AFTER MY PRAYERS FOR THE DEAD WERE ALL SPOKEN, I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other, waiting to wake up from the nightmare. Eventually the smoke of the burning trees dissipated into a whisper on the breeze and dawn curled her pale fingertips over the horizon. I continued on for days, gathering what food I could from the forest, but taking very little in the way of rest. Every time I stopped somewhere for more than a few hours of restless sleep, I began to feel as though the ghosts I’d left behind were dragging their icy nails down my back.
All I could think of were the lives lost—babies I’d helped bring into the world now dead before their time, entire families charred to ashes, familiar faces reduced to cinders. In no way could I have ever failed my duties—or Miriel—more than I had by contributing to the destruction of the entire village. Stopping Ina was the only purpose I had left. She was all I had left of home, and I couldn’t let her die trying to kill a monarch who wasn’t to blame. Confessing the truth was all I could do.
Worst of all—even though I’d seen her kill without mercy, I still ached to feel her lips on mine again.
Traffic increased once the mountain road joined the main thoroughfare north just beyond the foothills, but I didn’t dare try to beg a ride. The thought of interacting with strange people filled me with anxiety. I didn’t know how to talk to them, or how long it might take them to figure out I didn’t have a manifest. Would they shun me as they did other mortals without manifests, or might they suspect I was something more? I couldn’t risk it. I envied riders their horses and humans their manifests, and without hesitation would have traded the power of my blood to take the shape of a deer or a common sparrow, anything that would have given me an option other than slogging along the road on foot. I kept the hood of my cloak up, fearful of what people might see when they looked at me. Did they see a witch? A demigod? Or only a girl, weak, hungry, and lost?
After the effort of killing the bandits and taking a new manifest, I assumed Ina would have to stop in the city of Valenko to rest and gather her strength, but not once did I see any sign of her—no white wings overhead, no shed scales or scorch marks anywhere alongside the road. Ina was far too clever to make herself obvious. My heart grew heavier each day that passed. So did the weight of all the death for which I was responsible. Even if I caught up to Ina and confessed the truth to stop her from doing any more damage, it still wouldn’t make amends for the lives already lost.
Every evening I left the road and found a secluded place to say my prayers at sundown: a copse of spindly pine trees that shivered and swayed in the wind; a nook near a waterfall that surged with muddy snowmelt, so loud it drowned my words; an abandoned farmhouse, the remains of the stone structure covered in climbing vines.
I made my offerings to the gods by chanting vespers. With my eyes closed, I made monophonic songs of the most sorrowful melodies given to me by all that surrounded me on those lonely nights—the wind rushing through the trees, the lilt of water over rocks, the distant calls of night birds waking. The music allowed me to sink into my Sight, widening its reach, and I used it to search for any sign of Ina. All I sensed was a soft tug to the north, and when I opened my eyes, it was only ever to the same solitude and grief.
I crossed beneath the stone arch into the city of Valenko at midday almost half a moon after my departure from the mountain, feeling like a wild animal caged for the first time. Guardsmen stood sentry on either side of the road, wearing brown jerkins bound with wide triple-buckled belts of red leather. They had their weapons sheathed and bored expressions on their faces, but passing by them still made my skin crawl. I didn’t like that violence might be required to keep order in this place.
As I wandered deeper into it, the city tore away the last threads of my connection to home. I had never seen so many people crowded so close together. Their skin ranged in tone from milky pale to dark brown and every shade in between. They lived stacked atop one another in stone buildings and shouted to their friends and neighbors across the cobbled streets. None of their business was quiet. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get to where they were going, knocking me out of the way if I didn’t keep up speed. The warring smells of roasting meat, baking bread, and the dirty sludge trickling through the gutter alongside the road assaulted my nose. Every touch and sound felt like flames on my raw nerves.
I had no idea where to begin searching for Ina. I had never dreamed Valenko could be this big. In spite of Miriel’s warnings to stay away from mortals in case they noticed I was something else, I felt more invisible than ever now that I was among them. I ducked down a narrow alley, trying to find a quieter street, only to be buffeted by the churning wings of an entire murder of manifested crows that burst out of nowhere. Every space in the city seemed to belong to someone or something, and territory was not something to be shared. I gave in to the flow of the crowd until the street opened up into a cobbled square. A communal fountain adorned the center, water spouting from the mouths of stone animals all along its length. I swallowed, my throat dry.
I wound my way through the crowd, some human, some animal, and a few mortals traveling stealthily in manifest form. Many of them were hungry, cold, or otherwise suffering, lean from a hard winter. The pressure of their woes made me feel as though I could barely breathe. Amalska had been so peaceful and the people’s lives so easy by comparison—at least until the winter fever. Why wasn’t it like that here? Had the king refused to help these people, too?
My hands shook as I hastily scrubbed off the dirt before cupping them to drink from the horse-shaped spout above me. After slaking my thirst, I traced the symbol of the water god beneath the surface of the fountain, hoping they might share some news of home, but I had traveled too far for the city aqueduct to have a direct connection to the lakes or streams of my mountain. Before I could open myself to the Sight to reach farther, a boy shoved me aside so that his pony could drink.
I fled from the square, nerves jangling even after the crowds grew thinner in the more residential part of town I’d entered. I needed to find somewhere quiet to think. Eager to escape the crush of people, I followed my Sight to a silent oasis amidst the bustle of the town. I stepped through a stone archway into what appeared to be a small park. Wooden buildings towered on three sides, faded shutters tightly closed.
A large tree with barren branches stood at the center of the area. I slumped beneath it and let my heart rate slow, grateful for the silence, then puzzled by it. Polished stone plaques lay on the ground all around me, and it dawned on me that it was not a park, but a place of rest for the dead. Miriel had mentioned that in cities sometimes the deceased were not given to fire, especially war heroes or the wealthy—those whom the crown chose to commemorate or who could pay for the privilege of being remembered. Amalskans scoffed at such ideas and told superstitious stories of the dead rising from their graves to pull bad children under the earth. Perhaps I should have been afraid, but after the chaos of the streets, the graveyard was a welcome haven. These people had been laid to rest in peace, unlike those who haunted me.
I closed my eyes and thought of home, of summer, of Ina. Of all the beauty in my world that I might never know again. The Sight came to me softly, bathing the graveyard in a gentle glow. There wasn’t much to see in this peaceful place, just the barest hint of grass preparing to unfurl from beneath the earth.
Then I sensed a glimmer of familiar magic, like the flickering white of a dragon wing in my peripheral vision. Hope made me rise to my feet. I drew more heavily on the magic of the earth and that which existed inside me, widening the reach of my Sight. She had to be here somewhere. I sent out tendrils of my own power to seek anything that felt familiar or strong. Ina’s magical gift and formidable manifest would make her stand out anywhere.
The magic led me to a narrow building several blocks north of the town square. The lintel bore no mark over the door, and the shutters were tightly latched. Someone inside glowed with energy, far more brightly than those with normal manifests. My pulse quickened. I crept around the side of the building into an alley hardly wider than the distance of my arms outstretched to either side, hoping to find a window with open shutters. I’d only gone a few steps when fists began to slam on the front entrance of the building.
“In the name of the king, open this door!” a commanding voice shouted.
I spooked like a frightened horse. The only place to go was farther into the alley, which dead-ended against a retaining wall. I scurried in and ducked behind a short flight of stone steps that led up to the recessed back entrance to the building.
I had barely settled into my hiding placce when the door above me burst open. Three hooded people sprinted into the alley to flee the building, knives appearing in their hands gracefully as if the weapons had been conjured by magic. I surged to my feet, hoping one of them was Ina, crushed with disappointment when I immediately knew from their gaits that they weren’t. Before the three reached the end of the alley, they transformed into birds and parted ways over the roof.
I gathered my courage. If Ina was still in there, I had to know. No sooner had I taken one step onto the stairs than someone fell backward down them. He hit me hard, slamming us into the cobblestones and knocking the wind out of my lungs. Blood poured from his slashed throat, soaking through my cloak.
As soon as I caught my breath, I screamed.
He was definitely dead.