“Fled?”
Immediately Kiela wished she’d chosen a different word. She hadn’t brought herself to explain to anyone why exactly she’d left. She didn’t know why it was so difficult to say. After all, she hadn’t caused the revolution. All she’d done was escape it. If she simply left out the detail of the rescued books . . . Somehow, though, talking about it was just as hard as talking about when her parents died. It made the loss more real. But he had to be told, especially if she was going to keep him from paying a visit to the capital to plead for sorcerous aid.I should tell him now.“It’s not safe there. A lot of unrest. The day Caz and I left—”
Outside, the storm died. It happened in an instant, even faster than the storm had brewed, as if someone had snuffed it out like a candle flame. Larran threw open the shutters on the window, and Kiela joined him to stare out across the ocean.
The sky looked as if it had been ripped apart. Jagged slashes of yellow and orange stretched across the blue-black-purple, like wounds. As she watched, the colors faded—the garish orange faded to lemon, the yellow paled to white, and the sky around it shifted to a calm blue. Below, the ocean stilled.
The silence, after the crash of the waves and the howl of the wind, was almost as stunning in its completeness as the furor had been at its height. It was the sudden absence of a scream—almost as loud, in a way, as the scream itself.
“How . . .” she began.
“They’ve been like that. Like a toddler throwing a tantrum and then collapsing in exhaustion. I think the magic runs itself out.” He headed for the door. “I need to fetch Ivor. Could you watch . . .” He halted, his hand on the handle. “No, you can’t stay. Caz. But I can’t leave her alone.”
The name shot through her like a lightning bolt. “Caz!” She had to check on him. He could be hurt. He could be terrified. But the rescued woman—“You stay with her. I’ll fetch Ivor on my way to Caz. If he’s on the way. Where’s Ivor?” She should have asked that first before she’d offered. Now that she began to think about Caz, her mind conjured up a thousand images of him, blown away by the wind, unable to keep his root ball together, his soil washed out . . .He would’ve stayed inside. Safe.Unless he’d worried about her and ventured out to find her. Unless he hadn’t noticed the storm stirring until it was too late, and he was out in the garden. Unless he’d tried to help the cactus after the storm hit. Or the chicken. And they’d all been blown away by the too-strong wind.I have to get back.
“He’s up the cliff stairs, by the waterfall,” Larran said. “I’d go with you, but I don’t want to leave her alone. If she wakes, she could be frightened. Confused. And if she doesn’t wake . . .” He looked back toward the bedroom. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
“Where by the waterfall?” Kiela hadn’t seen a house on the bluff.
“Call his name when you’re close to the water.” He shepherded her to the door. “Oh, wait.” He retrieved her mostly dried clothes. She pulled on her pants, wobbling awkwardly, and then reached for the buttons of his shirt before pausing and blushing. “Keep it. Just hurry. Carefully. Don’t risk yourself. But hurry as quickly and safely as you can.”
“I will,” she promised.
He’d already turned back to the rescued woman.
Carrying her shirt and wearing his, she ran out of the house. Outside, the beach was strewn with driftwood and seaweed. Half a dead tree lay across the pebbles, and a chunk of a roof with a weathervane still attached had crashed down beside it. Kiela climbed around both. The wind had died back completely, and the waves were lapping gently, as if in apology. Above, the sun had begun to shine, causing the wet cliffs to glisten. It was strangely beautiful in its sparkling chaos. She looked up at the stairs.
A few steps had been ripped from the cliff wall. Kiela swallowed hard and wished there were another way up. Glancing back at Larran’s house, she wondered if he knew how to—
He’d already closed the door.
He has someone new to take care of now.
She immediately squelched the thought. Of course he was worried about the rescued woman—that was the kind of person he was. He was a caretaker. It was why he spent his days caring for a herd of merhorses. It was why he’d rushed to her cottage when he saw smoke and fixed her chimney. It was the way he was.
Kiela just had thought, for a moment, that it was something more with her.
Foolish,she told herself as she began to climb the stairs.
She tested each step before she put her full weight on it, and she clung to the wet rocks of the cliff. The breeze tickled her cheek, as if teasing her. Her heart beat hard and fast. She climbed as quickly as she dared and tried not to think about how far it was to fall.
Reaching one of the broken steps, Kiela lunged over it—
The next step creaked but didn’t snap, and she exhaled in relief. She continued higher as the sun continued to brighten above.
By the time she reached the top, the sky was picture-perfect blue with no trace of any storm. The meadow beyond the cliff, though, was strewn with debris: leaves, branches, a fishnet. Petals from the beach roses were scattered everywhere. She looked out over the village and saw cats flying over rooftops, their colorful wings bright in the sunlight. Where had they—Ah, the attics! Several of the villagers had opened windows in their attics for the cats to shelter in.Outer islanders care for our own.She loved that the Caltreyans had expanded that belief to include all the village cats, both wild and tamed.
Veering around a fallen branch, Kiela jogged toward the waterfall. “Ivor? Hello, Ivor?”
Swollen with excess water, the waterfall tumbled down the cliff. It filled the air with spray, each drop sparkling in the sunlight. Shielding her eyes from the droplets, she looked for any sign of a home. She saw nothing. Larran had been clear about the directions—by the waterfall at the top of the cliff. It wasn’t as if she could have misunderstood.
“Ivor!”
“I am here.” A man stepped from behind the waterfall, through the spray.He’s a twelve-prong,she remembered Bryn saying, but Kiela hadn’t pictured what that would look like. He was a short, thin man with brown skin, in a brown leather cloak that draped to his ankles, and he wore his antlers like a massive crown.
For an instant, she couldn’t think of what to say. It felt akin to the moment she saw the unicorn, as if he was a being of magic, created by the waterfall.
“You are the one who healed Eadie’s cherry tree.” He executed a bow, his antlers bobbing forward. She glanced at his feet, half expecting hooves, but his feet were human, bare, and as green as the grass he walked through.
