. I don’t know if I’ll ever be willing to give away all of myself again the way that you have. I admire you for it. It isn’t easy.”
“It wasn’t in the beginning. But now? It’s as easy as falling asleep. It’s as natural as breathing.” I had fought against it and struggled with it at first, but being with Ronan was the easiest and best part of my life.
Quinn had laughed then and suggested it was as natural as other, less wholesome things as well, and I couldn’t deny it.
We pass over the barren plains and the ruined city of Avaris, our griffins circling as we scan the landscape below for bandits or travelers before landing near the cave entrance from our shared dream. The graveyard is almost unrecognizable, the gleaming white stones in the dream now covered in dust and sand, many of them broken or leaning. But the alcove looks exactly the same.
It’s the same place. We’re certain of it, although how we could possibly navigate to and recognize a location we’ve only seen in a dream, we couldn’t say.
Kira nips at Ronan as he helps me from her back, running into his shoulder with her head.
“She doesn’t want us to go in there,” says Ronan. Then he turns to speak with her, scratching her neck with both of his hands. “It’s where we’re meant to be. We’ll be alright. We’re not going alone.”
She doesn’t seem to believe him, following after him quickly as he tries to walk away. But then Bitey distracts her chasing after a skittering beetle, and he’s able to make his escape.
The torch, on the other hand, is delighted. It reflects Ronan’s magic once more, but now that I’ve sensed it without him, I can understand its own feelings better. To the extent that a torch can even have feelings.
Although maybe what I’m feeling isn’t the torch. Maybe it’s Vayla herself. Maybe this is her way of sharing her will with us.
Her will, if it is her will, is clear—into the cave. The torch reignites and flashes red once more as we withdraw it from the satchel I carry.
The sickle, as ever, is silent.
