45

At last, we reach the clearing, a stretch of wilderness with naked trees, brambles, and tufts of burr-filled wild grass not tall enough to hide a wildflower. There’s a velvet black sky with early-evening stars. There’s a wedge of a creek that, according to Veril’s map, will eventually become the Duskmoor River. At the edge of the meadow is a sheer rise with an overhang.

I point toward it. “Think that’s enough protection for now?”

“Should be,” Jadon says.

Philia says, “I agree.”

Veril just nods, flagging from his sore knees.

The outcrop is tall enough for us to stand beneath and long enough for us to sleep while still remaining hidden from sight, protected from overnight mist and early-morning dew, and more than that, prowling creatures, otherworldly or not. There is a cavern behind the overhang, yawning deep into the earth, but nothing stirs as we approach.

It doesn’t take long for Philia to start a fire. Jadon slices ham from his pack and uses twigs as skewers. Once she’s finished with the fire, Philia stands before me, wide-eyed, wringing her hands, her cheeks pink, her green eyes bright.

“Yes, Philia?” I ask.

She curtsies and dips her head. “You should pick a spot before I do, Lady.”

I shrug off my cloak. “Philia—”

“My mother,” she says, clasping her hands to her chest, “when she was a girl, she prayed to you. You kept her family fed and wealthy.”

Philia’s attention fills me with heat, and it stimulates my core with a strange power I’ve not felt before. I dip my head as thanks. “I appreciate your kind words, Philia. I’m glad that I helped your kin thrive.”

“Mother said that all was well…” Her excitement sinks into sorrow. “Until she married my father. He told her that you were a false god.”

I place my hand atop Philia’s wild curls. “You’re a brave young woman. Once all of this is over? You’ll enjoy a long life with wealth that comes from ingenuity and strength, and an ever-burning hearth, and the prettiest girl in Vallendor holding your hand.”

She jams her lips together, trying not to cry.

I point to her bedroll and satchels. “You got this?”

She nods and goes back to arranging our sleeping area.

I turn back to my bags to see Jadon watching me, his eyes soft and unreadable.

“Yes?” I ask him, the heat in my cheeks rising.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, pushing back whatever emotion had dared to peek out from behind the door. “Let’s get Veril settled.”

Together, Jadon and I help the Renrian toddle over to a soft patch of grass. Jadon’s fingers brush mine as we brace Veril from both sides. His touch feels like small bolts of lightning striking my hand, and as we set Veril down, that zap dies before its energy zigzags to my knees.

Despite our squabbles and declarations, my body still reacts to him. Despite everything, his touch still slows the bedlam fighting its way into my heart.

Once we finish with Veril, I wobble to the creek, queasy, tired, and hungry, my cheek still smarting from the aburan’s swipe. I have brought a bar of lemon-mint soap and the bottle of lavender oil that Veril gave me before my proper bath in his giant tub. I quickly undress.

The water is cold but clean and clear, so clear it may not even exist. Just pebbles and little fish that appear to dart through air. I wet my hair, appreciating the cold water pinching my scalp. After quickly washing my hair, I drag my fingers through my curls to divide my locks to make two braids. I sway as my fingers work, and I lean against a boulder to keep myself upright. I must be more exhausted than I thought.

After dressing, I join my companions and sit as close to the warmth as possible, storing the heat and the memory of fire for those coming days we may be without either.

Veril has prepared a small pot of lentils and leeks and has set it atop the fire.

Jadon skewers more ham chunks and places them over the flames. His hair is damp, clearly from his own creek-bath, and his cowlicks swirl like whipped cream across his scalp. He and I lock eyes across the fire.

“Thank you, Jadon,” I say. “For your help back there with the aburan. You didn’t have to do that. You could’ve let me become…Kai nuggets.”

With a soft smile, he peers into the flames. “I hear they taste like chicken.”

“I go best with a lighter wine,” I add.

Philia snickers. “But you can’t eat too many. Causes gout.”

I pick at the fat around my slice of ham. “ Gout? I’d like to think I’m more like…chronic heartburn. That’s sexier than gout. ”

My companions laugh. Jadon stretches out his legs, more relaxed than before.

Maybe Jadon was right about us not going further in our… whatever we are . Because after we rescue Olivia, he has to take her and Philia back to Pethorp—that is, if Gileon Wake hasn’t burned it down—and I’ll head to Mount Devour, and who knows what I’ll face there. Jadon and I will have to separate, which will already be hard. A stronger connection would be distracting, and distractions kill focus. A lack of focus would allow anything and anyone to sneak up on me and end me right where I stood. I stare at the flames licking the bottom of Veril’s pot and sigh. Yes, emotional distance will help protect us with our soon-to-be and inevitable physical distance.

I take big bites of my ham sandwich, closing my eyes to savor this meal. The meat tastes sweet and salty, and the warm fat soaks into the hard bread. Two glugs of wine make my cheeks buzz, and long sips of water clear my mind. My muscles ache, but soon food and wine and a lavender tonic from Veril dull that pain.

“We leave at dawn,” Jadon says, finishing his meal.

I leave the fire to go lie on the only other patch of grass. My eyes go heavy even as they track a star burning across the sky.

Behind me, Philia tucks our plates away as Veril covers the leftover lentils in the pot. The old man shuffles over to his bedroll and says, “See you at dawn.”

Philia climbs into her bedroll and falls asleep before she can say, “Good night.”

“May I?” Jadon asks, gesturing to the area next to me.

“Sure.” The queasiness returns—I’m nervous and filled with dread because not only could this result in a… distraction , it could also end in another disagreement, and I’m too tired to fight, and I’m too tired to even want to hear his thoughts.

Jadon reclines on the grassy patch beside me. Like me, he’s wine-wasted and ham-heavy.

Together, we watch the sky in silence.

“I didn’t set out to keep you in the dark,” I say. “I tried to tell you all I’d learned. But—”

“But I fucked it up.” He chuckles.

“You fucked it up, yes.” I pull at the clover around me.

“So, what did you learn in the woods?” he asks.

I tell him everything, from Sybel revealing my mother’s name and her role in the realms to the possibility that we may all die if I don’t do my job: stopping the One and saving Vallendor. “And Sybel told me who I am to the mortals of Maford.”

“And Sybel’s the Lady of Dawn and Dusk,” Jadon says. “I know of her.”

“You do?”

He nods. “And she was the woman you saw in the cave?”

“Yes. She tested me, I think, when she appeared in Azzam Cavern—and because I spared the battawhale, I unlocked all this knowledge about my identity. And now that I’m wearing my original outfit, I’m remembering more things.”

He faces the sky again. “So that’s why you returned upset from the forest. She told you where to find your pendant.”

“Not where ,” I clarify. “ How . And I realized the signs were there all along—and they all pointed to Olivia.”

He whispers, “But now that you have your clothes, do you still need to stop in Caburh?”

I turn to him, placing my head on my elbow. “I’m more powerful with my clothes but not as powerful as I should be—as I could be if I had my amulet. Stopping at Caburh for armor will provide me one more layer of protection until I can find it.” A cloud obscures the nightstar for a moment, and it’s as if the sky has closed her eyes. “Veril isn’t doing well, and I’d rather he be where he is safe and can heal.”

Jadon watches the sky as the clouds drift clear of the nightstar. “He means a lot to you.”

“Yes.” I pluck a wildflower from the ground. “More than I imagined.”

His head tilts toward me, but not enough to meet my eyes.

Sadness weighs down my head, and I lie back with my face to the dark sky.

“I’m glad you met him,” Jadon says. “I’m glad you found someone you could trust.”

“How do you know about the Lady of Dawn and Dusk?” I ask.

He smiles. “Take a guess.”

I say, “Old Myrtle. So, did she truly exist or…?”

“She existed, and she did live in a hut outside of town. I was told to stay away from her, which, of course, only made me want to meet her.” He pushes out a breath. “We’ll find your amulet, Kai. And once we have Veril in a safe place, we’ll be able to focus. Travel without having to stop too many times. You’ll get to Mount Devour even if I have to swim across its sea carrying you on my back. I’ll probably collapse and die, but then, with your pendant, you can bring me back to life. Please bring me back.”

I smile. “I’ll bring you back as something cool, like a cow or a—”

“A cow ?” he says, incredulous.

“What?” I say, grinning. “I like cows.”

“How about a mountain lion or an eagle? I’d even take a badger over a cow.”

I tilt my head in his direction. “If you continue fucking up, then you’ll become a turkey.”

He tilts his head in my direction. “Guess I won’t be fucking up again.”

We smile at each other before looking back at the sky.

The fire crackles behind us. Veril is snoring. Philia, too. Jadon and I should be sleeping, but I don’t want to leave this spot. I don’t want to abandon this peace.

“I know your prayer,” Jadon says. “Oh, gentle Lady, Guardian of the Verdant Realm. Hear the humble plea of Thy devoted servant seeking the grace of Your divine touch.”

When he doesn’t go any further, I say, “There’s more.”

“Divine touch,” he says, smiling some. “I like that.”

“There’s ‘divine favor’ in there, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” He rests his head on his hand.

“Are you planning to finish the prayer?” I ask, eyebrow cocked.

“Mmm… no .” He squints into the sky. “I want to linger a bit at my favorite part, since the gentle Lady is beside me now and I’m just a reach away.”

“Is this a request for my divine touch?” I ask. “Does this mean you now believe in me?”

Jadon closes his eyes, but his smile remains. “I’m not allowed to believe in you.”

I turn onto my belly and hold my chin in my hand.

“Remember?” he says. “You told me to be the nightstar? ‘It slows the realm and allows life to flourish. Be the nightstar.’” And now, his eyes stay fixed on that nightstar.

My heart pounds in my chest. “You still remember what I told you?”

“Even after days of fighting and burnu and searching and dark, dank caves…” He nods. “I think about it at the start of a new day, and I think about it before I close my eyes to sleep.”

A hot flush sweeps from my chin to my scalp as I watch him a moment more. Like I’m trying to memorize his face. Once I’m satisfied, I lie back to peer at the sky again.

So tranquil here, right now. There’s room for my thoughts to become beautiful lace—a silken web strong enough to hold all my contemplations for at least a day before the winds rip it apart. I turn my head to Jadon and study his face.

Is he experiencing the same smeary peace? Here we are, under a sky thick with worlds, a sky as wide as all the seas. Spears of wispy clouds drift from the hills, and wildflowers across the field sway in the breeze.

I use one finger to pluck flowers from the earth without touching anything, and with just a thought, I arrange those flowers into a circle and make them twirl slowly in midair. The nightstar douses the petals in soft, pearly light.

Jadon whispers, “What a trick.”

Smiling, I watch the flowers spin and twist.

“I meant it when I said I’d swim the Sea of Devour,” he says.

“And I appreciate your willingness to help me,” I say, “but you need to take the girls back to Pethorp.”

Jadon grimaces. “But that means, then…you’ll be alone.”

I shrug. “And I’ll be able to handle it.”

“Goddess or not,” he says, eyebrows crumpling, alarm now in his tone, “you shouldn’t travel by yourself. For protection but also companionship. That’s a long distance to be alone.” His thoughts are scrambling. “So stubborn. Don’t let her win. Say it again. Tell her again.”

I lightly swipe a wildflower back and forth beneath my nose. “Who’s gonna join me, then? You can’t. You’ll have to take care of Olivia once we reach Weeton.”

He watches the twirling wildflowers. “Unless… What if we go to Weeton as planned? And instead of the girls and me heading to Pethorp, we travel with you to Mount Devour?”

I rub my chin against my knuckles, thinking. “While I’m eager to have your company, it’s dangerous. Not for you. Maybe not even for Philia. Olivia, though? She isn’t cut out for crossing a sea that’s more acid than water. And by then, I’ll have my amulet. That, combined with my clothes… I should be all right. I’m a goddess , or did you forget?” I let the flowers suspended in midair flutter to the grass around us.

He twists his lips, not convinced. “Mmm.”

“Look at this.” I shift so he can see some of the symbols embroidered on my vest. “See these markings?” I lean closer to him and whisper, “Shh. They’re magic. They’ll protect me.”

He squints at my vest and then my pants. “Really? I don’t know about that.”

I fake-gasp. “You doubt the talents of the immortal tailors who crafted this very garment?”

“Mmhmm.” He jams his lips together to keep from laughing.

“Eagles and circles.” I tap the collar of my vest and trace the barely there embroidery. “Means perfection and spirit.”

He says, “Hmm. And these?” He traces the elk on my hip.

My skin warms at his touch. “Power. Nobility. Passion.”

“Passion,” he says. “And this?” He traces the snowflake-shaped symbol on my ass. “There are a lot of these.” He taps one, then another and another, and my body turns molten like the ore in his forge.

“More protection,” I say, my back arching more and more with each touch.

His face blooms with fascination. “Protection?” He lifts his eyebrows. “From?”

I say nothing—speaking requires breathing, and I don’t want to lose this heady sensation… Drunk and dizzy, warm and breathless, achy and disoriented. This feeling would be sickness if I wasn’t feeling so… alive .

Jadon slides his fingers from my ass to my thigh, to my hip, up my side, my neck, and shoulders until he reaches my cheek, the one injured by the otherworldly.

I’m growing faint, and now I release that breath. “How does my cut look?”

“Like it’s healing.” He meets my eyes. “But you remain flawless.” He traces my bottom lip with a finger, and his touch makes my skin tingle and pop.

“I thought we weren’t doing this,” I say, my mouth parting just a bit to trap his finger.

He shakes his head. “I don’t remember saying that.” He leans in closer.

“No?” I say, and then his lips are on mine.

My mind explodes, and my lips part under his. Our tongues tangle and dance as his hand explores my ass. I trail my fingers down…down…to find him hard. So hard. And as he deepens the kiss, I can’t help but hear his mind scramble— “ I’ll hurt you, I want you, I can’t, I have to, what if I hurt you” —even as our kisses grow firm and more confident, even as my hand encircles him and his breath quickens… “I’ll hurt you I can’t stop I can’t lose you I can’t lose you fuck — ”

A loud crack of thunder.

What the…?