Cyrene paid Hollick the astronomical sum that was required to fix the Crusader and managed not to wince. Her belt felt incredibly light now. Hopefully, they had enough to make it to Kinkadia and find lodging in the city. She didn’t relish the thought of sleeping in the woods anytime soon.

The bell rang overhead, and Cyrene turned around to find Ahlvie coming into the room. He tilted his head outside. She thanked Hollick and his wife and then followed Ahlvie out.

“Did you find a someone?” she asked. He and Orden had gone out as soon as the market opened to try to locate a guide to take them to Kinkadia.

He nodded and then said, “Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“We found a guide, Marcotte, who is going through the Noirwood Forest, but he’s already agreed to help another group.”

“Can he take us both?”

“He said that the other group paid for a solo trip. Orden is trying to track down the other group and see if they’d be amenable to going with us.”

“What if they’re not?”

Ahlvie raised his eyebrow. “We make them amenable.”

“Of course,” she said on a sigh.

“Wait until you see this guy,” Ahlvie said with round eyes. “He’s a burly fellow. He’s like the size of a tree trunk with a huge beard and a bow the same height as him strapped to his back.”

Cyrene laughed and ruffled Ahlvie’s hair. “My little Indres is scared of the big huntsman?”

“Hey now!” he said, shaking her off. “A man has to keep his pride.”

“What pride?”

He elbowed her in the side. “That was a nice thing that you did for Gwynora, by the way.”

Cyrene shrugged. “Least I could do. We did bully her into taking us.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t exactly pleasant the last couple of months. I wouldn’t have begrudged you for leaving her out to dry.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Even though your pouch is a little light now?” he asked, jostling the money bag at her side.

“Maybe I’ll just borrow some of yours.” She swiped at his money pouch, and he growled at her.

She laughed. “You never should have taught me sleight of hand.”

“I shouldn’t teach you anything. All it does is make my money disappear.”

“Speaking of,” she said, guiding him back through the elaborate market.

“Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“I can’t stop thinking about this dagger that I saw this morning,” she admitted.

“Is it pretty? I know how you like pretty things,” he teased.

“Prick.”

He howled with laughter but let her drag him back to that table, now half-full of all the baubles that had caught her eye earlier. He hadn’t been lying about the dagger not staying for long. The beautiful ruby hilt was already missing. She frowned and sighed. She didn’t know why she couldn’t get this thing out of her head. Maybe it should make her nervous, but she trusted her instincts. Right now, something itched inside of her, saying she needed that dagger.

“It’s gone,” she grumbled.

“Oh, thank the Creator. My purse is safe.” He tried to grab for it, but she slid it out of his hands. “Definitely regretting spending four months on a boat where I got bored easily.”

Cyrene walked into the shop until she found the salesman speaking to a man about a sword in his hand. He glanced once at Cyrene, and his smile grew.

“Excuse me,” he said to the man and then promptly strode to Cyrene. “Ah, my lady, you are back.”

“I promised I would be.”

He grinned from ear to ear, reached into a closed chest, and produced the small ruby-hilted dagger.

“You saved it for me!” Cyrene exclaimed. Her eyes were caught on the beautiful piece once more.

“It felt right for you. I couldn’t so easily part with it for any other owner,” the man said dramatically and then handed it to her with a flourish.

“Good taste,” Ahlvie said, swiping it away from Cyrene before it reached her. “Aren’t you horrid with daggers?”

“It feels right,” she said. “It has…I don’t know…something to it.”

Ahlvie sharply eyed her. “Do you believe it to be enchanted?”

“It’s not magicked,” the salesman assured them. “The Tendrille metal within is top quality, and the ruby comes from the same mountain. You couldn’t ask for a better blade.”

“I’ll take it,” Cyrene said.

Ahlvie’s eyes widened. “You don’t want to think about it?”

“I already did.”

She paid the salesman, and he threw in a leather holster for it. Ahlvie kept glancing at it as they left the vendor.

“Are you sure about that dagger? In my experience, inanimate objects that make you feel things aren’t usually in our favor.”

He pointed to her pocket where she still held the gold coin that had been given to her in a dream. Whether or not it was from the goddess of destruction, it’d terrified Serafina and the twins enough to make Cyrene not use it. But this felt different.

“It’s just a dagger.”

“But it calls to you. Why?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Maybe it’s the stone. If it makes you feel better, I’ll give it to the twins before I carry it around.”

Ahlvie shrugged nonchalantly, as if none of it mattered to him, but she knew it did.

They returned to the inn after meandering the market and found Arelina hurrying ales out to guests. She waved at them, and they returned the gesture before going upstairs. Cyrene handed off the dagger to the twins, who agreed to investigate. Cyrene already hated being without it. But it didn’t feel malicious to her in the least, and she didn’t know how to explain that to anyone else.

At nightfall, Orden returned to the inn. After scarfing down a huge helping of dinner, they reconvened in an upstairs bedroom.

“Well, how did the meeting go with the other group?” Cyrene asked.

Orden sighed. “They’re a…strange bunch. It’s a small family, only four of them. They seemed shifty, and I’m not entirely certain that they are who they say they are.”

“Oh? Who are they pretending to be?” Vera asked.

“Simple folk from Baybrook, a coastal town a few leagues from here. Except they wear finery and can pay for a private guide.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what to make of them, but they agreed to allow us to come with them.”

“Curious,” Matilde said.

“Very curious,” Vera agreed.

“What does it matter who they are?” Mikel asked. “If they’re allowing us to journey with them to Kinkadia, then they could be the Venatrix tribe for all I care as long as we get there.”

Ahlvie nodded, but Cyrene wasn’t so sure. She had pretended to be someone else any number of times in the last two years. But they didn’t sound very skilled at it. And no one hid their identity for no reason.

“There’s not another option anyway,” Orden said. “Most of the other guides wouldn’t even talk to a foreigner. One actually spat on me.” He upturned his nose in disgust. “Marcotte said we’ll leave in three days’ time. We needed enough supplies per person to make it through the woods. Apparently, hunting and trapping are impossible once we’re within its depths, and we won’t reach an outpost for a week.”

“We can do that,” Mikel said. “I’ll tackle it in the market.”

Orden nodded at him. “Good. Settle everything else, and in three days, we’ll head through Noirwood Forest.”

“Thank you,” Vera said.

He briefly smiled at her before standing and disappearing into the hallway.

Cyrene jumped up and followed him out. “If you’re going to see Gwynora, she’s leaving once the repairs are completed.”

Orden froze in the hallway. “Did she say that?”

“I gave her my blessing. I said that her part was complete.”

“I see.”

Cyrene took a hesitant step forward and looked up at him. “She told me that you thought she was the Heir.”

“I did.”

“I think she’s still healing and that maybe this trip helped. We parted on better terms.”

“I see.” He finally glanced down at her. “I think it’s finally time I relinquished my favor then.”

He disappeared before she could say another word. She hated that Orden had this weight on his shoulders. That any of this had happened with Gwyn at one point. Cyrene hoped they could both figure out a way to get past it.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Lina,” Cyrene said to Arelina three days later. She pulled the woman in for a quick hug.

“It was my pleasure. You should come around again,” Arelina said.

“We will,” she assured her. “We’ll come back and try to help you fix this mess.”

Arelina laughed. “Oh, I do like you, Cyrene. I wish I could come with you and see Kinkadia and the dragons. What a dream that would be.”

“One day.”

“Until then.”

Cyrene waved good-bye to Arelina and Jex and then followed her friends out of The Wood and the Wind. Their bags were packed, supplies were accounted for, and everything was ready to go. Orden had gotten approval to have Avoca on the other family’s wagon. They hadn’t asked any questions as to why their group had an unconscious woman with them. Another indicator to Cyrene. But it helped her, so she promised to say nothing.

Vera came up to stand next to Cyrene as they crossed the market to find Marcotte. She handed over the dagger. Cyrene took it reverently.

“Is it okay?”

“Truly. I found no magic or curse on it. Matilde, Mikel, and I tried every spell that we knew to make it reveal its true origin, and it appears that it is just a simple blade. A fine blade but nothing unusual.”

“Then, why does it sing to me?” she asked.

“Perhaps because the metal and the gemstone come from the holy mountain within Kinkadia in which the Society was first founded,” Vera said intuitively. “It could be that the mountain itself calls to you.”

Cyrene considered that option. She liked it much better that her dagger wasn’t something special, just a blade. Her blade. The first she’d ever purchased on her own and definitely the first that she ever truly felt belonged to her that wasn’t made of flames. She sheathed the beautiful thing against her skin and let the mountain call her home.

Marcotte was waiting for them at the edge of the market campsite. He was exactly as Ahlvie had described—big and burly. He looked the part of a guide through a forbidden forest, dressed in all earth tones with a large growth of beard and that enormous bow strapped to his back.

Cyrene glanced over to the rest of the party. She immediately saw what Orden had seen. A horse-drawn wagon filled with trunks and loaded with additional supplies. There were four of them in total with varying degrees of finery. The eldest son had the nicest clothing, though he seemed the least relaxed in it.

“Good. You’re all here,” Marcotte said. “This journey is a week long through Noirwood. You’re going to want to keep your wits about you until we get to the outpost. Do not eat anything within the woods that you did not already bring with you. I cannot stress this enough. Noirwood is poisonous, and you will die.”

“Cheery,” Ahlvie muttered.

“Follow me, and I’ll guide you through, unscathed. If you have any questions, ask them now because we have a long way to travel and need to get going.”

No one said anything. Likely from the way that Marcotte’s words brokered no comment.

“Great. Let’s go.”

Marcotte strode toward the tree line, and everyone sped forward to catch up. Cyrene fell into place with the rest of her party. The family hurried into position first, careful to avoid any introductions or eye contact. Cyrene moved behind their wagon to keep a close eye on Avoca.

But she couldn’t help one more last look at the beautiful market and the people of Edgewood. She had spent hardly any time in this town at all, but it had left a mark on her heart. She made a promise then to figure out how to help them.

This wasn’t the end.

It was just the beginning.