13

Upside Down

Reven isn’t in the tree when I wake up. In fact, I don’t see him anywhere. Moving quickly, I untie myself and drop to the ground. Then I hiss with a new frustration. My beaded dress is gone. I was going to use that to barter for supplies after I escaped. I hate this man.

“Let’s go.”

I jump back, startled at the sound of his voice. Where the hells did he come from?

Before I can snap at him, shadows rise up, almost like he’s going to drag me along again, but then they sort of flicker before they disappear. Expression blank, Reven reaches a hand for me instead.

I slip out of the way just before he catches my arm. “I won’t run.”

He casts me a doubtful glance.

“Where would I go?” I point out.

I can see him chewing on that. Does he believe me?

After a second, he drops his hand, and as he does, I spot the scars running down his wrist. They’re not like any I’ve seen before. Shiny, almost silvery, they remind me of mercury, solid and yet shining. A series of three jagged, parallel lines that look like claw marks.

I don’t ask. He wouldn’t answer me anyway, I’m sure. Besides, the last thing I need is to think of him as anything more than a monster. For all I know, those are the last remaining marks of a victim.

My distrust will keep me sharp, safe.

Reven takes the lead, allowing me to follow. Which I do, though maybe I dawdle. Again, I have no reason to make this easy on him. After getting a branch slapped back in my face for the second time, though, followed by a gruff, “Keep up,” I grit my teeth and move faster.

After that, we fall into what amounts to a lot of silent walking, and a lot of trees, and more walking, broken up only by eating a few more pieces of that fruit…as we’re walking. It’s the unending kind of marching that reminds me of journeying with Cain’s zariphate the one or two times I was allowed to travel deeper into the desert with them. I’m trying not to think about how worried he must be right now, and at the same time trying to channel him.

A memory strikes, like flint to tinder, of when I’d run from a lion and dropped my knife in terror. Be smarter, Meren. Stop letting fear and exhaustion cloud your actions. Is that what he’d tell me now?

Without warning, we emerge from the tree line.

“Watch it.” Reven reaches a hand across me despite the fact that we’re still at least twenty feet from the edge of a sheer drop. His palm presses into my stomach.

Touch.

One I don’t see coming. And yet, my gut reaction is to gasp and almost to…lean into him.

The hells with that. I must be even more agitated than I realized.

He withdraws his hand.

Deliberately, I turn my gaze away from him only to really take in the drop off we’re standing near.

“Goddess above,” I breathe and stare out over endless skies and the incredible sight laid out before me. One I’d never thought I’d witness in person.

For ages now, we have watched from our solid place in Aryd as the dominion of Wildernyss has broken its bonds of land and crept slowly higher into the sky. The exposed and jagged rocks beneath it always remind me of upside-down mountains, the tops—or bottoms, I guess—of their peaks dipping into the oceans below. The southern parts of Aryd are cast in shade for many hours a day now because of this dominion. A blessing for those who live there.

Below, through wispy clouds, I can see the ocean, the blue expanse of it seemingly endless, though I know Tropikis is out that direction somewhere. Far enough from here that it isn’t visible on the horizon.

That’s when it sinks in just how high up we are.

He didn’t need to bother with the protective gesture. Self-preservation and the whole falling-to-my-death scenario have me scrambling back into the trees. I’m tempted to wrap my arms around the trunk of one, but I manage to stop myself. That would be too telling.

Focus, Meren. The most important thing is I have my bearings now. I know where in Wildernyss I am.

Once again, Goddess bless Omma and those hours she forced me to spend memorizing the maps of the dominions. I’ve never thanked that woman for anything, but I’m starting to appreciate her more. She prepared me more than I realized.

Only one set of mountains ends this close to the border of Wildernyss: the Devotion Mountains. We are on the eastern side of the dominion, right at the edge. The question is, how far south are we?

Have we passed the River Tropikis? I could follow it to the Lake of Tymber, which sits at the center of the dominion. From there, I could make my way to the capitol city with its temple and the portal housed inside. Then home.

Well planned or not, as soon as I get a chance, I’m gone. Now at least I know what fruit to eat, what path to take, and to sleep in the trees for safety. I have warm clothes and a small weapon. Forget waiting for shadow boy to get me out of here. I’ve relied on my ability to think my way through challenging situations my whole life. Tabra got all the grace, kindness, and sophistication, so I guess it’s only fair I got the brains.

The journey will take me days, probably, but trying to find that tower Reven brought us through would be more foolish. The Queen’s Tower, I realize now. It had to be. Everyone in the courts knows that Istrella and Trysolde, Queen and King of Wildernyss, have what Omma describes as a “tumultuous” marriage, and the queen made for herself a private retreat. One deep in the mountains that only she knows how to get to. Where had Istrella got her hands on enchanted glass for a portal?

Actually, I have a more important question. Who is Reven, that he knew where to find it?

Regardless, it makes sense that Reven would take me through there. If no one else is aware of the portal’s existence, they would never think to travel that way. And with the queen and king both in Aryd for Tabra’s coronation and Grandmother’s funeral, the tower would be empty.

Reven is smart. I’ll give him that much. I gulp as it dawns on me that I might not be smarter.

The clothes, the escape route, when he snatched me…this was a well-thought-out plan. But how did he know when to strike? It’s not like Grandmother’s death was preplanned or even widely rumored, and he’d been in Enora the night it happened, not Oaesys. Does he realize I’m the same girl he warned not to go into the desert alone?

My brain fills with questions. Regardless of the answers, I’m only a poor girl from Aryd and a part-time pretend princess who can make glass flowers. I have no chance against him.

“When was the last time you saw Devotion’s Edge?” Reven asks with a wave at the drop.

I catch the subtle lilt of suspicion in his voice. Plus, he said words. He doesn’t tend to do that for no reason. I’ve figured that much out about him.

But why suspicion?

I barely ask myself the question before I figure out the answer. Tabra has been to Wildernyss many times, including recently. Luckily, I know all the details of those times. Thank the goddesses yet again for Omma, who’d also made me memorize useless junk like Tabra’s itineraries.

Not so useless now.

Instead of answering, though, I flick him a glance. “What do you care?”

“You look like you’ve never seen them before, which can’t possibly be right.” He looks me up and down.

Dammit. I need to be more careful. This situation is worlds different than even Omma prepared me for, and I can’t seem to hold up my Tabra impersonation.

I need a distraction, and fast.

“Aryd is drying up,” I blurt out.

His lips flatten, sinking his cheeks even more beneath his sharp cheekbones, giving him a grim expression I probably should be wary of. But, somewhere along the way, between the perfectly sized clothes and goddess knows how much walking, I stopped being afraid of him. Or at least my fear lessened. Maybe he should have killed me faster, while my terror was still fresh.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“The oases are drying up, so are the wells. And the lakes get lower every season.”

He studies me. Will he consider letting me go, knowing that a brand-new queen will need to deal with such a dangerous situation for her people? And, to borrow an expression from Tyndra, that’s only the tip of the iceberg of Tabra’s problems.

“This must have been happening for some time, so I assume your viziers know,” he finally says. Like that will solve the problem.

Meaning…I’m stuck.

“I’m going to hunt us a midday meal,” he says, still grim, like he’s angry with himself now. Then points. “Follow the edge of the trees that way. Stop when you reach the river. I’ll meet you there.”

The river. The beautiful, glorious river that’s about to be my salvation. Did he seriously think the Princess of Aryd is so uneducated and coddled that she wouldn’t know the layout of the other dominions almost as well as her own?

Deliberately, I school my features, hoping I’m not giving away how eager I am to reach those waters without him in tow. I keep my mouth shut and march away, head held high.

“Don’t go too close to the water when you get there,” he calls after me.

Yeah, I bet you don’t want me to. I raise my hand in a crude gesture and keep going.

It takes me a solid ten minutes of rushing along before I realize my mistake.

He’ll expect me to go the direction he said, and yes, the river that lies in that direction is one path to safety. But I also know of a way from the north that will take me to the smaller, lesser-known Mariana River and the same salvation, just not in the direction Reven thinks.

I spin around and go back to where he left me. Careful to make no noise, or as little as possible on the crunchy bed of pine needles, I move carefully along the line of trees to my left, keeping the sheer stomach-churning drop to my right far enough away that I’m not hyperventilating. I hardly allow myself a breath as I keep moving, unstopped and unhindered, slower than I’d prefer in order to keep quiet.

The farther I get, the more my muscles tense, quivering with each step. I don’t know how long I’ve been going—a while. Long enough to start to hope for success. But then a tingle of what is becoming a familiar sensation—awareness—hits the back of my neck a half second before shadows slam up in front of me like a wall. I skid to a halt.

“I knew you’d be trouble.” That distinctive slide of voice sounds from behind me.

I don’t turn. Hands on my hips, my head drops forward under the weight of my disappointment.

Hells swallow me whole.

At the same time, a tiny part of me relaxes. Escape is my only option, but a small part of me can still begrudgingly admit I feel safer with him than without. Which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever felt. Damn him to the depths of the seventh circle of the hells. “Then save yourself more trouble and let me go.” I address the ground, not ready to face him.

“I can’t.” He almost sounds apologetic.

I’d be a fool to believe it. “Why? What do you want with me? Ransom? Power? Leverage?”

Silence.

“Tell me,” I demand, desperation creeping into my voice now. Because if he’s not going to kill me, then why did he take me? I whirl to face him.

He’s standing close but not too close, his hands shoved into the pockets of his fur-lined coat.

“I need your help.” The words are quiet and so full of resentment I imagine he’s choking on it.

My…help? Is he joking?

I can’t help it. Laughter bursts from me.

And Reven’s immediate scowl only makes it worse.