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They look nothing at all like the dabs of paint I smeared across the rafters of our little cabin, these bright swirling lights. The deep silence of this mountain valley pools around us, broken only by our breath, and the darkness grows thick and heavy, until it feels like the distance between us and the stars has vanished, and all it would take to touch those bright shining lights would be to stretch my arm and open my fingers.
“You know,” Rowan finally says, in a sort of whisper. “That was really funny.”
I snort. “No, it really wasn’t.”
Rowan makes a choking sound, like he’s trying to swallow his laugh. “Stars, Phae,” he says. “You should have seen your face!”
“Okay,” I grumble. “You’re right, it was hilarious. Now please never do that again.”
Rowan snorts another laugh. “I do have an actual reason to be here,” he says.
“Oh?” I reply, turning toward him and raising an eyebrow, although he probably can’t see me do it. “You’re not just here to torture me?”
“Well, that and—”
Rowan’s voice cuts off as he rustles around in his cloak. A moment later, something smacks across my stomach. I run my fingers over what feels like a square of parchment.
“Message from Aloserin,” Rowan announces. “And I got it in writing, just in case you decided not to believe me.”
I frown as I run my fingers over the parchment. It’s too small to be bad news, surely.
“What’s the message?” I ask.
“Congratulations on getting your head out of your ass,” Rowan declares.
I pick up the square of parchment and smack Rowan with it. He laughs, then shifts on the platform.
“You’re on leave,” Rowan says.
“What?” I reply.
“Calm down,” Rowan continues. “Aloserin’s giving you some personal time until the envoy comes back out of the Lands Below. Once those fuckers from the Kingdom of the Summer are headed home, you’ll be leaving with him, and Ithronel and Alindra, for the Kingdom of Stone and Sea.”
I swallow as my throat tightens. “Yeah,” I say. “Listen. I want to talk to you about that.”
There’s the rustle of heavy cloth as Rowan rolls over. In the thin starlight, I can just make out the curve of his face and the darkness that was once his left eye.
“Don’t tell me you’re not going,” he says.
“I’m not—”
“Because Aloserin thinks you’re going,” Rowan continues. “And you told Alindra, right?”
I nod, then realize he can’t see me. “We talked about it,” I reply. “She said she’d love to have me come with her. But—”
My voice fades, swallowed by the darkness, and I blink up at the stars. I don’t know how to put it into words. Rowan was always the one who went off into the world, vanishing into the void or joining a group of trekkers.
And I was always the one who stayed home. In the World’s End, wearing my sentry uniform, keeping the fire going and the kitchen stocked. Whenever Rowan returned, and in whatever shape, I was there for him.
“Shit,” Rowan says. “It’s not me, is it?”
“It’s not you,” I reply. “I mean, it’s not exactly you.”
Rowan groans, then sinks back onto the platform. “What,” he says. “You worried I’m going to get into trouble without you?”
“Kind of?” I admit.
Rowan snorts. I can’t see him, but I can picture the exact expression he’s making.
