Page 33

“Yes. So he is.”

We follow the path beneath a trellis full of tightly closed buds. Daurek tells me the trees here are too old to move safely. The paths curve around their roots because he won’t force the trunks aside to make a straighter walk.

Beyond the hedge, I can see part of the eastern road. Two keepers stand beside a wagon, comparing the notices they carry.

“Is that one of the crossings they’re arguing about?”

Daurek follows the direction of my hand. “Yes. Each keeper has instructions for his own stretch. Neither can change the other’s.”

“Can Reivaka?”

“She still has to ask me when the districts disagree.” He watches them for a moment. “She’s been asking me to change that.”

I begin thinking of questions for the keepers. Then I notice he’s waiting for me beside the trellis, and I remember that he asked me here for a walk.

“I’ll save my excellent ideas for another time,” I say.

“Were there many?”

“Several. They hadn’t met any facts yet.”

He laughs, quietly enough that I hear it before anyone at the windows could.

The path narrows ahead between two old trunks. A root has risen across the gap, high enough that I need to lift my skirt to step over it.

Daurek stops beside the root and moves out of my way.

I could cross without help.

I hold out my hand instead.

He looks at it, then at me. For one dreadful moment, I think he’s going to let me stand there with my arm extended.

Before he offers his palm, his black claws slide back beneath the bark. The fingertips he holds out to me are smooth and rounded. I put my hand into his, and his fingers close around mine.

His skin is warm. The grain of his palm presses against mine, rough along the ridges and smoother between them. My whole hand fits inside his, with room left over.

I forget to step over the root.

“Vai?”

“I’m coming.”

I gather my skirt with my free hand and cross. His grip steadies me as my boot lands on the far side. When both feet are on the path, I keep my fingers curled around his.

He doesn’t let go.

Behind us, buds open along the trellis. Deep red petals unfold one after another until the wood is almost hidden. Their scent reaches us a moment later, sweet and heavy in the morning air.

Someone at a window makes a startled sound.

Daurek turns his head. The window closes.

I look from the flowers to our hands.

“Are these flowers part of the bond you told me about?”

“No. The forest reacts when I feel strongly about something.”