44

The bear-man towers over us, a fusion of brute and cunning. He blocks our path, flexing claws that could rip us apart. He smells as bad as he looks. Musk and mud. Blood and filthy fur. The insides of a dead man’s boots. His eyes glow like embers.

Behind me, Philia and Veril back away. But I hold in place, my feet solid on the hardened dirt. I meet his gaze with a steadiness I don’t feel—that is, until I remind myself who I am.

The beast grinds his teeth, a sound like crushing boulders. “How is it that the Lady has found her way into my woods?”

“ Your woods?” I ask, livid for many reasons.

His use of the possessive “my.” His upright carriage—how dare he stand tall before me. His tone. Nasty. Disrespectful. Dismissive.

“Tell me your name,” I demand, even though what he is and who he is have already appeared in my mind the same way my own name had.

“You’ve forgotten it?” he sneers, running his large tongue over his sharp yellow canines.

“Tell. Me. Your. Name .” I take a solid step forward, my shoulder blades twitching, my fingers tingling. I want what I want, and that’s for him to—

“I don’t have to obey you, Lady ,” he scoffs. “Without your pretty little pendant, you’ve become just like the old man and the redheaded child: powerless.”

“You are mistaken, Gilgoni,” I spit. “I don’t need—”

It’s too late when I see him strike. His whole paw comes a breath away from my face, but the tip of his nail on his longest finger slashes my cheek. Before I can react, though, something pulls me off my feet, leaving me disoriented, breathless, and shocked as I land on my ass, clutching my bleeding face.

I look up to see Jadon’s back, his legs spread apart, his knees bent. Fight mode.

Gilgoni roars at him, but that roar is cut short by Jadon’s own growl and then his shout. “I will strike you down. I will fucking slice you in two and feed Devour your corpse, and I will fucking set that sea on fire. Get. Back .”

The welt on my cheek burns like acid. I wince and close my eyes. I hear shuffling.

A small growl from the aburan. A huff. More shuffling.

Jadon stands over me, guarding, waiting.

With one final petulant growl, the creature dives back into the brush. The air clears with his departure.

Veril and Philia emerge from their hiding place behind a log.

Jadon lets out a deep breath, sheathes his sword, then crouches before me. “You okay?” He scrutinizes my cheek, turning my chin this way and that.

“It fucking hurts, so no, I’m not okay,” I say, laughing, even as the welts around my face sting from his touch.

Jadon leans closer. “Are you okay?” His eyes are soft but demand a real answer.

I nod. “Yes, thank you.”

“Let’s see what we have…” Veril’s voice makes me break eye contact with Jadon. He’s opening his bag. Vials and bottles clink and clank.

“You were talking to that creature, Kai,” Philia says, awe in her voice. “Did you understand its growls? Have you seen that thing before?”

Jadon holds up his hand. “Phily, let’s give her a moment, okay?”

“And you,” Philia says to Jadon. “You shouted at that thing and all of it just sounded so loud and confusing, and I don’t know what’s going on.”

Jadon takes a deep breath. “Philia—”

“Let’s try…” Veril dribbles brown liquid onto a ball of cotton, then dabs it on my cheek.

Stings. The liquid pops and sizzles against my skin, and I suck in a breath through my clenched teeth. Whatever it is smells salty and metallic.

Jadon takes over holding the cotton to my cheek as Veril returns to his bag. “First.” He plucks out a pearly vial filled with pink tonic. “Then to stop any infection.” He offers the rum.

I drink the pink stuff and follow it with a glug of rum.

Jadon removes the cotton ball and studies me.

My face numbs. My injured cheek prickles. I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath and slowly release it.

Jadon gathers my cape—it came undone in the chaos.

Philia helps me stand. My mouth tastes metallic, like I’ve been licking dirty spoons. “I really need my amulet. Otherworldly like him demand to see authority—”

“What do you mean ‘authority’?” Philia asks, face paling. “Who are you?”

All this time, I’ve been searching to uncover my identity, and now, here I am, with the answer to that question, not willing to say it. If otherworldly plan to attack me more regularly, then I need to share this truth.

I meet Philia’s gaze. “I’ve recently discovered that I’m not a mage from Peria after all.”

“Then…who are you?” she asks.

I glance at Veril, who gives me a slight nod. “I am Kaivara Megidrail, a defender of Vallendor.” Megidrail —I just remembered my last name, and the speaking of it flowed off my tongue like soft water. I purse my lips, still reluctant, but I charge ahead. “You may know me as the Lady of the Verdant Realm.” I pause, then flick my eyes at Jadon. “Believe it or not.”

Jadon says nothing because he’s already told me what he believes.

“You’re…you’re…” Philia’s face stumbles from confusion to disbelief to clarity. “You’re a goddess ?” She squeals, claps her hands. “This makes total sense.”

It does?

“Do I still call you ‘Kai’?” she asks. “Or your ladyship? Or—”

“Just Kai,” I say, remembering that I said the same to Veril nights ago.

“Did you both know this?” Philia asks Veril and Jadon, her face bright.

Jadon offers a curt nod.

“Not the entire time,” Veril says. “I had my suspicions.”

Philia smiles broadly, her spirit so bright, it almost causes me to squint. “Livvy won’t believe this,” she whispers. “We need to get to her before…” Philia’s nostrils flare, and her eyes shine with tears.

Jadon peers in the direction we’re traveling. Finally, he squeezes the bridge of his nose, shakes his head, and exhales. Exhausted, he gathers his sword and says, “Let’s find somewhere safe to camp. I think we could all use food and rest.” He squints at me, his expression pinched and weary. Without another word, he starts up the trail.

I level my shoulders and shuffle beside the Renrian. The look that Jadon gave me… On its face: weariness and confusion. But nothing is that simple with Jadon. Weariness and confusion, yes, but there was something else there. What was it?

“Wait.” I stop walking and stare down at the trail.

Veril turns to me. “Something else?” Then he looks to the dirt. “I don’t see anything.”

I don’t say a word—I won’t be able to talk without crying.

The old man shuffles closer to me, eyes still on the trail. “Remember, Kai. Your vision improved after your confrontation with Tazara. My eyes are that of a two-hundred-year-old Renrian who has traveled without his soft bed and warm—” But then even he sees what I see.

Dead moths.

“Oh dear,” Veril whispers.

I have two options: choose to believe that these dead moths are an omen of what’s to come. Or choose to trust my gut and the certainty that I feel moving in this direction, a certainty that feels like a satiny ribbon that pulses like the stone of my amulet.

This forest around me is dying. There are dead toads over there. There are petrified sparrows over there. The dirt no longer holds the prints of Jadon’s boots. Somewhere in the brush, an angry aburan stalks what’s left of these woods. Death and dying all around—why would moths escape that fate?

That string in my stomach pulls harder.

Even if these dead moths are omens, I will continue to move toward my prize, or else I’ll find myself being crushed in the dirt of this dying realm, pounded to death and forgotten.

We walk in strained silence until we see a break ahead and a glimpse of the sky. “What about there?” I point. “We could stay for the night.”

Following my finger, Jadon nods. “That might work.” He sets off again.

“Just a little while longer,” I say to Veril, who limps beside me, leaning heavily on his staff. I swallow, but my mouth remains dry as I dread what I’m about to say. “I’m thinking—”

“That maybe I should stay in Caburh a little longer,” Veril says. “You’re thinking I should stay there to recover, to enjoy sleeping in a real bed. Then, once you complete your business in Weeton and then Mount Devour…”

“I’ll come pick you up and we return to your cottage,” I say.

He nods, pleased. “I would’ve remained by your side until we reached the very ends of the realm. And I would’ve been the envy of all the others at the next convocation.”

“You’ll still have a story to tell,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “What Renrian can say that a goddess nearly died in their cottage? And not just any goddess. The Lady of the Verdant Realm. You’re already legendary, Veril Bairnell the Sapient. You’ve done so much for me. I can’t wait to return and give you the knees of a fifty-year-old man.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot.”

Just get us there. Let us reach Caburh.

That is my prayer.

And I hope someone is listening.