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“For now,” I reply, my jaw suddenly tight. “But when we leave here, we leave the ebiki behind. It’ll take time, but the wounds will appear again.”
“Oh, Deka.” Britta hurries toward me, her eyes wide. “Why didn’t ye tell me?”
“There wasn’t time, what with everything happening so fast.” I ball up my fists as fear suddenly rises, a heavy, suffocating emotion. “I keep telling myself I can endure it,” I whisper. “If it comes again, I can endure it. But I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I want to…. I’m so tired, Britta. So very tired.”
Soft arms engulf me, holding me tight. Offering me comfort, understanding. “Me too,” Britta whispers, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I’m tired too. Tired of being strong, tired of fighting. But we have to endure it.”
I nod. “We have no choice.”
“Oh, I’m not so certain of that.” Lamin enters the stables, and Britta and I turn, startled to hear his voice.
I haven’t seen him all morning, so it’s something of a shock to see how he’s transformed between last night and today. He’s wearing formal robes, but not the ones I’m now accustomed to seeing Sarla’s godsworn wear. While his are the usual white, they have trailing sleeves and a cape that falls ever so elegantly on the grass.
If he notices my examination, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he just says, “Queen Ayo sent me. She wishes to speak with you. She and her children have prepared a gift.”
Britta and I glance at each other.
“A gift?” I ask.
“One even Ixa contributed to,” he continues, mysterious.
“So wha is it, or are ye goin’ to keep bein’ vague in yer new getup?” Britta humphs.
“Oh, this?” Lamin looks down as if startled. Then he smiles ruefully. “Spent the better part of the last decade in armor, so I wanted you to see me in something different before you go.” He sighs, steps forward. “Deka, I want to say—”
I stop him with a hand to his arm. “I’ll be seeing you,” I say quickly. “Not goodbye, but I’ll be seeing you.”
It’s as much as I can give him—acknowledgment that we may one day meet again on better terms.
It’s not likely, but it is possible.
Anything is possible.
Lamin nods, then looks at me again. “Do you think you can ever forgive me?”
I nod. “I already have.” When he brightens, I add, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll forget.”
He sighs, nods. “That’s a good strategy, I suppose.”
“Practical,” I say, heading out of the stables. “And also merciful, considering that if you did come back with us, White Hands would have your head.”
If it’s possible for Lamin to go any paler, he does, that unnerving white skin glistening in the bright sunlight. “There is that.”
“Indeed,” I say, continuing on. “Lead the way.”
* * *
To my surprise, Lamin skirts the shoreline entirely once we reach the beach. I thought Queen Ayo would be waiting somewhere in open water, but Lamin leads us instead toward what looks to be a small temple on a grassy hill. It’s a quiet, understated affair, a red stone building surrounded by an arbor of sweet-swelling fruit trees that overlooks the glistening blue ocean. Once we round the top of the hill, he leads us down a path through the center of the arbor to the entrance to the temple, which lies just beyond a small stream. We have to walk over a tiny curved stone bridge to get to the door. It’s more of a footpath, really, but Britta and I both slow the moment we approach it, our footsteps hesitant and uncomfortable.
That bridge looks familiar. Too familiar.
Suddenly, I’m back in Abeya, standing in front of the water bridge into the city of the goddesses, the one that refused to form for my companions and me when we went to confront them.
Britta notices my hesitance and smiles ruefully. “Memories, am I right?”
“Unfortunately so,” I say, shuddering. I reach out my hand. “Together?”
Smiling, Britta swiftly takes it. “Together.”
