The wall of the house had split. The crack that ran through the stonework was a foot wide, and a potted plant was wedged into the gap.
Similar damage was prevalent everywhere—when Aytrium struck Ventris, the impact had sent shockwaves rippling across the island for days. The Sisterhood had burned through all the lace they possessed to slow the fall, but it had not been quite enough. Ceyrun now sloped at a new angle, and a huge section of the city’s outer wall had collapsed.
Still, many things continued as usual.
Rhyanon sat on the garden bench with her ankles crossed, eating a pastry and watching her daughter dig small holes in the soil along the side of the house. Jaylen’s hands were covered in dirt, and a tuft of wispy brown hair stuck up from her forehead. Beside her, a line of daffodil bulbs waited to be planted.
“Congratulations?” said Rhyanon. “Although I’m not sure that’s an appropriate response under the circumstances.”
From the other side of the bench, I tipped my glass toward her. “I’ll take it.”
“It was a foregone conclusion, though. A relief to get the weight off your shoulders, I suppose.”
The trial had finally ended this morning, three months after the fall of Aytrium. Judicial Affairs had been overwhelmed, not only because of the staggering number of new cases—mostly the merchant guilds trying to extract compensation from the Order—but because the High Court building itself had been badly damaged during the impact. While my case had taken precedence, the proceedings had still dragged out much longer than originally anticipated.
“Amnesty, huh?” I said. “Doesn’t that set rather a dangerous precedent?”
“I think it would be difficult for anyone to replicate your exact crimes or circumstances. But I’m not a Judicial Affairs officer, what do I know?”
I leaned back on the bench. The sun filtering through the trees warmed my legs.
“I was expecting at least a slap on the wrist,” I said.
“Saskia would never have stood for that. And Deselle Somme advocated pretty fiercely on your behalf too.”
“Even so.”
Rhyanon made an exaggerated gesture of impatience. “If the Order wants to make a big show of being generous and benevolent and forward-thinking, for Eater’s sake, let them.” She jabbed her pastry in my direction. “You’re a free woman. Be happier.”
“I am happy.”
“Then act like it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Maybe if you stopped telling me off.”
Rhyanon was right, though—even now, I felt unsettled. Cyde’s death continued to haunt me; until returning home, I had harboured a faint hope that the Reverend might have made it. I knew it wasn’t really my fault; she had chosen to make that last stand. I just couldn’t quite let go of my guilt.
Jaylen placed a bulb into the soil and buried it.
Lariel’s body, on the other hand, had not been recovered. Maybe Celane had pushed her off the Edge, but I didn’t believe that. A couple of weeks ago, Millie had found a single crossbow bolt driven through the wood of her front door.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” asked Rhyanon. “You’re quiet today.”
“Just caught up inside my own head.”
“Well, if you’re after a distraction, I have a lot of work—”
“No,” I said sternly.
As the administrative chaos of restructuring the Order mounted, Rhyanon had been dropping increasingly obvious hints about me joining her on the new Council. With so few of the original Councilwomen remaining and everyone stripped of their lace, the process had turned into a logistical nightmare. Scheming was already rife amongst the various factions—traditionalist, civilian, and, well, those following Saskia Asan.
“I thought, now that you’ve been cleared…” Rhyanon began.
“You don’t need me.”
She huffed. “Of course I don’t need you. But you would certainly help.”
“Sitting in a room and listening to people yell at each other for eight hours a day is just about the last thing—”
“I know.” She glanced at me. “I’d love to have you around, that’s all.”
Jaylen moved on to the next bulb. Rhyanon’s dog wandered over to her and sniffed at the turned earth.
“Consider it?” she said. “Maybe not yet, but I’ll make sure a seat stays open for you. If you want it.”
“You’re far too kind,” I murmured.
She brushed pastry crumbs off her leg. “Just building up future credit. So?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Oh good, a definitive answer.”
“I will. Really.”
She snorted. “All right, fine; I’ll wait. But what’s your plan now?”
From the street beyond her garden, I heard someone singing. An orange butterfly settled on the spout of Jaylen’s watering can. It unfolded its wings, soaking in the sunlight.
“I’m leaving,” I said slowly. “Not permanently. It’s just … with the trial over, it feels like the right time.”
Rhyanon sighed.
“You’ll miss me terribly?” I asked, amused.
“Of course not.”
“But I’ll miss you.”
“As you should,” she grumbled. “So you’re going to leave me with all the difficult work, and run off to join an expedition. What about your friends?”
“Millie’s coming with me. I tried to win over Osan, but—”
“What?”
“But he said he would stay in Ceyrun for now. Old loyalties die hard, apparently.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And yet, he did not see fit to tell me any of this.”
“He’s good at keeping secrets.”
Rhyanon gestured irritation, but she was struggling not to smile.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“The first of the expedition teams is departing this afternoon. The trial ended just in time.”
“Then this is your goodbye.”
“For a little while.”
She nodded, thoughtful, and we drifted into an easy silence. In the distance, the bells rang out. Some things changed, others stayed the same. The breeze tousled my hair.
“Have you had any more visions?” asked Rhyanon. “Since … since then?”
I shook my head. She knew about my experience in the temple; I had told her most of what had happened. But it remained a difficult subject. I watched Jaylen carefully water her bulbs.
“Does that mean she’s gone?” Rhyanon’s voice dropped. “Even after all that ‘debt of blood’ stuff, she let you go?”
I was silent.
“Elfreda?”
“She’s no longer with me,” I said, relenting. “I don’t know where she’s gone, or if she’ll return. But I think she extracted a small price.”
Rhyanon made a gentle gesture of enquiry.
“I haven’t menstruated since the temple.”
Her face fell.
“It’s not the worst thing that could have happened,” I added hurriedly. “It’s nothing, really, all things considered. Three months ago, I would have considered it a gift.”
“Could you be pregnant?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “I mean, I did consider that too.”
“And?”
“It’s not … impossible. But unlikely.”
Rhyanon wavered, then sidled across the bench and put an arm around my shoulder. The gesture surprised me, and I smiled.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Either way.”
Her dark brown eyes stayed serious. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I leaned into her hug. “Don’t worry so much.”
She went quiet for a moment. Her skin was sun-warmed against mine, and her hair smelled like lavender. I was going to miss her, I realised. I would miss this—the quiet, peaceful afternoons in the shade. As if sensing my thoughts, her grip around my arm tightened.
“When you return, you know you’ll always have a home with us, right?” she whispered.
I looked down, a little embarrassed. “You might want to ask the Commander first.”
She drew back, giving me a small, playful shove.
“Saskia will be fine with it.” Her eyes glinted. “Besides, you’ve seriously misinterpreted who’s in charge in our relationship.”
I blinked, then her words sank in and I burst out laughing. Rhyanon smiled at me fondly.
“Make sure you’re careful out there,” she said. “Come back safe.”
I left via the front gate. The air was cool and fresh; the recent rains had washed away seasons of dust. People moved without urgency, enjoying the sunshine. I walked slowly and tried to soak it all in: the boulevards, the streets that felt both familiar and new, this place that was both home and not. When I returned to Ceyrun again, it would be a different city. I strolled toward the graveyard. For better or worse, I suppose that it already was.
Finn waited at the gate. His hair was growing longer—although it was still not quite the length I preferred—and his skin had lost its terrible whiteness. Over the course of a few slow months, he had begun to transform back into his old self. His spine had straightened, and the extra teeth had fallen out. He was even returning to his original height, just a few inches taller than before.
His eyes, however, remained a stubborn shade of bright green. In twilight hours, the colour came closer to yellow.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I was enjoying my freedom.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. Millie said she’d meet us at the South Gate. Are you ready?”
I was. We walked through the sunlit streets of Ceyrun, and no visions darkened the shadows, no voices murmured in my mind. I was happy. I was just myself.