41

Olivia is being taken to Weeton, which is almost as far a journey to the southwest as Mount Devour is to the north. Caburh is partway between and will add a few days to our journey.

“If I am to survive without my amulet long enough to reach Weeton, I need stronger armor, which means traveling to see your friend in Caburh,” I tell Veril as we leave the protection of the Renrian’s forest.

Jadon starts to speak but stanches it as I spin to face him. “Go on to Weeton without me, then,” I say. “But if you need my sword, then you should do everything possible to keep me strong enough to lift it. Especially since I’m without my amulet. Understand?”

He holds my gaze, unblinking, and then, begrudgingly, he nods.

For now, I wear the most protection I’ve had since waking up nearly naked outside of Maford. Beneath Veril’s borrowed armor, my clothes fit snug against my skin. The power of every elk and owl, spiral and lightning bolt, flows through me. Instant strength and balance—my body can breathe again. But it won’t for long. Sybel told me that. I feel that even though I’m stronger than before. Without my amulet, I’m nothing like I could be.

Jadon walks beside me, gauze covering the markings on his hand again.

Philia walks ahead of us carrying a bag heavy with her own possessions and Olivia’s items I didn’t throw into the fire, including the stolen jeweled book. I’d insisted that Philia be armed as well, and she chose the mace. Chin lifted, she’d told Jadon, “Yes. I’m a hunter, adept with a bow and arrows. While my father also taught me to identify weapons made of steel, my mother taught me how to use them.” She lifted her chin, then added, “My father had many drunken friends. Bows and arrows didn’t work well in close quarters. Knives did.”

I’d bristled hearing that about her father and his friends. She didn’t say it plainly, but I knew immediately what she’d experienced dealing with drunk men in small rooms. Wherever he rots now, Philia’s father should be grateful that he and I weren’t in Maford at the same time. He would’ve become one more hot dish for the giant snake that swallowed Johny the guard.

Knowing more about her family life, a small part of me has softened toward Philia. She’s shown a determination different from the girl I met.

As we walk through the forest, Jadon tries to make small talk with me.

“The emperor has three trained falcons.”

“It’s hot tonight—more than usual for this time of year.”

“I sharpened Little Lava, since she’d dulled from that fight in Azzam Cavern.”

But I’m not interested in anything he says. I remain quiet, unresponsive, indifferent. Not one grunt. Not a single cocked eyebrow.

He finally picks up what I’ve been putting down and slowly…slowly…drifts behind me.

Yes, I’m traveling with Jadon on the same road, but we aren’t on the same journey.

The afternoon with wine and a hot bubble bath. Those kisses on my shoulder. My veneration of his tattoos. That all happened yesterday! Seems like it happened a lifetime ago, and I wonder now: did he really kiss my shoulder? Did I really lick his markings? Or did the comfort of hot water, bubbles, and wine cause me to hallucinate, to conjure that buzz, that pop, that weakness I experienced as his lips touched my skin?

He saw so much of me just yesterday , and as I started that final search for my pendant, I’d planned to show him more. Maybe it was a good thing Philia and Olivia interrupted. How would I feel now if I’d given him everything?

I adjust my satchel strap on my shoulder and sigh. That afternoon wasn’t a total loss. At least I can now picture the markings on my shoulder and over my chest. What they mean, I still don’t know. Why are those markings on my skin? And who inked them? But I now have the answer to the most crucial question. Who am I? The Lady of the Verdant Realm.

That’s why Jamart’s daughter gaped at me. That’s why Jamart prayed when he saw me. The goddess on their altar was standing before them, flesh and bone.

Oh Guardian, gentle Lady of the Verdant Realm, hear the humble plea of Thy devoted servant…

It’s still hard to believe. And no matter how much Sybel tells me that I’m good, the memories of the mistakes I’ve made are all I can hear.

I step over a root rising from the dirt, careful not to fall like I fell after that fight with the burnu. At least I can’t lose my amulet again.

Chesterby—Sybel said that it wasn’t destroyed by an earthshake as Olivia had told me. She claims I destroyed it. Is that the mistake I must atone for now? And what does atonement look like? Will stopping the One be enough? I want to talk out all these questions with Veril, but we’re not alone: Philia and Jadon.

Right now, keeping my distance from Jadon, not only emotionally but physically, has made me feel better. “My stomach has settled,” I whisper to Veril, sneaking a look over to the Renrian. “Do you think that’s because I’m no longer infatuated and have untethered myself from around his finger? Or am I being a petty bitch, which you know I embrace with open arms?”

The old man laughs and whispers, “Goodness, Kai. Maybe the tonics I’ve made you have heightened your senses too much.”

“What are you talking about?” Jadon asks, his jaw tight.

“Sounds like you’re conspiring against us.” Philia laughs, but her eyes don’t.

“If you feel threatened,” I say, “then stop listening and instead prepare for a surprise. Not every word or thing must center around what you can or cannot understand.”

“If there’s something you must know, Miss Philia,” Veril says with a smile, “rest assured that we’ll certainly speak louder.”

Color blooms across the duo’s faces. Jadon’s jaw tightens even more. Their pace quickens until they are several steps ahead of us.

Veril rolls his eyes and pulls his pipe from his sleeve.

We walk in silence, and soon the enchanted forest disappears behind us, devolving into lowlands filled with noxious swamps and twisted, black-trunked trees.

The quiet is punctuated with hands slapping mosquitos, the buzzing of those relentless bloodsuckers, and croaking frogs. Firmer ground finds its way beneath our squelching boots, and I think we’re all pleased to walk upon dry, packed land again. That pleasure is short-lived as we return to softer ground and the stink of decay and rot.

Philia stops in her step and shouts, “There!” She points to the gleaming evening sky.

A falcon circles above. Has to be one of the emperor’s falcons that Jadon mentioned.

The quiet respite skitters away, replaced by a familiar sense of dread. Not good. So not good. This journey does not need to include me being arrested for killing the emperor’s men.

I take in our placement—this path has led us out of the woods, and now we’re traipsing across an open, flat stretch of boggy meadow. We stand out like giants in a town of ants. Steep hillsides to our left. To our right, another forest, this one as thick as clotted milk. And above us, that circling falcon scout.

“We have to take the forest route,” Jadon says.

“That’s Caerno Woods,” Veril says. “The road that the emperor’s battalions use runs right through them. There’s a good chance that soldiers will spot us.”

“We’ll have to take our chances, then,” Jadon says. “There are more places to hide in the woods than out here.”

“You’re probably right.” I take a deep breath, then exhale. I hate agreeing with him.

Without further discussion, we race toward Caerno Woods. I slow some, spotting a raven, large and shiny, solid black, perched on the lowest branch of a twisted tree. The bird’s black eyes fix on mine as it fluffs out its throat hackles. This bird, too, feels like a threat. Or maybe it’s nothing at all. Just a bird in a tree in the wild because ravens and owls and other fowls live in the wild.

The raven croaks once as though it disagrees with my reasoning.

“What?” I ask her, my ears fuzzing.

“Prepare, Lady . I see death. Close.” Her dark eyes remind me of my pendant’s stone.

“How close?” I ask, my head swiveling to keep her in sight. “What do you mean?”

“You already know.”

I stop and turn back to the raven. “What exactly do I know?”

I don’t hear her answer because she takes to the sky.

I rejoin my companions waiting at the edge of the forest. Jadon appears confused or maybe conflicted. His brow furrows as he runs a hand through his hair.

“We should take a moment and think this through,” I say.

The trees of Caerno Woods loom monstrous and tangled. Mist creeps along the ground beneath their trunks, hiding misshapen roots, razor-sharp snares, and holes large enough to swallow four weary travelers.

“We need to plan—”

Another bird cries. This time, though, it’s not the kak-kak-kak of a falcon. This time, it’s the beeping cheer-cheer-cheer of—

“A cardinal,” I say, eyes on the red bird fluttering madly above us.

Another bird marking us for its master. Elyn .

That falcon means the emperor’s men are near—maybe on that road through Caerno Woods. That cardinal suggests that Elyn’s also close—maybe in the plains, the easiest route to travel. And the raven.

Prepare, Lady . I understand her now.

If Jadon enters these woods, he could die. If I don’t enter these woods, I could die.

“What should we do?” I ask Jadon, my heart shuddering.

His mind isn’t as scrambled as I thought, and his clarity ends in the final thought I allow myself to hear. “If I have to fight to keep her safe, I will.”

Even though my anger is still skintight, my heart pushes at my chest, touched by his continued care.

“Are we going ahead?” Philia whispers, face flushed and sweaty.

Both Jadon and I say, “Yes.”

I turn to him and ask, “You ready?”

Jadon swipes at his mouth. “Do I have a choice?”

No, he doesn’t.

Nor do I.