THE CAPTAIN OF Grey’s ship was not at all happy when I boarded.
“She’s a criminal,” he growled at my back as I ignored him, crossing the deck and standing next to the black lacquered railing.
“I’m the representative of the Emperor on this mission,” Grey stated.
“Don’t care,” the captain snapped back. He tugged at his beard. “She should be hanging from a noose, not standing on my ship.”
I swallowed.
Grey said something else, something I couldn’t hear. I could feel the tension building behind me, but I ignored it all, staring up at the quarantine hospital. Doubt twisted my stomach. Would my revenants be able to protect themselves if more intruders came? I scanned the hospital’s brick facade, my eyes tracing over the shadowy outlines of my revenants in the windows.
It’s not too late for them, I told myself. This was the best possible time for me to go, before they met the same fate as Ernesta. They might be losing some of their memories now, but they could still fight to protect their home. If I waited much longer, it would never be safe for me to leave.
Soon, the ship pushed off from the dock and we were making the short journey north, to the city of Hart. I counted the seconds, measuring the exact moment when I knew my revenants would no longer be able to swim to the ship to protect me. “What did you do to convince him to let me come aboard?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Grey said.
I reached out and grabbed his wrist. “I am worried,” I said. “What’s to stop him from dumping me in the bay?”
“A hundred allyras,” Grey said, flushing. He hated talking about money.
I released his arm. Of course. Why did I always forget how easily things could be fixed with money?
While the captain and crew ignored us, I turned my eyes to the north. I hadn’t been to Hart since I rode the ferry with my sister to the hospital, the day they left her locked inside and dragged me, shouting, away from her. The last moment I saw her alive.
“So, do you have any advice for me?” Grey asked.
“Advice?” I could still hear the screams—my screams—as I tried to fight my way back to Nessie.
“The north needs to improve its economic standing,” Grey said. “If the north could export a product to the mainland, then it might offer more financial security. Right now, the primary source of income is fishing and farms, but all the goods the north produces are sent to Northface Harbor.”
“There’s no reason to export turnips to the mainland,” I pointed out. The mainland was rich in its own right, and besides, any produce sent from our villages across the sea would be bruised and aged by the time it reached Miraband’s shores.
“So, any ideas on what else we could send to the mainland to generate income for the north?”
“No,” I said simply. Didn’t he think that the north would have saved itself already if the answer were that easy? Most people in the north only had the means to labor at their farms. There was no time nor spare money to create art or invent something new or develop unique merchandise. The north was too busy surviving, and barely at that.
Despite the warmth of the day, I adjusted the cloak on my shoulders. The long hood in the back would serve to hide my white hair. My amputated arm wouldn’t stand out as unusual in the north, but my hair would.
“Worried you’ll be recognized?” Grey asked, concern in his voice.
“Should I be?” I hadn’t been north since leaving my parents’ burned home. While my army of the undead had marched through the streets of Northface Harbor, did the people of Hart know what had transpired? Did they care? “They don’t deliver news sheets to my island,” I reminded Grey.
“The official story is that Governor Adelaide was a traitor who’d locked up the Emperor—all true—but I’ve not actually read anything about you,” Grey told me. He looked out over the water as we drew closer to Hart. “The news sheets are pretty vague about how the Emperor escaped, mostly just saying ‘loyalists’ aided him. But everyone knows. Not your face, I don’t think. Your name is whispered, and they know you’re at the quarantine hospital.”
That made sense. People were coming to my little island before I attacked the castle; word spread quickly when it came to necromancy.
“At least, that’s how it is in Northface Harbor. If your story has crossed the bay . . .” He shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he wasn’t sure.
He opened his mouth to speak, and I knew him well enough to know that he was going to tell me that this was why I needed to go into hiding now, before the truth of my necromancy spread. Fortunately, Grey knew me well enough not to bother saying it again.
Instead, Grey gave my arm a comforting squeeze—or he tried to, anyway. He’d forgotten that my left arm was missing, and his fingers grazed the wool of my cloak. He stuttered an apology, flustered, but I ignored him. He would have to get used to the ways I had changed since we first met.
The wind whipped around us as the boat picked up speed over the bay. He looked out over the water, and I wanted to ask him what he thought of it all. Did he remember those first days we went to the quarantine hospital with Master Ostrum and our fellow students? Did he think of some other time, sailing with his parents, perhaps, or with friends like Tomus?
Did he wish he was with them instead of me?
“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I’d never come to Yūgen?” I asked, my words almost lost in the wind.
Grey’s face was somber. For a long time, he didn’t answer. He just stared at me.
I wondered what he saw.
“I cannot imagine a life without you,” he said finally. “I know I had one, before we met, but it feels . . . like a memory my brain tries to suppress. These past few days . . . I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
“Because you didn’t want me,” I said quickly.
“I don’t want your revenants,” Grey said, emphatic. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”
I turned my head away, signaling the end of the conversation, but Grey didn’t relent.
“This isn’t sustainable,” he said. He was so close now that his words melted directly into my ear. “You cannot live forever in a clock tower surrounded by corpses.”
The wind bit at my eyes, making them water. I touched my crucible, sensing both the power inside it and the souls it linked me to.
“My mother was the practical one,” I said. I didn’t look at Grey, but I could tell that he was surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, even more so because I so rarely spoke about home to him. “She tried to ground Nessie and me.” I laughed. “Nessie walked with her head in the clouds, always, and Mama would be the one reminding us that we had to work to make all those dreams come true.”
I heaved a sigh. We were almost to Hart now—I could see the busy dock, even though it was too far to hear.
“Papa, he was the one who believed,” I continued. “He believed in us. Believed we could do anything.”
I turned to Grey now. He studied my face, trying to understand me.
I could go on. I could tell Grey my hope to restore Nessie’s soul, my belief that I could do it, if I just had the right knowledge and resources.
But I didn’t want to see the doubt in his eyes.