Her eyes went wide. “No.”
“Sadly, yes.” Hendrik chuckled a little, though, thinking about it. “Dagan saw my makeshift shelter and unprotected campfire and took pity on me.”
“What were you going to do?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Now, the memories grew uncomfortable, darker, but he wanted Kajja to know what was out there. “What was there to do? Kass was dead. The priests were liars. The world had ended.”
“Kass wouldn’t have wanted that,” she said quietly.
“I know. I remember all that, now. But I wasn’t myself. Parts of me just…went missing. I can’t explain it any other way.”
“But you survived.”
“Didn’t live, exactly, but yes. Survived.”
“And Dagan was the first person you saw, after that?”
Hendrik nodded.
Her eyes glinted. “Hendrik. You were rescued by a handsome, mysterious man from the dark forest. And you dare to tell me romantic stories are nonsense?”
“It was very, very unromantic,” Hen protested. Then, on second thought, added, “at first. It’s maybe a little bit romantic now. Sometimes.”
“I’m so glad.” She sighed and leaned one elbow on the table. “He’s quick, too, you know. I thought he must be an idiot, he’s so pretty, but he’s much smarter than you.”
Hendrik smiled wryly. “I am aware.”
“I think Kass would’ve liked him.”
“He would’ve loved him,” Hendrik said with a snort. “When we first met, I told Dagan he reminded me of Jak.”
“Really?” Kajja cocked her head slightly. “I mean, I can kind of see it, when he’s with you.”
“The flirting.”
“Is he a flirt?”
“I mean, you’ve met him. Several times now.”
“He has a certain attitude, maybe, but he pulls it off. I’ve only ever seen Dagan flirt with you, though.”
“I’ve seen him flirt with entire settlements,” Hendrik muttered.
A slow smile spread across Kajja’s face. “Are you jealous?”
“Of what?” Hen glanced away.
“Hen, you are! You’re—”
“You’re what?” Dagan plopped inelegantly down on the seat beside him. “What’s he done now?”
“He’s wearing his hair much longer than I’ve ever seen it in my life,” Kajja said. This wasn’t a lie, but it was certainly not what Dagan had been asking.
Hendrik shot Kajja a grateful look. He could forgive her teasing, so long as she didn’t do it in front of Dagan. Not about that, at least.
“Really? You should’ve seen it before we got here; it was ragged. To say nothing of the beard.” Dagan made a clicking noise with his tongue, the way parents in the Heart Wood did while speaking to naughty children.
Innan slid in beside Kajja, then, their book tucked beneath their arm. “Dagan refuses to let anyone cut his hair.”
“I can do it myself,” he protested. “Anyhow, I keep it nice; he looked like he was wearing a bird’s nest.”
Hendrik chuckled. “And I’d been wearing the same clothes for moons. I mean, I washed them but…no soap and lots of salt and sand.” He made a face. “And one of my sleeves had burned off, so I tore the other one to match. I used to tie it to a tree so I could find my way back to my camp.”
“You were an absolute wild man.” Kajja shook her head. “I knew you were so much more interesting than that perfect soldier persona you sold us. Thanks for proving me right.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hendrik said. “Don’t tell me if it wasn’t. I don’t want to know.”
*
Once again, Hendrik couldn’t shake an itchy, uncomfortable feeling inside his skin right before a full moon. That was when the Children of the Blood who were next in line would inherit, so their names could be sung at the full moon ceremony. He knew it was all in his mind, but this moon, with the Council in session for almost two days straight and no word on the debate filtering out, was worse. He was determined to stay calm, cool, and rational, as he had not when Jessica had first revealed her plan to them.
And why had she told them that, anyhow? What was she playing at, telling a bunch of relative kids with no power to support or advance her plans?
The morning of the full moon, Dagan woke early to meet Innan and Kajja in the winery hall. They’d removed the books so the scholars could keep working while the Council debated whatever in all the fiery hells was keeping them sequestered so long. Hendrik tried to stay in bed, but his mind spun and his skin itched with something between anticipation and dread. They hadn’t been in the settlement a week, and yet it felt like an eternity.
Admittedly, only the days seemed to move slowly. The nights flew by, once he and Dagan were alone in the little house. Perhaps that also contributed to his impatience with the days.
When he arrived at the hall for breakfast, Piret met him. “What were you doing all morning?” she asked. “Dagan’s been here for ages.”
