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“Is she a princess?” Kena breathed.

“Close enough.”

Eavus shifted his weight again. The closeness of the room, the heat, the interminable questions, and the chance to actually sit without constantly being on his guard seemed to all catch up and tackle him at once. His eyelids were so heavy they were pulling him down. “I’m not a proper soldier. I’m only a slave. I need to report in or I’ll be executed for desertion.” He pulled back his cloak and showed the boy his tattoo. “See?” Rast reached out and almost touched it before snatching his hand away. “Her parents were killed. She’s trying to get to Isfolj, to find her own people. Can you help us? Can we sleep here tonight? We’ll be gone by morning.”

Kena shook her head, her eyes, if possible, going even wider. “I don’t think there are Isfolj in Lordinius.”

“She wants to try.” Eavus kept his face neutral. There were too many people here who understood too much, and too little, and he was too tired to keep all his stories straight.

“You can sleep here. I’ll lock us in. You’ll be safe.”

Eavus’ shoulders dropped, but he held back. “And the boy?” He turned to the small, angry face that had pushed back into the corner. “Can I trust you?”

The little brow furrowed so deep he looked ancient, like a military commander on the field. “I don’t kill people,” he said, with such violence Eavus finally allowed pure relief to flow through him. A night’s sleep. Food. He relayed the conversation to Revni, who had her own questions, before she unstrapped her ax, stretched her back, and stood.

“Do you know where to find safe water?” Eavus took off his belt, set it near the opposite wall, and tucked himself next to it. He closed his eyes, relishing in the pure bliss of solid rest. He twitched a smile. “The princess wants a bath.”

TWENTY

Kena said mornings were generally safe, but Revni was still distracted at every turn as the girl led them to the ghostly remains of the Aleterian extension in the early light of dawn—the lingering smell of iron, the creak of the snug Aleterian planks. The maze of streets, the high columns stretching into the clear blue morning. Lordinius, as Eavus explained it, was the biggest city on the entire island, one of the biggest cities of the entire Aleterian empire, and his plan sent Revni’s nerves jangling. The size and scope of Colcium overwhelmed her. That ruined statue—it seemed impossible that it was carved from stone. She wanted to press a finger into the softness of the cheek, to see if it would give.

Kena was an eager magpie, pressing items she discovered into their hands—a pair of tweezers, a single die, a verdigrised cloak pin with a broken face. She even found a spare tunic for Revni to use. It was somehow both exceedingly low in front and exceedingly short. Revni tried to hand it back, but Kena pushed so forcefully that Revni finally asked Eavus if there was some sort of Aleterian custom she was missing.

His face reddened, but he shook his head. “You’ll be fine.”

Kena worried her lip between her teeth, but Revni didn’t speak Aleterian or Oditi, so there wasn’t much more she could do. Eavus took the tunic. Neither of them had the heart to turn the girl’s gifts down, and Revni was too lost in her thoughts for more argument. By the time they reached the southern gates, her head was swimming. Trying to imagine the scope of Lordinius seemed like trying to imagine the ice palace of the gods. Krllda grew and shrank with the seasons, and Lordinius felt like that in her mind—mystical and elastic, where anything might be possible. That wasn’t always a good thing. A massive city, a capital, and she’d never even heard of it.

Before they slipped out, she and Eavus shared a moment of hesitation, and Revni knew they had both considered bringing the children, and both discarded it. Bees’ mind, her mother used to call it. All of one thought. A good raid worked like that, a good ship.

And that was how the journey went at first—matching pace without discussion, knowing when the other needed to rest or drink or eat. But as cultivated fields began to take the place of wild forest and travelers began to pass, the anxious hope that had fluttered in Revni’s chest tempered like it had been dipped in oil. It was an approaching cart, the first time she noticed it. Eavus gave an uneasy nod and the driver merely steered his donkey to the side—Aleteria must not be impeded—but Eavus shifted, as if the ill-fitting breastplate itched. Kena had unearthed it from the rubble, along with a broken kit pole and other supplies, and the sack swung unsteadily above his shoulder. When they stopped for the night, Eavus took them far away from the road. He said it was so they could find a good tree to sleep under—and Revni agreed that if rain came, as if it often did, the thick covering of branches made a welcome difference—but they passed several potential spots that he dismissed with a tension she could only describe as nervous. His casual Silve to passing travelers often came with a flinch, or he suddenly decided that finding food or taking a break was essential when the road became too populated.

He’d said he was conri, owned property, but she hadn’t initially put together what that meant.

“You showed that to the deserter.” Revni pointed at the marks on his arm. “To the children. Does it mean something?”

“It’s my name and office.” She furrowed her brow and he paused to show her the letters. “That’s Ricaeas, and that says I’m a soldier.”

“Which part is your name?”

He reddened at that, but pointed again at the first line. “That’s the house that owns me. My full name is Ricaea Marceas Eavus.” He almost looked like he wanted to say more, but her mind was on other things.

“Do all the soldiers have this mark?”

He half-shrugged as they resumed their march. “If they’re free-born they’ll only have one row instead of two, and once you finish your service, you get a line down the center—” He showed her where. “Says you’ve done your full time, so you can’t be conscripted again.”

She didn’t know the word conscripted, but that wasn’t what concerned her.

The sun had begun to soften, like a pale yolk pierced in the pan, when Revni heard a familiar jangle in the distance. It had a rhythm to it she couldn’t place—a traveling smith, maybe, with his ingots rattling in his cart. But Eavus blanched and ducked off the road so quickly, Revni had to jog to follow. The grass buried him from the waist down, but the bundle of supplies bobbed and swung from the pole just above his head, until suddenly, even that disappeared.

Revni dropped next to him. Eavus shifted. A plant was crushed under his foot.

“I—”

Red had rushed into his face. The clinking grew closer, the music of metal tinkling against metal, the percussion of stomping feet. A drop of moisture swelled on his temple.

“If we come across a cohort now, with no explanation—” He cut himself off as the voices rumbled their own harmony, rising and falling over the meadow. The bead of sweat let go, leaving a trail over his cheekbone like a crack.

Revni adjusted her own stance, blood rushing to her legs. Her stomach and her heart twisted against each other, like wringing out a cloth.