few dek to reach a spot that I felt gave me enough privacy. All the way, I knew what this decision had amounted to: however and whenever the Tree responded, this was going to take long enough that we would spend the night here. But I was at peace with that.
I wanted Sarah to feel in control of her fate. To feel a part of our little group instead of our prisoner or our liability. If this was what she needed before we left behind the area where she had emerged, then so be it. Really, this was my fault for not soliciting her opinion even before Yvera showed up, since I could have been done by now.
But I wasn’t sure that was the Tree’s intention. I paid closer attention to the feel of the mesa beneath my feet as I walked its length. It was a rather odd geographic feature, if you thought about it. Nothing else like it existed for miles around, not as far as my eyes could see. Its size and severity of height would have been much more common in a desert or prairie, not in the middle of one of the largest jungles in the Six Realms. Now that I was looking with all my senses, there was something…odd about it. Something that felt…different.
I had been working with the Tree long enough to get a feel for Her will in matters before I even asked for it. This unique mesa was, after all, a short flight from where the Trees had arranged for Sarah to appear. Strange that They would have sent her to one of the more difficult and perilous parts of the Six Realms…unless there was something They had intended for us to learn while we were here.
Perhaps Sarah’s instincts—even so raw and unconscious as they were—were more attuned than mine were in this case.
I was unsurprised when I heard and then saw Yvera taking off; Kor and Yvera would have come to the same conclusion about where we would inevitably spend the night, and Yvera would have gone to work off her impatience with me by finding something to hunt. We had plenty of food, but fresh, hot meals were always preferable, and the more we could scavenge for ourselves, the longer our supplies lasted.
Not long after, I judged I was far enough. Kor and Sarah were small figures in the distance, and I wanted to keep them in view and be close enough to get to them quickly (when transformed, of course) should they need me.
So, I stopped, turned back to face them, and kneeled on the ground where I was. The kneeling part wasn’t necessary, since most of the time I spoke to the Tree face to face, standing up. But from a distance like this, it helped me become still and centered as I drifted inside myself to that place where I could hear Her.
I didn’t close my eyes—again, I wanted to be alert for anything that would require me to rush to Kor and Sarah, especially with Yvera gone, but my gaze became a little unfocused. I focused on my breath and let the day’s tension go. Not trying to control the flow or direction of my thoughts—just letting myself be. Feeling the last rays of the sun on my face. The cool fingers of wind as they flowed across the mesa and thus around me, stirring my hair around my cheek. (My thoughts were distracted for a moment as I sighed about how long it was getting. Maybe I should ask Kor to cut it again. When we had time.…) Hearing the cry of an eagle high above. Smelling the crispness of the high air mixed with the dusty grime of the mesa.
And something…else.…
A few dek into this effort, when my heart rate had slowed and my mind was still, my blood grew warm, and my chest burned as it always did when the Tree’s presence rose within me.
Speak, Koriben, son of Kavarian, Heir of my chosen King. I am listening.
The whisper of the Tree’s voice to my inner ear nearly startled me out of my stillness. This wasn’t the longest She had ever made me wait, which was a relief. Besides, my knees were complaining about the hardness of the stone beneath me.
I thank you, my Lady, I answered. Kor and Sarah were moving around, but their motions didn’t look urgent, so I tried to not be distracted. I have come before you with a question on behalf of the Earthren you sent me to find. She wishes to know if there is anything more to be gained from lingering in this place that she was sent to.
She was wise to ask, the Tree whispered back. You, too, have discerned something as well.
Yes, my Lady. There is something about this…place.… I couldn’t articulate what it was yet, even to myself, much less to Her.
There is indeed something I wish you to learn here. The night will be perilous, but if you guard and heed My Sister’s chosen, you will learn it, and you will all see the rise of the sun.
Well. That was…not quite the kind of news I was hoping for. But I swiftly controlled my thoughts into a more mannerly tone. Thank you, my Lady. We will heed your counsel.
See that you do, My son, the Tree said, and I could have sworn I heard a note of amusement in Her voice.
It was gone when She spoke next. Remember: Guard her well. And heed her. If you fail to do so, you will lose her this night, and you will not be entrusted with another of My Sister’s children.
I understand, my Lady, I said. My hands gripped my knees at just the thought. I will not lose her. That I swear to you.
See you to it, She whispered. I felt Her presence withdraw from the sudden chill in my blood and heaviness in my chest.
I groaned, bending over as my head spun and limbs trembled. Channeling the Tree of Flame’s power was invigorating in the moment but always draining when She left, like the worst kind of adrenaline crash. Mortal beings weren’t designed to contain an Eternal One of the First Creation. The Monarch and Heir, having the greatest portions of Her flame in their hearts to begin with, could manage without permanent harm, but only for short periods of time.
It was far better for our health to seek Her out in person when possible and only resort to this long-distance communication when there was no other practical way. Avva, having served as Her King for so many decades by now—nearly a century—was much more used to the strain than I was, but it was still wearying for even him. Me, on the other hand—I felt as if I’d taken a tumble in the washing bin, been wrung out, and been hung to dry in the heat vents.
Speaking of heat vents, though…that sounded rather nice. I sighed. If only. With sunset so close and such a perilous night ahead, I’d better get a fire going if Kor hadn’t already (I’d have been shocked if he had) and something warm inside me. Preferably tsha. Lots of tsha.…
With those thoughts and my stinging knees to motivate me, I pushed myself up and onto my feet. I wasn’t quite staggering as I started back, but I wasn’t far from it. Fortunately, my step steadied, and my dizziness lessened the closer I got. After all, I didn’t want to worry Sarah, or make her regret.…
One moment, the wind was at my back. The next, when I was only about a hundred feet away, the wind shifted, blowing toward me from them.
Just like that, I was sprinting, fire blazing in my heart and ready to transform me any second. I was confused that Kor’s and Sarah’s positions were so calm. Kor was stretched out, sunbathing shirtless on a makeshift inclined couch of cushions, and Sarah was sitting on her own cushion with her back to him, watching me approach. Couldn’t they smell that whiff of krathen on the wind? Perhaps not Sarah, but surely Kor.
Sarah stood as soon as she saw me run. She came forward, hands up. “It’s OK!” she shouted. “The smell is just coming from my stuff!”
I slowed my pace, but I was still at a steady jog by the time I drew up to her. “What do you mean? What stuff?”
She pointed to a small, shredded bag made of some kind of strange leather and presumably what had been its contents, which were scattered around it in no pattern I could discern.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
Sarah bit her lip. “It came with me, yesterday. I was wearing it when I fell. Except it somehow got separated from me before or during the transition through the gate, so I didn’t even think.… Not that I had much time to look for anything. The ahglen found me almost as soon as I came to. Kor and Yvera found it when they were looking for where I emerged.”
“But why does it all smell like krathen?”
Kor opened his eyes with a sigh, as if resigning himself to being disturbed. “Because whoever—or whatever—went through Sarah’s things didn’t want us smelling whatever they were.”
I spoke slowly, part of an excruciating effort to remain calm. “Whatever…was going…through Sarah’s things? Why?”
“As far as I can guess?” Kor said with a grunt as he sat up and turned to me. “To get under your skin.”
Sarah blinked at Kor as if this were news to her. There was something odd about the way her eyes darted away from him again, though, cheeks going ever so slightly pink. “But I thought—”
Kor looked at her. “Yes, scaring you was a nice side benefit. But they’re aware that you’re not a threat to them yet. The one they’re focused on right now is Ben.”
He turned back to me. “That’s not the worst part, though. We have good reason to suspect they have an image of her now. She had one in her belongings, and now it’s gone. It’s the only thing we know for sure is gone.”
I felt a chill that went to my bones. “What? Are you sure? Could it have fallen out, or.…”
Sarah was grabbing a small leather object from the ground and bringing it to me. She opened it and showed me the inside.
“See, there?” she said, pointing to a slot that had some strange clear substance on the front. “That’s where I would have kept it. It wouldn’t have just fallen out on its own, especially not with my wallet closed, like this.”
She closed the leather folds, and I heard the snaps click together.
“Nothing else from inside here is missing, either,” she said. “I think they must have taken it.”
I swallowed. “This likeness of you.… How good was it?”
She hesitated, as if uncertain how to explain. “It was…small. And not in color—just black and white. But it was painfully accurate.”
She scowled, as if that were a bad thing separate from the fact that her exact likeness was now in the hands of some of the more intelligent and deadly of the consumed.
I put my head in my hands, using all my willpower to remain calm. “Anything else I should know?” I growled into my palms.
The silence that followed was ominous. I lowered my hands and glared at Kor. “What is it?”
“This is just speculation,” he said, rubbing his neck. “We don’t have as much evidence to back it up. But she had a hat with her when she fell. Yvera and I didn’t see it. That could mean it fell off her early on and drifted away, not going through the gate at all.…”
“Or that they have it, and with it, all they need of her scent,” I finished.
Perfect. Just grand. Simply…
…horrifying.
I began pacing, too panicked to think, let alone stay still.
Perilous was the word the Tree had used to describe tonight. Well, if I’d known all of this when we first spotted this mesa—no, when Kor had offered to bring me here—I would have ignored him and dammed myself to a few days of bedridden agony rather than risk Sarah out in the open like this. I would have flown her straight to Kergin Hold, bite be torched; sent for the rest of my elites; ridden out the pain while waiting for them to show up; ordered a hunt to sweep ahead of us; and then—only then—would I have ventured to carry her out of the hold to the nearest gate.
They were hunting for her. They knew—torch it—somehow, they knew what she was, and they were hunting for her. Already. They had all they needed to send countless hordes of them after her. Already. And now we were stranded in the middle of the Athalin Jungle for the entire night, and all she had for protection were two wings-in-training and a fledgling Heir.
I had known it would get to this point eventually, of course. As soon as word broke out who Sarah was, it would have spread like wildfire, and that fire would have reached the ears of the more intelligent consumed. But torch it, I’d thought I would have time. At least a few days! Enough time to get her somewhere safe—ideally, to get her all the way back to Earth and beyond their reach. And yet, from perhaps the very first day.…
The Tree’s warning echoed ominously in my mind, with far more force than it had before, when I’d naively believed that tonight would be just like any other night in the open.
Remember: Guard her well. And heed her. If you fail to do so, you will lose her this night.
I could…lose her. Tonight. I was at a real and terrible risk of losing her tonight.
I couldn’t lose her. Not her! Not now! Not when I had just found her. Not when she was my one chance.…
“Ben?” Sarah said uneasily, catching my arm to bring me to a halt. I turned reflexively to look at her but was caught when I met her wide brown eyes.
My throat choked. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I forgot all other concerns and fears as I just looked at her. At Sarah.
All I could think was, I can’t lose her.
Not because of what she represented to me, but because she was her. I barely knew her, but what I did know of her was crushing me like a vise. I knew she was good, to the core. Kind. Selfless. Patient—too patient, especially with me and my fumbled explanations and hundreds of mistakes in taking care of her. Lost, so new to this world of nightmares. Vulnerable. Just at the beginning of her potential. And so trusting. She looked up at me as if all she needed was to hear me say it would be alright, and she would believe me.
Failing to protect someone like that.…
Even if the Tree let me try again, I didn’t think I would be able to. Not after failing someone like her.
I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of her pleading brown ones for one moment. I took a deep, deep breath. Then I let it out.
I was all she had. Torch it, but I was all she had.
I had to be enough.
When my eyes opened, I knew they had the illusion of control. I smiled thinly at her. “Sorry. I was just…thinking. But it’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
I left it at that, knowing that if I kept talking, I would start to babble, and she would see right through me. As it was, her expressive eyes stared up at me, studying me with minute scrutiny. I let her. She would see worry, but that was only natural—rational. The complete and utter panic I felt at the thought of failing her was buried too deep for her to find. I was busy burying it too deep for me to consciously feel, because if I let myself enter that spiral again, I would be rendered useless to her. It would boil there, deep in the bedrock of my soul, like a birthing volcano, but for now, it would be deep enough for me to do whatever I had to do to make sure she survived the night.
Guard her well. And heed her.
She nodded slowly, as if satisfied with what she saw, and she gave a weak smile of her own as she let me go. For how little warmth she gave off, my skin was surprisingly cold after her hand was gone.
“I’m sorry for being so…silly as to make us stay here,” she said sheepishly. “This is all my fault.”
Her fault.…
I nearly lost it again but took another deep, hasty breath to keep calm. “No, it’s not your fault. Don’t even apologize. You are right, after all.”
“What do you mean?” she asked with a start.
“The Tree says there’s something special about this place—this mesa in particular. She wants us to learn what it is, and apparently, that means spending the night.”
I sent some carefully worded thoughts Her way—the tone of which bordered on irreverence—about how, if this was Her will, She had better give us a miracle.
Kor snorted, as if echoing my thoughts. Although I was sure his weren’t so carefully worded, nor merely bordering on irreverence.
“Really?” Sarah said, looking like she was trying hard not to be incredulous. “Like what?”
“If I could tell you, then we wouldn’t have to spend the night to find out,” I said as a weak joke. “That’s the Tree for you. Never letting you know what you’re supposed to figure out for yourself.”
Even if it nearly kills you.
I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t the Tree who had stranded us here. That was me and my cascade of failures. If anything, the Tree had given us the one clue that would help save us from them.
If only I could figure out what that was. Heed her? Sarah, obviously, but.… How?
I began rearranging the cushions to make enough space in the middle of them for a fire. I needed to get busy, that was the key. Prepare, prepare, prepare, so that my mind was too occupied to panic. But keep my ears peeled for any advice Sarah may have, because it could just save our hides. Yes, that was it. Get busy…and listen to Sarah.
Sarah caught on to what I was doing and dragged her own cushion away. Kor settled back onto his pile with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes again. I rolled my own eyes, but that was Kor for you. And because we would rely heavily on him shortly, I was going to let him soak up his rays while he could.
That was, until I settled down on my cushion to set up the fire, and I noticed Sarah uneasily sitting down on her own—once again, turned away from Kor. I was about to demand if he’d been rude to her when I caught her eyes darting to his discarded robe and shirt, her cheeks going pink.
I snorted. “Kor, for Flame’s sake, put your shirt back on. You’re making Sarah uncomfortable.”
His eyes cracked open to look at me in annoyance. “Ben,” he whined. “I need to get as much sun as I can.”
“Then go sunbathe elsewhere,” I said, unmoved. “There’s plenty of mesa, but we were here first, so I’m setting up camp here. So put your shirt back on or find someplace else to be half naked.”
Kor scowled. “I did ask first. Sarah said it was fine.”
“It is,” she said quickly. Too quickly.
I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Is he making you uncomfortable?”
Her cheeks flushed. “If he’s right, and he needs—”
“I am looking for a yes or a no,” I interrupted gently.
Caught, she admitted with burning cheeks, “Yes.”
“Kor,” I said, looking back at my leftwing.
“Fine!” he huffed as he got up. He stowed his cushions, grabbed his shirt and robe, and strode off, muscles rigid in irritation.
While he was still in earshot, I pulled out my other brazier—a larger one, fit for roasting whatever Yvera would bring back—and got busy filling it with charcoal, but as soon as he was far enough away, I looked back at Sarah with a sigh.
“Sarah, you have got to be more assertive about your needs. As you can see, I won’t always be around to advocate for you.”
“I handled myself just fine before you came into my life, thanks,” she said hotly.
“I’m sure you did,” I said, hoping my tone sounded reasonable as I continued to add coals. “I’m sure that things are different where you’re from. But here, when we need something, we say it. If someone does something we don’t like, we let them know. If you don’t do the same with Kor and Yvera, they’re going to walk all over you. Yvera will take whatever you say at face value. Kor will know better, but he’ll push his luck as far as you’ll let him.”
Especially when he’s like…this, I thought but didn’t say out loud. Not even I knew what this was. Kor was acting pushy, even for him, in ways I couldn’t make the pattern out for yet.
“But he had a point,” Sarah protested. Her voice was less irritated now, though, so it seemed I’d mollified her. “He’s going to be spending a lot of energy to protect us all. It seems rude to kick him out like that.”
“It was rude for him to make you that uncomfortable,” I pointed out. “It’s nice that you’re thinking of others’ needs, or of our needs as a whole, but your needs are part of the collective good. You don’t need to ignore them just because someone else is making theirs manifest more loudly. It’s almost never just one person’s good or another person’s good. It’s about finding the solution that gives most people most of what they need. In this case, Kor can get the same benefit—somewhere else. After just a bit of effort on his part, everyone wins.”
The flush in her cheeks was dying, and her eyes were turning more sheepish than irritated. “I suppose…that makes sense. It’s…hard for me to do, though. I’m not used to.…”
“I’m not saying it’s as easy as I make it sound,” I said with a rueful smile. “It was a hard lesson for me, too. My.… Well, I’m half Peacegrowth, and they tend to be the most self-sacrificing of us all.”
My voice lowered as I set aside the bag of charcoal and lit the ones in the brazier with a twitch of my fingers. “For better or for worse.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her looking at me, so I continued brusquely. “It was an instinct I had to be trained out of early on when I started taking on responsibilities as Heir. If I’d have let everyone else’s needs dictate everything I did, I would have been chained to a meeting table or running around solving problems until I was worn ragged, and I would have shriveled to a useless state. By putting everyone else first and neglecting myself, I was preventing myself from being able to serve them in the way they deserved. When I balance their needs with my own, everyone benefits the most.”
“That’s very…wise of you,” she said.
It was my turn to feel my cheeks grow hot. “Oh, not me. I had a good teacher, that’s all.”
“Your father?” she asked tentatively, as if not sure she could bring him up.
“Yes, him,” I said, casting her a warm smile to show it was alright. “I’d have done that shriveling I mentioned within a couple weeks if it hadn’t been for him. He took me in hand right away, and from then on, he’s always been careful to warn me if I lose my balance.”
“It sounds like he is a good father,” she said quietly.
My smile died. “The very best.”
I busied myself setting up the spit for Yvera, hoping Sarah wouldn’t notice the return of my soberness.
No such luck.
“You must miss him,” she murmured.
“I do,” I said as naturally as I could manage. “But I’ve taken breaks to go back and visit him.”
Short ones. It was always too painful to see the changes in him in person, all the starker for me because of my absences. And the longer I stayed, the more ministers and counselors tried to pin me down to put an end to my “irresponsible wanderings.” In their minds, I should be focused on learning to take over. If only I could explain to them the fault in their strategy: that I was doing the far more responsible task in the long run. But that would require revealing things the Tree had forbidden Avva and me to reveal. So, I avoided them as best I could, and Avva tried to ignore their complaints about his errant Heir.
“And I speak to him whenever I can,” I went on. Then grimaced. “Speaking of which, I should call him as soon as Yvera gets back to stay with you. Now that we’ve decided…on where to spend the night, he’s going to want to know.”
He would not be pleased, even if I only revealed a fraction of the danger.
“You can call him?” Sarah asked in surprise.
I looked at her, blinking. “Sure. It’s not that hard. Simple enough magic—we learned it in secondary.”
“What’s it like?” she asked, eyes bright with interest.
It was like a light had turned on inside her, illuminating her from the inside out, bringing life and vivacity where before there had been withdrawn strain. The difference was so startling and captivating that I didn’t realize I was staring until her light brown cheeks started turning darker.
“What?” she asked self-consciously, the light inside shuttering.
I looked away and refocused on filling my kettle with water. “Nothing—I’m just…surprised it’s that interesting. But I’m happy to show you. Sometime.”
Sometime when it’s safer. Sometime when I can spare the energy. Sometime when I’m not calling Avva.
Those were two beings that I did not want to meet too soon. Kor was right—Avva would adore her, and I had a good enough feel for Sarah now to suspect she would be drawn to his gentle strength like a moth to a flame.
Yet I abruptly felt the exact opposite desire: the strongest and strangest impulse to bring the two of them together. To just sit back and watch them meet, interact, and become close. The image brought a warmth to my flameheart that was as troubling as it was pleasurable. I dismissed the thought as being cruel as I hung my kettle over the fire; I would never do that to Avva. Sarah and Avva would inevitably meet, yes, but if I brought her to him like that, he would get the wrong idea and start hoping I’d changed my mind.
Which I hadn’t—wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Argh, could I avoid any of the heavy thoughts this evening? I had to get my head on straight, and fast, before night fell.
“I’d like that,” Sarah said shyly, and it took me a harried moment to remember what we had been discussing.
“Then I will,” I said with a quick smile in her direction before getting to my feet. “Just as soon as it’s safe enough for a demonstration. Who knows? By then, I might be teaching you how to do it yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
I froze in the middle of brushing off my pants when I heard the startled note in her voice. I thought through our conversations today at the speed of lightning, and I realized the krathen had interrupted us at perhaps one of the worst possible points. I’d spoken to her for what must have been nearly a deken, and yet she still knew so little. Nothing, in fact, of what I needed her to decide, and to do. To become.
I said a few choice curses in the silence of my own head and then let out a breath. I looked down at her feet, not able to even meet her eyes. “Ah, Sarah, I’m…sorry. Again.”
“It’s OK,” she said with a weak chuckle. “You haven’t had the time to explain yet, and I know now still isn’t ideal. Don’t worry about me right now. My questions can wait. You just focus on keeping us safe for tonight.”
I was startled into meeting her eyes, unable to believe the understanding in her voice. It was in her gaze as well, looking at me as if I were the one who deserved compassion.
“That doesn’t mean.…” I began helplessly. Then groaned, running a hand through my hair. “I should have had time by now. I should have made time. But I…don’t right now. And that’s just not fair to you, in so many ways. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, Ben,” she said soothingly, standing to come up to me. Even though she had to crane her neck to meet my eyes, she didn’t look the least bit reluctant to do so. “I’m serious. One thing at a time, right? The most important thing right now is protecting us. Everything else can wait.”
I looked down at her in distress for a moment, and then I folded my arms with a sigh. “You’re too good. You know that? You should be shouting at me right about now.”
“Would that make you feel better?” she asked with a quirk of her pink lips.
“Maybe,” I muttered.
“I think you get enough of that from Yvera,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye this time.
“Speaking of whom,” I said, looking up as I heard a telltale flap on the wind.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sarah take a hasty step back, as if only just aware of how close she had been to me. A part of me was disappointed, a part was relieved, and a part was troubled. I ignored all such parts for now as I watched Yvera come in.
As Sarah had said: one thing at a time.